Lola
I rarely come to the diner.
It used to be my favorite place. But I haven’t stepped foot in it in almost six years.
Because it wasn’t just any diner. It was ours.
After every one of Mom’s matches—win or lose—she brought us here. Cassian and I would sit in the same booth, split fries, and talk about how cool it was that our mom was the best player on the court. And later, when we started playing volleyball too, this place became our celebration spot. After a tournament win, after a big game, even after the hardest practices—this was the place we came to laugh and eat and feel like everything in the world was exactly where it was supposed to be.
But after the accident… I couldn’t come back.
It hurt too much.
Still, something in me today said go. And when I stepped through the door, the smell of pancakes and cinnamon hit me like a wave. It felt weird—but familiar. Like visiting an old version of myself.
“Oh my God!” someone called from behind the counter. “Lola! I haven’t seen you in forever!”
I looked up and saw Ashley, her apron tied neatly around her waist, her smile as warm as I remembered. She and her husband had owned the diner for as long as I could remember.
“You’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel as she came around to hug me.
I smiled, hugging her back. “Hi, Ashley!”
“How are you doing? Still into that volleyball thing?”
I nodded. “Yeah… actually, I’m playing Regionals now.”
Her eyes lit up. “No way! Are you graduating this year?”
“Yup. Just a few months left.”
Ashley placed her hand over her heart. “Your parents would be so proud, sweetheart. I hope you know that.”
I felt something tight in my throat but just nodded. “Thank you.”
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“My comfort meal,” I said, trying to smile.
She raised a brow, already halfway to the kitchen. “Scrambled eggs, avocado toast, a side of hash browns, and mango smoothie?”
I laughed softly. “You still remember.”
“You think I could forget?” she winked. “That was your go-to order. Every single time.”
I made my way to a booth near the window and sat down, trying to feel normal. I looked around at the familiar red booths, the old posters, the same jukebox that hadn’t worked in ten years. Everything looked the same.
A few minutes later, Ashley brought my plate and smoothie. It looked perfect. Smelled even better. For a second, it almost felt like home.
I was just about to dig in when I heard the bell over the door ring.
Laughter. Voices. Sneakers squeaking on tile. Then a voice I’d know anywhere.
“Ashley! What’s up?”
I froze.
It was Jace.
Laughing, joking, walking in like he hadn’t shattered my heart two days ago.
And his arm? Draped over some girl. My stomach sank.
His eyes met mine. The smile on his face dropped. But only for a second.
Then, like he was proving something, he pulled the girl closer. She laughed at something he said. The group behind him—his volleyball team—followed close, loud and full of energy.
And all of them? They looked at me.
Not with hate. Not even anger.
But with that sharp kind of judgment. My face must have said everything I was feeling, because when Ashley turned to see what I was looking at, her expression shifted.
Her warm smile dropped into something softer. Sharper. Protective.
“You guys can take the back booth,” she called out toward them, pointing to the far corner. “Plenty of room back there.”
They nodded and moved away without a word.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Ashley rushed back to my table.
“What was that?” she asked, brows furrowed. “You okay?”
I tried to play it cool. I really did. I picked up my fork like nothing happened. “What was what?”
Ashley wasn’t buying it. “Don’t ‘what was what’ me. I saw your face the second he walked in. Is that an ex-boyfriend or something?”
I scoffed under my breath. “No. He isn’t.”
Ashley raised an eyebrow. “Then what is he?”
I looked down at my food. It was still warm. Still perfect. But I suddenly had no appetite.
My eyes flicked to the back of the diner where Jace sat—laughing with his teammates, ignoring my existence like it was easy.
I swallowed hard.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.