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“Would you get some coffee with me sometime?”

Her eyebrows rose. She studied me for a moment, and I found myself waiting for her answer with an unfamiliar amount of interest.

“Coffee?”

“That’s right.”

She chewed her lip, hesitating for a bit. Then she nodded slowly. “Sure, okay. But some other time. As you can see, I’m as busy as a bee today.”

“Some other time.”

A smile touched her lips. For reasons I couldn’t explain, that simple answer made my heartbeat quicken.

I gave her my number. She saved it in her phone, then slipped it into her pocket.

“Goodnight, Ronnie.”

I walked toward the door. Outside, the night air felt colder than it had when I arrived. I looked back through the café window once. Sofia was already back in the kitchen, and I found myself wondering when I would see her again.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sofia

The days after I met Ronnie were really distracting. I kept telling myself it was nothing. We’d spent one evening talking and he’d asked me for coffee. That was all. There was no reason for me to be thinking about him while I was chopping onions or checking a sauce.

Somehow, I kept doing it. I would remember something Ronnie had said, usually something that hadn’t seemed important at the time. Then I would find myself smiling before I realized what I was doing. Damn, it was embarrassing. I had enough things to think about without adding a man to the list.

Work was busy at the café, which should have helped. The dinner rush rarely gave me time to think about anything beyond the next order, yet Ronnie still managed to creep into my thoughts. I remembered how he’d listened to me. That was probably what had gotten to me. Most men listened because they were waiting for their turn to talk. Ronnie actually seemed interested in what I was saying.

There was something calming about that. I didn’t trust people easily, and I had good reasons for that. Growing up without my parents meant learning that people could disappear from your life without warning. The foster system had only reinforced that lesson. I’d learned to keep my expectations low.

Depending on myself was easier than depending on someone who might decide tomorrow that I was no longer their problem. I knew better than to get comfortable with a man I’d known for one evening, especially a man like Ronnie.

He was older than me by enough that I noticed it. He was also clearly successful, although he’d never talked about money. He was tall and handsome, and his confident look and fluffy hair gave me butterflies. And don’t get me started with his pale eyes. The way he looked at me sent shivers down my spine.

I’d noticed the way he watched the room when he first walked into the café. I’d noticed the scars on his hands, too. That should have been enough to make me cautious. Instead, I wanted to see Ronnie again. I hated that, but I couldn’t help it.

One afternoon, I was standing at the counter waiting for a tray to come out of the oven when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out immediately, expecting to see a message from him, but it wasn’t Ronnie. It was a message from one of the podcast listeners. I stared at the screen for longer than necessary before putting the phone away.

“Everything okay?” one of the servers asked.

“Yeah.”

She gave me a look, but didn’t push. I turned back toward the oven and caught myself wondering when Ronnie would call. That annoyed me enough that I decided I was done thinking about him.

For the next twenty minutes, I managed quite well. Then I burned a batch of pastries. I stared at the tray in disbelief. That had never happened before. I threw the ruined pastries away and started again, trying to concentrate on the work in front of me.

It didn’t help much. There was something about Ronnie that had slipped past my defenses, and I couldn’t figure out how he’d managed it so quickly. Maybe it was because Ronnie never pushed. Maybe it was because he hadn’t made me feel like I owed him anything. Maybe I simply liked Ronnie. The thought made me pause.

I didn’t like that conclusion, but pretending otherwise was becoming ridiculous. I liked Ronnie.

I was still staring at my phone when another thought occurred to me, and this one had nothing to do with Ronnie.

The podcast and the burned house. I’d spent years avoiding anything that might force me to remember that night, but since I’d discovered that name I’d had a renewed purpose.

I unlocked my phone and opened the notes where I’d saved the information from the comments beneath the Buried Saints episode.

The old newspaper clippings were still there, along with the names of people who’d mentioned the fire and the few details that had survived online.