rise by Laurel Krown

The café felt different after hours on Sunday night. Softer. Warmer. Like it finally exhaled.

It was a little after eight, the sign flipped to CLOSED, the doors locked, and the only light came from the warm overhead lamps that cast a honey glaze across the tables. Laya sat on the counter with her legs dangling, facing Beth as she erased the chalkboard and rewrote the Monday morning special in looping, confident handwriting.

Beth hummed lightly, a tune Laya didn’t recognize but found soothing anyway. It was her favorite part of Sundays, watching Beth finish her closing tasks while the world outside dimmed into quiet.

Laya had never grown up with grandparents. Her mother’s parents passed before she was born, and her dad’s mother had left when he was eight to move across the country and start a new life. Her dad rarely spoke of her. Her mother was raised by her grandfather after her own mother passed, and even before then, they hadn’t been close.

But Beth, Beth felt like the grandmother Laya never had.

A tiny white woman with a blend of red and silver hair, soft-spoken and impossibly wise. She had a way of making every room feel safe just by being in it.

Laya watched her fondly. “You sure you don’t want me to do the board next time? My handwriting isn’t awful.”

Beth chuckled, wiping chalk dust onto a towel. “Sweetheart, your handwriting looks like an earthquake.”

Laya feigned offense. “It is artistic chaos.”

“It’s unreadable chaos,” Beth corrected gently, smiling.

Laya grinned, swinging her legs. “Close enough.”

Sleepy Monk Café always smelled like roasted beans and warm vanilla, but on Sundays, when the ovens were off and Beth brewed one final pot of tea just for herself, the entire place smelled like comfort.

“Are you sure you are alright to drive home this late” Beth asked, concern tightening her voice. “Cannon Beach to Portland is a long drive in the dark, and you have class in the morning.”

Laya nodded. “It’s my favorite time to drive. No traffic, and the sky’s always filled with stars. It feels like… breathing.”

Beth softened. “Good. Just be safe.”

Laya pressed her palms against the cool counter. “Beth… did you always want to run a café? Or did you have another dream before all this?”

Beth paused her chalking. “Living in peace was always my dream. The rest never mattered. A home, family, quiet joy. If I had that, everything else was secondary.”

There was something about the way she said it, steady, grounded, that made Laya’s heart tighten. Beth had survived so much. A traumatic childhood. A marriage built on love and effort. Becoming a widow. Running a business alone. Raising three boys who adored her. Living with generosity that never seemed forced.

Laya admired her more than she could ever properly say.

Beth breathed out slowly. “When Ted was alive, we dreamed this café together. He was the finance manager at a dealership, did I ever tell you that?”

“No,” Laya said, leaning forward, eager. “Tell me.”

“He walked into work one morning, tall as ever, and said, ‘Beth, I’m going to marry you one day.’” Beth laughed softly at the memory. “I told him he was out of his mind. But he was right.”

Laya smiled. “That sounds romantic.”

“It was simple,” Beth said. “Simple is romantic if it’s sincere.”

Beth continued writing as she talked. “Ten years ago we moved to Cannon Beach. Opened this place. Built a life. And when he passed… it was just me. The boys grew up, went to universities, built families of their own.” Her hand stilled for a moment. “They’ve offered to take care of me more times than I can count. But I’m still capable. I want them to live without worrying about me.”

Laya swallowed. “But you’re not a burden.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I know that. And they know that. But I want them free. If the time comes, I’ll go to Jones.” Beth winked. “He’s the youngest. He’ll protest the least.”

Laya laughed softly. “You’re too good.”

“No,” Beth said, turning to wipe her hands. “I’m grateful. There’s a difference.”

Before Laya could reply, a sudden knock rattled the café door.

Laya jolted, heart skipping. “What the—? We’re closed.”

Beth lifted her brows, wiping her hands on her apron. “No one should be here this late.”

Laya hopped off the counter and called out, “We’re closed! Come back tomorrow!”

A muffled voice answered, “Sorry! We just need help jump-starting a car!”

Another voice chimed in, “Please!”

Laya squinted through the glass and blinked.

Recognition flickered.

“Wait,” she whispered, turning to Beth. “I know them.”

Beth nodded toward the door. “Let them in, sweetheart.”

Laya unlocked it cautiously. Jack and Damian stood outside, bundled in hoodies, looking part desperate, part sheepish. They both looked taller than she remembered, probably because she’d only seen them sitting at the diner the morning before.

Jack lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey. Sorry to bother you. We saw the lights on and hoped someone might be here.”

Damian pointed behind him. “My car died. Again. We just need a jump to get back to campus.”

Something flickered across Jack’s expression. Surprise? Realization? Laya couldn’t place it, but she felt both of their eyes studying her, almost like they were trying to solve something.

She stepped back to let them in. “Yeah, that’s fine. I can help.”

They exchanged a quick look, one Laya didn’t understand.

Beth emerged from behind the counter. “You boys need anything warm before you go? I can put together something quick.”

Jack blinked. “Oh—no, you don’t have to—”

But Beth was already busy, packing warm pastries and pouring hot chocolate into to-go cups.

Damian whispered to Jack, “Dude, she’s like Santa.”

Jack elbowed him lightly. “Shut up.”

Laya grabbed her keys from her bag and headed outside to her car to get the jumper cables.

Damian followed her out. “It has personality. Not problems.”

Laya raised a brow. “It doesn’t start.”

Damian shrugged. “Personality.”

Jack laughed under his breath, and for reasons she couldn’t name, his eyes kept drifting back to her. Not in a flirtatious way, not even in a bold way, just… observant. Like he was studying her without meaning to. Laya tried not to read into it and pushed the thought aside.

Outside, the night air was cold and crisp. The Oregon sky stretched wide above them, constellations glittering in every direction. Laya breathed it in, letting the stillness settle her thoughts.

She popped the hood of her car, clipped the cables expertly, and motioned for Damian to start his engine.

It sputtered, coughed, then roared to life.

“Ha!” Damian beamed. “See? Personality.”

Laya smirked. “You’re welcome.”

Jack leaned against the car, arms crossed. “What’s your name, by the way? I don’t think we got it yesterday.”

“Oh.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Laya.”

Jack nodded slowly, still studying her. “I’m Jack. That’s Damian.”

She smiled. “Nice to meet you both… officially.”

Jack opened his mouth, maybe to comment on something, but paused, brow furrowing slightly. His eyes swept over her face as if trying to pinpoint a detail that didn’t quite fit what he expected.

Damian, oblivious to Jack’s thoughts, leaned in suddenly. “You smell good. Like… really good. What do you use? My girlfriend’s obsessed with scents.”

Jack snapped his head toward him. “Bro. Not now.”

“What?” Damian shrugged. “I’m being honest. It’s a compliment.”

Laya blinked, caught between flattered and amused. “Uh… thank you? I think?”

Damian nodded enthusiastically. “She’d want me to ask.”

Jack rubbed his forehead. “Please stop talking.”

Laya laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the cold night.

Beth appeared behind them with two bags of pastries. “Here you go, boys. Something warm for the drive back.”

Both of them stared at her, stunned.

“You didn’t have to—” Jack began.

“Please take them,” Beth insisted gently. “No one should drive hungry.”

They accepted the bags, thanking her repeatedly.

Before they turned to leave, Jack hesitated, glancing back at Laya once more. There was something like curiosity in his eyes, but not the kind that made her uncomfortable. More… puzzled.

As if he genuinely couldn’t figure her out.

“See you around,” he said quietly.

“See you,” Laya replied.

They climbed into Damian’s car. As they pulled away, Laya caught Jack stealing one last look at her in the side mirror.

She watched the taillights disappear before closing the café door behind her.

Beth stood inside with a knowing smile. “Interesting boys.”

Laya exhaled, heart still beating fast. “Yeah. Interesting.”

Beth chuckled softly. “Something tells me your Monday just got more complicated.”

Laya pushed her hair back, feeling electricity buzz through her chest for reasons she didn’t fully understand.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I think so too.”

Damian pulled out of the Sleepy Monk Café parking lot, headlights slicing through the dark coastal road, and for a minute neither of them said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Full. The kind that meant both minds were working.

Damian let out a breath first. “So we really just met her.”

Jack rested his elbow against the window and nodded once. “Yeah. We did.”

“The girl from the diner,” Damian added, still processing.

“The same one,” Jack said.

They both remembered it clearly. Harlan mid-sentence, stopping. Harlan’s gaze locking onto her. Harlan pretending it didn’t happen.

But tonight was different. Tonight they actually interacted with her. She opened the door. She looked them straight in the eyes. She recognized them. And she wasn’t nervous or shy or trying to impress anyone.

Damian shook his head slowly. “Seeing her up close… she’s nothing like I expected.”

Jack’s expression remained thoughtful. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” Damian said. “Someone who looked like she wanted attention? Or someone who knew she was pretty and made it everyone’s problem.”

Jack considered that. “She wasn’t like that at all.”

“No,” Damian said. “Not even close.”

They both replayed the scene in their heads, the way she stood at the door, steady and polite. The way she spoke to Beth with familiarity. The way she recognized them from the diner but didn’t make it weird. The way she moved with purpose, grabbing her keys, walking confidently into the cold night, connecting the jumper cables without hesitation, and then telling Damian to start the car like it was the simplest task in the world.

She didn’t act like someone trying to impress two guys. She acted like someone who already knew who she was.

Jack broke the silence. “She is composed.”

“Yeah,” Damian agreed. “Confident. But not loud.”

“Secure,” Jack added. “Grounded.”

Damian nodded, still thinking. “And smart. You can tell right away.”

Jack made a quiet sound of agreement.

Damian glanced over. “And she didn’t try to flirt. Like, at all.”

Jack’s mouth pulled slightly. “I noticed.”

“No fake giggling,” Damian continued. “No playing with her hair. No questions about Harlan. No… I don’t know. No fishing.”

“She wasn’t performing,” Jack said.

“She was just herself,” Damian replied.

Jack looked out the window, the highway lights reflecting off his eyes. “That is probably what Harlan noticed.”

Damian hummed. “Yeah. That tracks. He hates people who perform.”

Jack thought about it more deeply. “And she has this… calm. A kind of quiet confidence.”

Damian laughed softly. “Funny. Because she talks fast when she gets excited. But she still feels calm. I can’t explain it.”

“She is comfortable in herself,” Jack said. “That is rare.”

They both understood that instantly. Girls often tried too hard around Harlan.
Guys too. Everyone wanted something from him, attention, validation, proximity to the athlete, the captain, the Crestwell name.

But Laya didn’t. She talked to them like they were just people. She didn’t look impressed or intimidated. She didn’t even seem curious in the way others usually were.

She was simply present.

And that, more than anything, made her stand out.

Damian sighed. “Now we know her name before he does.”

Jack’s jaw tightened a little. “Yeah. We do.”

“It feels wrong,” Damian admitted.

“It is not ours to give,” Jack said. “If he wants her name, he should hear it from her.”

“Agreed,” Damian said. “We keep it to ourselves.”

Another stretch of quiet settled in, this one more reflective.

Damian eventually exhaled. “So what do you think it is. What do you think he saw in her that made him freeze at the diner.”

Jack thought for a while before answering. He did not speak lightly. When Jack spoke, he meant every word he chose with precision.

“She is nothing like him,” he began. “She is bright. Expressive. She fills up space without even trying.”

“And he is controlled,” Damian said.

“Yes,” Jack replied. “Structured. Focused. He doesn’t open up easily. He doesn’t let people in.”

“So why her?”

Jack stared ahead, his voice low. “Because she doesn’t demand anything from him. She doesn’t push. She doesn’t try to get his attention. She doesn’t try to win him.”

Damian nodded. “She’s not impressed with him.”

“Exactly,” Jack said. “And that probably makes him pay more attention. She is her own person. Not chasing anyone. Not performing.”

Damian let that sit. “She makes him curious.”

Jack nodded again. “And curiosity is the only thing strong enough to break Harlan’s focus.”

Another silence fell between them, but this one held understanding.

Damian looked over with a small smile. “Man… Harlan really might like her.”

Jack let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “Yeah. He might.”

Damian shook his head with disbelief. “This year just got interesting.”

Jack did not argue. He simply rested his arm against the window and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the truth of it settle.

“She is different,” he said softly. “And Harlan notices different.”

Damian nodded. “So… we keep this to ourselves. Not a word.”

Jack opened his eyes and looked ahead with clarity.

“Not a word,” he said. “To anyone.”

And the car carried them back to campus, both of them aware that something small but significant had shifted that night. Something that involved the girl with the calm voice and steady gaze, and the best friend who had not yet learned her name.