Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Linah's quiet afternoon at a café is interrupted when a man in disguise stumbles in, trying to escape his past. A spilled drink and a sharp-eyed fan force an unexpected connection, and Jack finds himself asking for more than just directions.
The bell above the café door jangled, and Linah didn't look up. She was three squares into a crossword she’d already solved twice, tracing the letters with her pencil tip. The Daily Grind was her sanctuary on Tuesday afternoons—quiet, predictable, and filled with the smell of old books and fresh espresso. She liked the way the wooden tables bore the rings of a thousand coffee cups, each one a small story she didn’t have to tell.
The man who walked in was anything but predictable. He moved like someone who didn’t want to be seen, shoulders hunched, a dark cap pulled low over his eyes. Sunglasses, indoors, in October. Linah’s pencil paused. She watched him approach the counter, his hand shaking slightly as he pulled a crumpled bill from his pocket.
“Just a black coffee, please,” he said, his voice low and rough, as if he hadn’t used it in hours.
Maya, the barista, smiled. “You got it. Rough day?”
He didn’t answer. He fumbled with the change, and a quarter slipped from his fingers, rolling across the floor and stopping against Linah’s boot. She picked it up, stood, and walked over. “Here.”
He took it without meeting her eyes. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She didn’t move. “You know, sunglasses indoors make you look more suspicious, not less.”
He flinched. For a second, he seemed to consider bolting. Then he let out a breath and pushed the sunglasses up onto his cap. His eyes were tired, but sharp—the kind of eyes that had seen too many cameras. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who pays attention.” Linah tilted her head. “You’re not from around here. And you’re trying very hard not to be recognized.”
He started to reply, but a sharp voice cut through the café. “Oh my gosh—Jack? Jack Kristen Dean?”
A young woman at a corner table had dropped her phone. Her face lit up with the kind of starstruck glee Linah had only ever seen in movies. The man—Jack—stiffened. His jaw tightened.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice suddenly polished, practiced. “I think you have the wrong—”
“No, no, I’d know you anywhere! You were in Nightfall City! I’ve seen it like five times!” The woman was already out of her chair, walking toward him with her phone raised. “Can I get a selfie? Please?”
Linah saw the panic flash across his face. He wasn’t just uncomfortable—he was cornered. Without thinking, she stepped between them. “Sorry, he’s with me. We’re in the middle of something.”
The woman blinked, her enthusiasm deflating. “Oh. Uh, sorry. My bad.”
Linah gave a small, firm smile. “No problem. Have a good afternoon.” She turned and grabbed Jack’s arm, steering him toward the far corner of the café, past the shelf of donated novels, to a small table tucked behind a pillar. She released him and sat down.
He stood there, staring. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But you looked like you needed an escape.” She picked up her coffee. “Sit down before someone else recognizes you. And take off the cap. It’s not helping.”
He sat, slowly, and pulled off the cap. His hair was dark, disheveled. He looked younger without the disguise, and more tired. “Thanks. Really. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” Linah took a sip. “I’m Linah, by the way.”
“Jack.” He said it like he was testing the name. “Jack Kristen Dean.”
“I know. I recognized you too.”
He blinked. “You did? But you didn’t…”
“Make a scene?” She shrugged. “You’re a person. People don’t need to be performances.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression—a crack in the polished surface. “That’s… not what I’m used to.”
“I can tell.” She set down her cup. “So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this, hiding from the world?”
He laughed, but it was hollow. “It’s a long story.”
“We have time. The coffee’s good.”
He looked at her, really looked, as if trying to decide if she was genuine. Then he leaned forward. “I’m tired of the noise. The pretending. The people who want something from me.” His voice dropped. “I came here because I heard it’s quiet. That nobody bothers you.”
“Mostly true.” Linah glanced toward the front window. “Except for today.”
“Maybe today was different for a reason.” He paused. “Can I sit with you? Just for a while? I promise I won’t be a bother.”
Linah studied him. There was a rawness to his request, a vulnerability that didn’t match the famous face. She considered her usual answer—no, she preferred solitude. But something made her nod. “Only if you tell me the truth about why you’re hiding.”
He hesitated. Then he nodded. “Deal.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but the bell jangled again. A woman in a tailored coat and heels stepped inside, scanning the room. Her eyes landed on Jack, and her smile was sharp. “Jack. There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
Jack’s face went pale. Linah saw his hands tighten on the table.
The woman walked toward them, her heels clicking like a countdown.