The scent of spices and roasted vegetables greeted Samuel as he turned the key in the lock, pushing the door open and stepping into his apartment. A soft glow spilled out from the small dining area, casting an inviting light over the hardwood floors. The quiet clatter of dishes drifted from the kitchen and, for a moment, Samuel just stood in the doorway. Letting the calm settle over him like a blanket after a long, cold day.
"Hey, you're back!" Savannah's voice floated out, gentle and welcoming. A moment later, she appeared in the opening to the kitchen, a dish towel draped over one shoulder. She was wearing a threadbare apron with the words "I came, I saw, I made dinner (sort of)" on the front in elegant cursive lettering. Samuel couldn't help but smile when he saw it – it had been a birthday gift to her a few years ago. She'd loved it then, and still loved it now. She smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "I wasn't sure when you'd get home, but dinner is on the table. It'll be nice to have you home for a meal!"
Samuel tossed his keys onto the small table near the door, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the nearby hook. "I can't wait. It smells amazing." He walked over to the dining table, where two plates were already set – steaming bowls of what looked like a hearty stew, along with some freshly sliced cinnamon bread.
"I figured you'd be hungry after your shift," Savannah said, walking over to join him. She gestured to the table. "Go on, sit. You look like you could use the break. On your feet all day?"
"Yeah," he said, sliding into one of the chairs. The warmth of the food and the cozy atmosphere already working to ease the tension from his shoulders. Savannah took a seat across from him, her hands neatly folded as she watched him. A curious look settled on her face after a moment.
"You seem… thoughtful," she said after a moment. "Long day? Or is something bothering you?"
He gave a short nod, picking up his spoon and stirring the stew absently. "Yeah, something like that…" he admitted. "The shift was fine – hard, but fine. Routine maintenance stuff, mostly. It's what happened afterward that stuck with me." He hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to say more, before continuing. "I stopped by this little café on my way home."
Savannah raised her eyebrows, her curiosity deepening. "Which one?"
"Driftwood Café, it's right next to Ocean's Cradle. I've always just walked by it, but I guess tonight I was just too tired to think straight and… well, the smell of coffee pulled me in."
Savannah's lips curved into a soft smile. "You? Stopping for coffee? You haven't done that in a long time."
Samuel chuckled, but there wasn't much humor in it. "Yeah, I didn't expect much. I just wanted something to keep me going on my walk home…" he paused, his expression shifting slightly as he recalled the events. "But it turned out to be… well, more than I planned."
"Oh?" Savannah leaned forward. "What happened?"
Samuel leaned back in his chair, toying with his spoon as he replayed the scene in his head. He could still feel the sharp edge of Camille's gaze, the way she'd looked at him like he was a distraction she didn't want or need. He couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't been just about the coffee or the late hour. "I'm not sure what I was expecting," he began, leaning forward and pushing the stew around in his bowl with the spoon. "Maybe just a quiet place to grab a quick coffee. But it turned into this whole thing the moment I walked through the door." He shook his head, exhaling through his nose, frustration still lingering in his voice.
Savannah just waited patiently, sensing that Samuel was still working through the details. She didn't rush him, but took a few bites of her stew while waiting for him to continue.
"So, I walk in, and immediately this woman—Camille—gives me this look like I just kicked down the front door and made myself at home." He paused for a beat, taking a spoonful of the stew before continuing, his tone betraying his exasperation. "She's standing behind the counter, and I'm thinking I'll just grab something and be on my way. But she starts giving me a bunch of attitude like I'm interrupting her whole evening."
Savannah frowned, something Samuel wasn't used to seeing. "That doesn't sound like a good start."
"Nope," Samuel let out a short laugh, although it didn't carry a lot of mirth or amusement to it. "I didn't even get a chance to order before she's telling me that it's almost closing time. I get it, it's late, but she just shut me down before I can even order." He shook his head. "I wasn't in the mood for her attitude, and I was honestly thinking about just leaving if it went much further. But then, of course, there had to be another barista."
He pushed his bowl away for a moment, rubbing his hands together as he continued talking. His tone was tinged with annoyance, but now it seemed to carry an undertone of amusement. "This other chick, Nat, just had to stick her nose in. And I barely had time to decide if I'm going to stay or go when she starts turning the place into a comedy club. Running her mouth about how 'Cammy' is in a mood and, of course, it's all fun and games for her."
"Sounds like she's one of those people who likes to make everything into a joke," Savannah said.
Samuel gave a shrug. "Yeah, that's one way to put it. It was like she was trying to make light of the whole situation. She just kept being ridiculous—maybe trying to get this Camille woman to crack a smile—but it didn't work too well. Camille is one of those ice queens. She just kept doing her thing, barely even acknowledging Nat, which I think made it worse."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Nat even tried to give me my coffee for free, like it was some kind of peace offering or something. You know me better than that, though – I wasn't about to take a handout like that. Just gave her the money and left."
Savannah nodded, but if he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he kept going. "And then, on the way home, I finally took a sip…" he drummed his fingers on the table. "It was vanilla." He said it so quietly she almost missed it. Like he was speaking more to himself than to her. "I didn't order vanilla. I didn't even ask for anything specific. Just a damn latte… but somehow, that's what I got."
He paused, his jaw tightening. "It tasted just like the lattes Sophia and I used to drink, back when… you know…" he didn't need to finish the thought. The weight of her name, of what they'd both lost, hung between them. "It caught me off guard… hit me harder than I expected. I wasn't ready for that kind of memory tonight."
Savannah looked down at the table, letting his words settle before responding. She didn't press him; didn't try to say something profound. Instead, she reached across the table, her hand finding his. Her fingers were warm, steady, offering silent reassurance. Samuel's hand closed around hers instinctively; a quiet gesture of thanks. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze in response, her eyes drifting to the window. "Something like that happened to me a few days ago."
Samuel's brow furrowed lightly, his thumb unconsciously brushing over her knuckles. "What do you mean?"
She smiled wistfully, but it did little to hide the sadness behind it. "I was down at the market last week, picking up a few things. Nothing special – milk, bread, stuff like that. But then I passed this stall that was selling fresh lavender and…" she trailed off, her voice growing quieter. "Well, it reminded me of how Sophia used to love the smell of it. Remember? She's pick lavender whenever we went walking together. Used to say it made everything feel peaceful?"
Samuel didn't respond right away, but he nodded, the memory as clear in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. He could see Sophia, laughing as she tucked a spring of lavender behind Savanah's ear, teasing them both about how they needed to stop and appreciate the little things. Oh how right she had been.
Savannah's voice pulled him back. "It caught me off guard, like you were talking about. I wasn't expecting to feel anything but it was like… suddenly, I could hear her voice. For a second, it felt like she was standing right there next to me." She smiled again, this time a little stronger. "Maybe things like that—like you getting vanilla in your latte or me finding lavender—maybe they're her way of reminding us that she's still around. Still watching over us."
Samuel's grip tightened slightly on her hand, not in discomfort but in solidarity. "You really believe that?" he asked.
"I don't know," Savannah answered, her voice thoughtful. "But I want to. It makes it easier, thinking that she's still with us somehow. That even if she's not here in the way she used to be, she hasn't really left. Little things like this… they're like her way of saying she's still part of our lives."
Samuel didn't say anything for a while. He just stared down at their joined hands, letting Savannah's words circle in his mind. He wasn't the kind of person who believed in signs or ghosts, or in people watching over them. He was a realist. Pragmatic and practical. But tonight, with the taste of the vanilla latte still lingering in his mind, he found himself wondering if maybe—just maybe—there was something to it. "It's a nice thought," he said finally. "Thinking she's still watching out for us."
Savannah gave his hand another squeeze before letting go and turning her attention back to the stew. "It is. And maybe… maybe it's okay if we let ourselves believe it now and then."
"Yeah," he said quietly, more to himself than to her. "Maybe it is."
He shifted in his seat, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the bowl. He looked up at Savannah, his brow furrowed as if he were weighing his next words carefully. Finally, he exhaled and spoke. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag all that up tonight. You didn't need—"
"Shh," Savannah cut him off with a soft but firm voice, shaking her head. Her eyes met his, clear and steady, but filled with a quiet understanding. "You don't have to apologize. It still hurts… for both of us. But talking about her doesn't make it worse. If anything, I think it helps a little." She gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I'm not upset."
He studied her for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether she really meant it. He found no trace of resentment in her expression; only warmth and something else – something he couldn't quite put into words but that made him feel, just for that one moment, as if things weren't as heavy as they seemed.
"She'd probably hate that we're sitting here all mopey," Savannah added after a moment, a hint of playful teasing in her tone. "You know how she was. She'd be making faces, telling us to lighten up."
Samuel cracked a smile at that. "Yeah, and probably making some terrible joke about ghosts or something."
"Exactly," Savannah said with a light giggle. "She always knew how to lift the mood, didn't she? Even when things were… hard."
That last word hung between them for a moment, carrying the weight of the memories neither of them needed to say aloud. Their shared loss was always there, a quiet undercurrent in their lives, but it was the moments like this – where they could talk about her without feeling crushed by grief – that reminded them that they were getting through it. Together. One day at a time.
Samuel leaned back in the chair. "Thanks, Savannah."
"For what?"
"For just being you. For not shying away from this stuff." He glanced at her, his mouth twitching into a half-smile. "You've always been better at this kind of… thing… than me."
She shrugged, though her expression softened. "We balance each other out, right? You're the steady one. I'm just… trying to keep up."
"You do a lot more than that," he said, pointing across the table with his spoon. "And she would've said the same thing."
Her smile turned wistful again, her eyes dropping to her now-empty bowl. "I hope so."
Samuel straightened up in his chair, willing himself to shake off the heaviness that has settled over the table. He hadn't meant to make the evening so melancholy. He could feel the tiredness in his bones, both from his work shift and from the burden of bottled-up emotions. Still, he wasn't going to leave it all lingering over the dinner table. It wasn't fair. "So," he said, forcing his voice to sound casual. "How was your day? Do anything fun?"
Savannah blinked as if the question caught her by surprise. She met his gaze, hesitation flickering over her face before she smiled. "Oh, you know… a day like any other, I guess."
Samuel raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of the stew before continuing. "Come on, I know you've got something interesting to tell me. You were out earlier, right? I know you'd been thinking about it."
She let out a small giggle, nodding. "Well," she began, leaning forward slightly. "I went to the market. Just to pick up a few things. I was planning on getting some fresh herbs for the stew, but then I saw this guy… and I had to stop."
Samuel's brows rose. "A guy?"
"Yeah! He was standing by the canal with—" her voice trailed off as her eyes sparkled. "—his pet otters!"
Samuel blinked, as if uncertain if he'd heard her correct. "Pet… otters?"
"Yes, three of them!" Savannah squealed, her hands clapping together in sheer, unbridled excitement. "They were so cute. I mean, I was doing my best not to just melt when I saw them. The guy was feeding them, and they were all swimming around, trying to grab the bits of fish he was throwing in. It was the cutest thing ever!"
Samuel couldn't help but laugh at the sheer energy in her voice. She was practically glowing with enthusiasm, and he loved it. The transition from their earlier, heavier moment was so swift that it emotionally disoriented him, but it was a welcome change. He loved with when he got to see this side of Savannah – her warmth, her ability to find joy in things. It was like she was a whole different person when she talked about the things that made her happy. It felt like it had been far too long since he'd seen it.
Savannah continued, resting on her elbows. "Anyway, I got to chatting with one of the local girls after that."
"Oh, getting friendly with the locals, hm?" he teased.
Savannah blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and nodding. "Yeah. Her name's Fiona. She does deliveries around town, and we got to talking… we just kind of clicked, I guess."
"Clicked, huh?" Samuel asked, raising an eyebrow.
Savannah's blush deepened. "N-not like that. She's just… easy to talk to." Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. "She said the guy with the otters is a little weird and suspicious, but I'm not complaining yet. His otters were the best part of my day."
Samuel chuckled, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "This Fiona sounds interesting," he said, returning to his stew to finish it. "I'm sure you'll see her around again."
"I hope so," Savannah said cheerfully, looking out the window for a moment as she fidgeted absently with her spoon. "She seemed really nice, but I bet doing delivery work keeps her pretty busy, but… I don't know. It's really easy to talk to her. There's something nice about finding people who get you, even in a place like this. It makes it feel a little less lonely.
"Sounds like she was looking out for you, in case this otter guy turns out to be a handful."
Savannah nodded. "I think she was… and she's one of those people that makes you feel like you've known her forever when you're talking with her." She shook her head, waving a hand. "Anyway, after we talked a bit, she took me to the bakery by the plaza. She said I had to try their cinnamon bread. And…" she gestured to the few slices on the plate near him. "I might've brought some home for us. You have to try it."
Samuel looked down at the bread. It did look tempting. The warm scent of cinnamon wafted up from it, and even with the stew in his stomach, he felt it grumble slightly in anticipation. He took a slice and chewed it thoughtfully before nodding in approval. The flavor was rich and comforting, but the cinnamon didn't punch him in the palette like some things did. "Mm," he said, nodding again. "This is good."
She watched him savor the bread with a pleased grin. "Told you. The bakery girl said I had to bring you in next time. Apparently, she wants to meet you."
"Samuel raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-bite. "She said that?"
Savannah nodded, her eyes glinting with mischief and amusement. "Yeah, Marine—that's her name—was super friendly. Fiona said she's just like that – likes to flirt with all the guys in town." Savannah chuckled. "That's why she wants me to bring my brother sometime: so she can say hello."
Samuel sighed, finishing the piece of bread. "Great. Sounds like a someone else I get to avoid."
"Oh, come on!" Savannah teased, nudging his leg under the table. "She was just being friendly. Besides, the bread is worth it. House-made butter too. And you know… it wouldn't hurt you to be social for once."
"I am social," Samuel said defensively. "I talk to you, don't I?"
Savannah rolled her eyes, smiling. "That doesn't count. You don't have a choice – you're stuck with me."
"Well, maybe I'll think about it," he conceded, though the idea of meeting someone flirty, like this Marnie woman, sounded more exhausting than anything. Still, he couldn't deny how good the cinnamon bread was. "If nothing else, I guess I owe her a thank you for this."
Savannah laughed softly, a sound that dispelled the last bit of lingering tension hanging over the table. "See? That wasn't so hard."
"Yeah, yeah," Samuel muttered, but there was the ghost of a smile on his lips. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a little lighter. He stuffed the last of the cinnamon bread in his mouth before leaning back in the chair and stretching. He let out a satisfied sigh before looking across the table. "Anyway, I'm wiped. Work today was rough, and I could really use a hot shower."
Savannah nodded in understanding. "Makes sense – you've been at it all day, and you had to deal with that woman at the café. Go ahead – just don't use up all the hot water. I'm heading in after you."
He winked at her, standing up. "No promises," he teased.
"Samuel Carter," she said in a warning tone, narrowing her eyes playfully. "I mean it. If I end up standing under ice cold water because you took a half-hour shower again, we're gonna have words!"
He laughed as he headed for the bathroom. "Relax, I'll be quick." He paused in the doorway before looking back. "And thanks for dinner, by the way. And for… everything else."
Savannah smiled. "Any time."
Without another word, Samuel disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the small apartment shortly after. Savannah remained at the table, finishing the last sip of her drink and letting herself sink into the comfort of the moment. As much as Rookpoint was still new to her, there was something about nights like this—quiet, simple, and shared with someone who understood her—that made it feel a little more like home.