Lucy wasn’t the kind of person who let things fester.
Not usually.

But the slip of paper with Vanessa’s name burned a hole in her apron all day.
Every time Miles smiled at her, every time he brushed her hand without thinking, it echoed in her mind: You don’t really know him yet.

By late afternoon, she knew she couldn’t leave it unsaid any longer.

When Miles showed up after work — sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, casual and achingly handsome — Lucy met him at the door of Nook with a determined set to her jaw.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

His smile faltered slightly at her tone. “Of course.”

She led him to the same corner table they always gravitated toward, the one by the window where the evening sun painted long shadows.

Lucy pulled the business card from her pocket and slid it across the table.
“She came by yesterday.”

Miles picked up the card and frowned. “Vanessa.”

“You know her?” Lucy asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“Yeah,” he said, setting the card down carefully. “We dated. A long time ago.”

Lucy swallowed. “Is she… are you…?”

“No,” Miles said immediately. “We haven’t been anything for over two years. She moved out of state. Last I heard, she was engaged.”

Lucy’s stomach twisted painfully.
“Then why would she show up here?”

Miles sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Because Vanessa likes things she gave up — once she sees someone else valuing them.”

The words hung heavily between them.

Miles reached for her hand across the table, but hesitated, letting it hover.
“I’m not interested in revisiting anything with her. Not now. Not ever. I want you, Lucy.”

Lucy looked down at his hand, open, waiting.
She wanted to believe him — she did — but the past clung stubbornly, whispering doubts.

Miles seemed to sense it because he leaned forward, voice low.
“I know you’ve been hurt. And I know trust doesn’t just appear overnight. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m in this — whatever it becomes — for real.”

Lucy blinked fast against the sting in her eyes.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, voice cracking.
“I know,” Miles said softly. “So am I.”

The vulnerability in his eyes cracked something open in her, something she hadn’t even realized she was locking away.

Very slowly, she reached across and placed her hand in his.

“I don’t want to let fear decide for me anymore,” she whispered.

A smile — small but brilliant — broke across Miles’s face.

“Neither do I,” he said.

And just like that, something shifted — the space between them closing, not with grand declarations, but with simple, steady choice.

They sat there as the sky turned darker, their hands still linked, their fears acknowledged but not surrendered to.

For the first time in a long time, Lucy realized:
Falling didn’t have to mean shattering.
Sometimes, it meant finding the person willing to catch you.