Ava's hands moved on autopilot, refilling mugs, wiping crumbs from cracked laminate tables, offering polite smiles to customers who didn't see the storm brewing behind her eyes. The man in the booth, Ethan Cross, though she didn't know that name yet, hadn't moved. He drank his coffee like it was the only thing tethering him to this place, eyes tracking her every step.
She hated it, the way his gaze pinned her shoulders, a weight she didn't have the strength to shrug off. Maybe he was a cop, or worse, a debt collector in plain clothes. Maybe Kevin had sent him, though the thought of her ex-husband caring enough to pay someone to track her down was almost laughable.
"Hey," Tina hissed, elbowing her at the counter. "What's up with Booth Five? You know him?"
"No," Ava muttered, grabbing a stack of clean mugs and pretending to reorganize the rack. "Just a customer."
"Looks like more than that," Tina teased. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Cute, though. Broody. You got a secret sugar daddy, Ava?"
Ava shot her a look sharp enough to slice through the gossip. "Don't start."
Tina threw her hands up. "Fine. Fine. But if he leaves a big tip, you're buying lunch."
Ava didn't bother answering. She carried Ethan's plate to him, setting it down carefully so she didn't have to meet his eyes for too long. She hated the tremble in her fingers she knew he saw it. Knew he was filing it away in that sharp, quiet mind of his.
"Need anything else?" she asked, voice clipped.
He tilted his head, studying her like he was reading between the lines of her words. "Sit with me."
"I'm working."
"Five minutes."
She shook her head, glancing toward the manager's office door, cracked open just enough for Joe to poke his balding head through if he got bored enough to care. "I can't."
Ethan leaned forward, elbows resting on the chipped Formica table. His voice dropped low enough that she had to bend closer to hear him. "I'm trying to help you, Ava. But you have to give me five minutes."
Panic clawed at her throat. Help me? No one helped for free. Not anymore.
"Eat your breakfast," she snapped, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Or I'll get Joe to throw you out."
To her surprise, his mouth quirked. Not quite a smile, more like an admission that he could see through her bluff. He leaned back, picking up his fork. "Suit yourself."
She turned away before he could say anything else, focusing on the counter where an order bell dinged twice, a shrill reminder that the world didn't pause just because some stranger in a suit decided she was interesting.
The hours bled together the way they always did on dead-end mornings, coffee refills, greasy plates, polite nods to truckers and locals who didn't care if she smiled as long as the eggs were hot and the coffee bottomless. She liked that part, the anonymity of it, the way no one asked her what kept her up at night. Ethan stayed, He didn't fidget or scroll his phone like other lingerers. He just watched, sometimes reading the newspaper he'd pulled from the rack by the door, sometimes staring out the window at the street beyond. But mostly, his eyes found her, tracking her steps like he was waiting for her to trip.
Every time she glanced at him, his expression was the same, patient, unreadable, as if he knew exactly how this would play out.
By ten, the breakfast rush was thinning. Joe emerged from his office smelling like stale coffee and stale cigarettes. He gave Ava a once-over and jerked his thumb toward the register.
"Break," he grunted.
"I'm fine," she said quickly. She didn't want a break. She wanted to keep moving, to keep her feet under her, her mind occupied with menial tasks that didn't leave room for the bigger fears crowding her chest.
Joe frowned, scratching his chin. "I said break, Carter. Go take five. Tina'll cover."
She opened her mouth to argue, but the look on Joe's face shut her up. She untied her apron and ducked behind the counter, pretending not to feel Ethan's eyes following her every move.
Outside, the air had shifted, a heavy, wet cold that sank through her thin jacket and made her bones ache. She leaned against the brick wall by the dumpster, staring at the cracked asphalt like it held the answers she was running out of questions for.
A flicker of motion caught her eye. Ethan stood by the alley entrance, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He looked bigger out here, framed by gray sky and city noise, a shadow stepping into her personal storm.
"I said no," she called, hugging her arms around herself. Her voice sounded small against the rusted hum of traffic.
"I know," he said, coming closer anyway. He stopped just short of her reach, as if he knew she'd bolt if he crossed that invisible line. "But you need to hear me out."
Ava straightened, forcing her spine stiff. "Who are you?"
"My name's Ethan Cross," he said. "I'm not a cop. I'm not here to hurt you."
She laughed, the sound harsh in the cold. "Well, that covers what you're not. Try telling me what you are."
He held her gaze, and for a heartbeat, she thought he might lie, that he'd spin some story that made her feel safer. But he didn't.
"I'm an investigator," he said. "Private. I work cases the cops don't want to touch."
She blinked. "What does that have to do with me?"
"A lot more than you think," he said. His tone shifted, lower, almost gentle, and that scared her more than his silence had. "Ava, you're about to be in something you can't crawl out of on your own."
She felt it then, the dread like a stone in her belly, the truth she'd been dancing around for weeks, maybe months. The sense that the world was waiting to bury her alive if she stopped fighting for even one second.
"You don't know anything about me," she whispered.
Ethan's eyes softened, but his mouth stayed hard. "I know enough. I know someone's setting you up for something big, and you're the only loose thread they can't cut."
Ava pressed her back against the cold wall, breath clouding in front of her. "I don't have time for this. I have a sick kid. Bills. Rent"
"I know." His voice was so calm it made her want to scream. "I'm trying to stop it before you lose everything."
She wanted to laugh at him. Lose everything? What else was left to take?
"Why me?" she asked, voice raw. "Why would anyone bother?"
Ethan didn't answer right away. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded envelope. He held it out, but Ava didn't move to take it.
"This is bigger than rent," he said. "Bigger than overdue bills. They're using you, Ava and if you don't listen to me, you're going to end up taking the fall for something that isn't your fault."
She stared at the envelope, white, creased, ordinary. But it felt like a bomb between them, its edges cutting the air she'd been using to breathe.
Before she could ask what was inside, the back door slammed open behind her. Joe's voice boomed through the narrow alley, slicing through the fragile moment like a blade.
"Carter! You planning on moving back in anytime today? Or should I dock your check for the hour you're wasting out here?"
Ava didn't answer. She just stared at Ethan, at the envelope he still held out like a promise or a threat.
She didn't take it. Not yet.
Ava didn't speak as she slipped past Joe, mumbling an apology she knew he didn't care to hear. She ducked back inside the warmth of the diner, but her hands stayed ice cold, the back of her neck prickling as if Ethan's words were still echoing in the alley.
They're using you.
You're the only loose thread.
She pushed the thoughts down, burying them under muscle memory, pick up the coffee pot, refill table six, clear the empty plates at the counter. Pretend her heartbeat wasn't loud enough to drown out the kitchen radio.
Tina gave her a look when she passed the register. "Everything good? You look like you saw a ghost."
Ava forced a thin smile. "I'm fine."
"Yeah," Tina snorted, "tell your face that."
Ava busied herself wiping down the counter. She glanced through the window. Ethan was gone. A trickle of relief found her chest, but only for a second. Something white sat under the salt shaker at his booth. Her breath caught.
Before Tina or Joe could say anything, Ava crossed the floor, grabbed the envelope, and tucked it into her apron pocket. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped it twice.
She didn't open it. Not here, under the flickering neon lights and the tired eyes of customers who didn't care if her world was tilting sideways.
Her shift dragged on in heavy silence. The usual insults from Joe, the lazy chatter of Tina, the endless clatter of plates, it all blurred at the edges while her mind replayed Ethan's warning on a cruel loop.
She slipped the envelope out once, just to feel it, to know it was real. It felt heavier than paper should, like it contained the answer to a question she hadn't dared to ask yet.
By the time her shift ended, the sky outside was a dirty gray, threatening rain that smelled like pennies and old concrete. Ava shoved her tips, a handful of crumpled ones and loose coins, into her coat pocket. It wouldn't buy groceries. It wouldn't even buy half of Lila's prescription.
Joe didn't bother saying goodbye as she clocked out. She didn't care. She slipped through the back door into the alley again, her breath ghosting in the chill.
She looked for Ethan, half-hoping he'd be leaning against the dumpster, ready to finish what he'd started. But the alley was empty, just her and the echo of the diner's neon sign humming above the back door.
She tugged the envelope out, turning it over in her hands. Her thumb slipped under the flap. She could almost hear Ethan's voice again, They're using you, Ava.
Before she could open it, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She flinched so hard she nearly dropped both the envelope and the cheap burner phone she'd downgraded to last month when the unpaid bills piled too high.
One new text.
Her stomach dropped when she saw the sender: Mr. Daniels.
Rent's due tomorrow. Don't make me come back.
Ava clenched the phone so tight her knuckles turned white. Rent. Lila's fever. Ethan's warning. The envelope pressed against her palm like a dare.
She looked up at the bruised sky, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She couldn't fall apart. Not here. Not now.
She shoved the envelope into her purse, hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder, and stepped out of the alley into the city's noisy heartbeat. Somewhere in this mess, she had to find a way to keep her daughter safe. To keep the walls from closing in.
She didn't know it yet, not fully, but the day had just drawn its battle lines. And Ava Carter, already tired and frayed, was standing squarely in the crossfire.