Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen
Vanessa POV
My alarm went off at six-thirty, dragging me out of a short and restless nap. I groaned, slapping at my phone until the shrill beeping stopped, then lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling.
The first draft of my dissertation was due in three days, and I'd barely scratched the surface of the analysis section. Dr. Han had been clear in her last email—if I didn't have a complete draft by Friday, she'd reconsider my position as her mentee in the program.
Which meant I couldn't afford to waste another day spiraling about Danny Glover, my complicated feelings about hockey and whether I was self-sabotaging or just protecting myself.
I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the fridge with mechanical efficiency. Eggs, bread, the fancy strawberry jam Bean's mom had sent from Seattle that tasted like blueberries instead.
And coffee—lots of coffee.
Crack the eggs, whisk them with a splash of milk, pour them into the heated pan.
The routine helped quiet my mind, watching the liquid transform to something concrete. If only the rest of my life could be that simple.
"You're up early," Bean's voice came from behind me, rough with sleep.
I glanced over my shoulder to find her padding into the kitchen in her pajamas, her auburn hair sticking up at odd angles.
"Dissertation," I said simply, plating the scrambled eggs.
"Want some?" I asked lifting the plate towards her.
"You're a lifesaver." Bean grabbed a plate and loaded it up with bread.
"I have morning classes until two. Are you going to be okay here alone?"
I knew what she was really asking, if I would spend the day obsessing over Danny?
"I'll be fine," I said, pouring coffee into two mugs.
"I'm planning to camp out at the library all day. Can't get distracted if I'm buried in journal articles."
Bean gave me a look that suggested she didn't entirely believe me, but she didn't push.
"Okay. But text me if you need anything. Or if you want to talk."
"I will," I promised, even though we both knew I probably wouldn't.
After Bean left for class, I gathered my laptop, notebooks, and the small mountain of printed articles I'd been highlighting all week.
The walk to the library was short and the cold wind kept biting through my cashmere sweater despite the coat I'd layered over it. I was grateful when I finally pushed through the heavy doors into the warm, quiet building.
I claimed my usual spot on the third floor, dropping my books and materials across the table. By nine o'clock, I was deeply engrossed in my work, my laptop screen filled with half-formed paragraphs on my topic. I tried not to think about Danny–I really did. But my mind kept drifting to Danny's last text.
I'm not going anywhere. Take all the time you need. I'll be here when you're ready.
What did that even mean? Why could he be so patient when I'd basically told him to leave me alone? And why did part of me wish he'd just shown up anyway, space be damned?
I shook my head, forcing my attention back to the screen. Focus, Vanessa. You don't have time for this.
By noon, I'd written another six pages and my eyes were starting to cross from staring at the same screen over and over.
I needed a break, maybe some fresh air, or at least a change of scenery.
I saved my document—twice, because I was paranoid about losing work and having to start all over again.
I headed downstairs to the library café, it was more crowded than I'd expected, full of students cramming for midterms or procrastinating with overpriced lattes. I joined the line, scrolling through my phone while I waited.
No new messages from Danny, which was exactly what I'd asked for, so why did it bother me?
"Vanessa?"
My head snapped up so fast I nearly dropped my phone. Danny stood a few feet away from me, two coffee cups in his hands and an uncertain expression on his face.
He looked good—too good, really, in his dark jeans and a Navy blue henley. His hair was slightly messy, like he'd run his hands through it, and there was a shadow of stubble along his jaw that definitely hadn't been there at the rink.
"Hi," I said, my voice coming out breathier than I'd intended.
"Hi." He took a cautious step closer.
"I, uh... I saw you come down here. Through the window upstairs. I was studying on the second floor."
Of course he was.
"Oh," I said lamely.
Danny shifted his weight, looking almost nervous.
“I know you said you needed space, and I'm not trying to—I mean, I was just getting coffee anyway, and I thought..." He trailed off, then thrust one of the cups toward me.
"I got you this. If you want it. No pressure."
I stared at the cup then back up at him
"What is it?"
"Vanilla latte with an extra shot, oat milk, and just a tiny bit of honey." He rattled off the order without hesitation, and my heart clenched in my chest.
"That's still how you take it, right? Or did that change? Because if it changed, I can go get you something else—"
"It hasn't changed," I interrupted softly.
Danny's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Good. I mean, good that I remembered. Not good that it hasn't changed. Well, I guess it's good either way—" He stopped himself, wincing.
"I'm rambling. Sorry."
I resisted the urge to smile and took the coffee from him, my fingers brushing his for just a second.
The cup was warm, and when I lifted it to my lips, the first sip was perfect. Exactly the way I liked it, exactly the way I'd ordered it a hundred times freshman year when we'd study together at the coffee shop near his dorm.
He remembered.
After three years, after everything that had happened between us, after I'd basically told him to leave me alone—he remembered how I took my coffee.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"You're welcome." Danny smiled, small and genuine, and something in my chest loosened just a fraction.
He looked around the cafeteria and then gestured to an empty table as he looked up at me with a warm desperate gaze.
“ You wanna sit for a while, finish your coffee”