Chapter 7

The drive to the boardwalk is quieter than before, but it’s not the heavy, suffocating silence I’m used to. It’s something else—something lighter. The hum of the engine, the occasional sound of Kieran drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, the distant chatter of the city waking up—it all blends together in a way that feels oddly comforting.

I glance at him. “You really have a thing for food, don’t you?”

He grins. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I just think it’s suspicious how you always know the best places to eat.”

He shrugs. “I have my priorities straight. Good food, good company, and keeping you from spiraling into an existential crisis.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Right. Because cinnamon rolls are the cure for everything.”

“You say that now, but just wait.”

The boardwalk is nearly empty when we arrive, the ocean stretching out endlessly in front of us, its waves slow and lazy under the morning sun. A few early risers jog along the path, their breath visible in the cool air. The scent of salt and warm pastries drifts toward us as we step out of the car.

Kieran gestures toward a small wooden kiosk near the railing. “Come on. Best cinnamon rolls in town.”

I follow him, still skeptical but curious. An older man with silver-streaked hair and a flour-dusted apron is already placing a tray of fresh rolls into the glass case when Kieran approaches.

“Well, if it isn’t the city’s most persistent freeloader,” the man says, shaking his head with amusement.

“Freeloader? Excuse me, George, I am your most devoted customer.”

George rolls his eyes but smiles as he grabs two cinnamon rolls from the case and places them on wax paper. “That’s what they all say.” His gaze flickers to me. “And who’s this?”

“She’s someone who has yet to experience the life-changing magic of your cinnamon rolls.”

George chuckles. “In that case, first one’s on the house.”

I blink in surprise, but before I can protest, Kieran nudges one of the rolls into my hands. “See? I take care of you.”

I sigh but take a bite—and immediately regret all my skepticism. The roll is warm, soft, and perfectly sweet, the icing melting into the flaky layers in a way that should be illegal.

Kieran watches me expectantly. “Well?”

I chew slowly, then nod. “Okay. You win this round.”

He pumps a fist in victory before taking a massive bite of his own. “Told you.”

We walk along the boardwalk, the ocean stretching out beside us, the morning air crisp but not unkind. For the first time in a while, I let myself relax. Just a little.

After a few minutes, Kieran glances at me. “So. You gonna tell me who was calling earlier?”

I stiffen slightly, my fingers tightening around the paper holding my cinnamon roll. “You noticed that, huh?”

“I have eyes.”

I sigh. “It’s just… someone I don’t really want to deal with right now.”

He nods, not pushing. “Fair enough.”

Silence stretches between us again, but it’s different this time. More charged. Like there’s something unsaid hovering between us, waiting to be acknowledged.

I stop walking, turning to face the ocean. The waves lap at the shore, steady and constant. “Do you ever feel like you’re just… waiting?”

Kieran steps up beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine. “Waiting for what?”

I exhale. “I don’t know. For something to happen. For things to make sense.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, then says, “Yeah. All the time.”

I glance at him. “Really?”

He tilts his head, considering. “People think I have it all figured out because I act like I do. Truth is, I’m just winging it. Same as everyone else.”

I huff a laugh. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

He smirks. “Maybe not. But it’s honest.”

I look at him then—really look at him. And for the first time, I realize that beneath all the teasing and the easy charm, there’s something else. Something deeper. Something that makes me want to trust him, even when I know I probably shouldn’t.

Before I can overthink it, I say, “Thanks, by the way.”

Kieran raises a brow. “For what?”

I shrug. “For distracting me. For making me eat. For just… being here.”

He studies me for a moment, then nods. “Anytime.”

And somehow, I believe him.

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of easy conversation and stolen laughter, the weight on my chest just a little bit lighter. As we walk back to the car, I steal another glance at Kieran, wondering—just for a moment—if maybe, just maybe, he really isn’t going anywhere.

Maybe, for the first time in a long time, I’m not as alone as I thought.

Just as we reach the car, my phone buzzes again. I hesitate before pulling it out, my stomach knotting when I see the name flashing across the screen.

Kieran notices. “Same person?”

I nod, gripping the phone tighter.

He watches me carefully. “You gonna answer?”

I swallow hard, my thumb hovering over the screen. “I don’t know.”

Kieran doesn’t press. Instead, he unlocks the car and leans against the door. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

His words settle over me, warm and unexpected. And for the first time in a long time, I consider believing them.

The phone continues to vibrate in my hand, each buzz a reminder of the decision I don’t want to make. My thumb hovers over the screen, my heartbeat in my ears.

Kieran doesn’t rush me. He simply watches, waiting, his expression unreadable but his presence steady. I take a deep breath, then exhale slowly before hitting decline. The call goes silent.

For a moment, I expect Kieran to ask more questions, but he doesn’t. He just nods like he understands. Maybe he does. Maybe that’s what makes him different from everyone else.

I shove my phone back into my pocket and climb into the car, settling into the seat as Kieran slides in beside me. He starts the engine, but instead of pulling away immediately, he taps his fingers against the steering wheel, staring out at the horizon where the sky meets the ocean.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks after a beat.

I shake my head. “Not right now.”

He nods again, accepting my answer without protest. “Okay. How about a distraction?”

I glance at him. “What kind of distraction?”

A slow grin spreads across his face, the kind that’s equal parts mischief and challenge. “Something spontaneous.”

I arch a brow. “Spontaneous, huh? That sounds like trouble.”

“Good trouble,” he corrects. “The best kind.”

I hesitate. The weight of whatever’s waiting for me on the other end of that phone call still lingers, but the idea of something—anything—other than that feels like relief.

“Fine,” I say, feigning reluctance. “Where are we going?”

Kieran’s grin widens as he pulls out of the parking lot. “You’ll see.”

The city blurs past us, morning turning into afternoon as we weave through streets I don’t recognize. I should be worried about where he’s taking me, but I’m not. Something about Kieran makes me feel… safe. Like wherever we’re going, it’ll be okay.

Eventually, he pulls onto a quiet, winding road leading uphill. The buildings give way to trees, and soon, we’re surrounded by greenery, the ocean still visible in the distance.

Kieran parks the car at the edge of what looks like a hiking trail.

I blink at him. “We’re going on a hike?”

He smirks. “Not just any hike. Come on.”

I groan but follow him out of the car, adjusting my jacket as a breeze rolls through. The trail is narrow but well-worn, winding through the trees with glimpses of the coastline peeking through the gaps.

As we walk, Kieran keeps the conversation light—telling me about a disastrous attempt at cooking pasta, the time he got lost in his own apartment building, and his theory that pigeons might secretly be running an underground crime syndicate. I laugh more than I have in weeks.

After about twenty minutes, the trees open up, revealing a cliffside overlooking the ocean. The view steals my breath away. The water stretches endlessly, shimmering under the midday sun, waves crashing rhythmically against the rocks below. It’s peaceful, untouched, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist up here.

Kieran watches me take it all in. “Worth it?”

I nod. “Yeah. Definitely.”

We sit on a flat rock near the edge, the wind tousling our hair. For a while, neither of us speaks. It’s a comfortable silence, one that doesn’t demand to be filled.

Then Kieran says, “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but I want you to know that you’re not alone. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat. “I don’t know how to let someone help.”

He exhales, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “Yeah. I get that.”

I glance at him. “Do you?”

He meets my gaze, something unguarded in his eyes. “Yeah. More than you know.”

The wind picks up, carrying the scent of salt and earth. I want to ask what he means, but I don’t. Instead, I let the moment settle between us, something unspoken but understood.

After a while, Kieran nudges me with his shoulder. “Alright, enough brooding. Let’s get food.”

I chuckle. “You just had a cinnamon roll.”

He feigns offense. “And? That was hours ago. I’m a growing boy.”

I roll my eyes but follow him back down the trail, my heart feeling lighter than it has in a long time.

Maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to figure everything out on my own. Maybe having someone beside me—someone who doesn’t push, doesn’t demand, but just stays—is enough.

For now, that’s enough.