Stay Until Sunrise

The Distance Between

The café was nearly empty when Ava walked in that morning. Rain tapped against the windows like it was trying to get inside. The scent of espresso and lemon scones lingered in the air. It was quiet. Too quiet. She almost turned around.

Cole looked up from behind the counter. No smirk. No greeting. Just a tired, unreadable stare. His eyes looked darker today.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure either.”

He nodded and grabbed a mug. “Coffee?”

She shook her head. “Tea.”

There was a pause, like he wasn’t used to her saying no to coffee. But he didn’t question it. He made the tea in silence and handed it to her without looking up.

They didn’t sit in their usual corner. She leaned against the bar. He stayed behind it. The counter between them felt bigger than it used to.

“Rough night?” she asked.

Cole gave a low laugh. “You could say that.”

Ava sipped her tea and watched him. Something was off. The easy rhythm they’d fallen into was gone. She wondered if she’d broken it, or if something else had.

“You’re different today,” she said quietly.

“So are you.”

Their eyes met. The silence stretched.

“I didn’t mean to disappear,” she said.

“I know,” he said. Then after a pause, “I just didn’t know if you were coming back. That’s all.”

Ava set the tea down. Her fingers trembled slightly. She wasn’t used to people waiting on her to return. Most had let her go without a word.

“I’m not great at this,” she admitted.

“Neither am I.”

He looked at her then. Fully. And for a moment, everything that had been unsaid since their first meeting floated in that gaze. Pain. Caution. Want.

The doorbell rang. A customer stepped in, breaking the moment. Cole straightened up. Ava stepped back.

“We’ll talk later?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Later.”

As she walked out into the rain, she didn’t know what hurt more, the cold or the feeling that she was still running from something she didn’t want to name.

Ava stood outside the café for a long minute, letting the rain soak into her jacket. She didn’t move. The street felt empty. It wasn’t just the weather. Something had shifted between her and Cole, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had messed everything up again.

She pulled her hood up and started walking toward the bookstore. Mrs. Langston waved from inside but didn’t call her in. Ava smiled weakly. No words. Just a shared nod. That was enough.

By the time she reached her apartment, her shoes were soaked. She toed them off at the door and sat on the edge of her couch. The tea from the café still warmed her hands. She hadn’t let go of the cup the whole walk home.

The room felt too quiet.

She picked up her phone. A dozen missed calls from her mother. Two texts from Ben. One from Cole.

Let me know when you’re ready to talk.

Ava read it twice. Her fingers hovered over the screen.

She didn’t reply.

Instead, she stood, changed into dry clothes, and pulled out the old notebook she hadn’t touched in months. Her notes from nursing school filled the first half. The second was empty. She flipped to the last used page and began writing. Nothing specific. Just thoughts. Fragments.

How do you trust someone again when you’re still learning to trust yourself?

She closed the book after a few pages and rested her head against the wall. The city outside her window was gray and blurred by the rain.

For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel like running.