Ethan Carter wasn't a man looking for roots. Or quiet. But somehow, The Quiet Page drew him in. Day after day, he returned, always at the same time: late morning, just as the rush died down.
Madison learned his name on his third visit. She was wiping down the counter when he approached.
"Black coffee," he said again, voice steady.
She smiled softly. "You're becoming predictable."
His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "Is that bad?"
"Not here."
She set the cup down in front of him. As he reached for it, she finally asked, "Your name?"
"Ethan."
She nodded, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Savannah."
It wasn't much. But it was a start.
After that, their rhythm grew. Soft exchanges. Shared silences. Sometimes Ethan brought a book with him. Other times, he simply sat in his usual corner, watching the rain trace patterns on the window.
Charleston's streets whispered of old ghosts. Madison knew those whispers well. Her grandmother had told her once that the city never truly let go of its past.
And she sensed Ethan carried ghosts of his own.
One rainy afternoon, with thunder rolling low in the distance, Madison found herself standing at his table after bringing him his usual.
"You always sit here," she observed.
Ethan glanced up from his book. "I like the window."
"Watching for something? Or someone?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze returned to the street. Grey eyes matching the storm outside.
"I grew up here," he said finally. "Left a long time ago."
Madison leaned against the edge of the table, curious despite herself. "And now you're back?"
"For a while. Maybe longer." His voice dropped lower. "Coming back wasn't the plan."
Madison understood that more than she wanted to admit. She'd once thought about leaving Charleston too, but the café her grandmother had kept her rooted.
"Life rarely follows plans," she said quietly.
Ethan's eyes met hers. And for a moment, the storm outside wasn't the only thing crackling with quiet electricity.
The rain kept falling. And for the first time, so did a piece of Madison's carefully built wall.
Later that evening, after Ethan had left, Madison and Willow sat at the back counter sorting through receipts.
Willow glanced toward the door. "Your quiet regular. He's handsome."
Madison said nothing, focusing on the papers in front of her.
"You going to ask him out or just stare at him forever?" Willow teased gently.
"It's not like that," Madison murmured.
"Not yet," Willow corrected.
Madison looked up, eyes thoughtful. "He seems like someone trying not to belong anywhere."
Willow smiled knowingly. "Sometimes those are the ones worth keeping."
Madison wasn't sure about that. But she knew one thing Ethan Carter wasn't just a passing customer anymore. Not in her mind. And maybe not in her heart either.
The next morning, the sky was bright, clouds scattered thin. Madison opened the café as usual, but her pulse sped up slightly as she waited for the familiar sound of the bell.
When Ethan arrived, his steps were slower. His coat dusted with early spring pollen rather than rain. He ordered the same thing, but lingered a little longer at the counter.
Madison risked a real question this time. "You said you left Charleston once. What brought you back?"
Ethan's expression darkened slightly. "Things... unfinished."
Madison respected that. Everyone had something left undone.
That afternoon, when Madison closed up, she stood once again by the same window where Ethan always sat. She traced her fingers along the glass, feeling her own quiet echo starting to stir.