7. Lost and Found

LOST AND FOUND

S unlight crept through unfamiliar curtains, waking me to a room that definitely wasn't my hotel suite. The bed creaked as I sat up - a real, honest-to-God creak, like something from my grandmother's house. No memory foam mattresses at Clara's Place, that's for damn sure.

My phone lay face-down on the nightstand where I'd thrown it last night, probably filled with missed calls and messages I couldn't deal with yet. Cassidy was going to kill me for disappearing. And somewhere out there, Vanessa was probably enjoying every second of my public meltdown.

The room's window offered a view of Main Street coming to life below. Not that there was much life to come to - a few early risers heading to what looked like the local diner, the hardware store owner sweeping his sidewalk, your typical small-town morning routine. No paparazzi, no reporters shoving microphones in faces, no carefully crafted images to maintain.

My reflection in the bathroom mirror told quite a story - designer clothes wrinkled from sleeping in them, hair a mess, dark circles under my eyes. Some hotshot racer I was now. The bruises on my knuckles had darkened overnight, a nice reminder of my wall-punching session. Real mature, Blue. Really showing that stability Vanessa keeps questioning.

Clara had left fresh towels outside my door - thick, soft ones that smelled like actual sunshine instead of whatever designer bullshit the high-end hotels used. The shower's water pressure wasn't great, but it was hot and steady, washing away some of yesterday's chaos.

Clean but wearing yesterday's clothes, I made my way downstairs. The inn's lobby smelled like coffee and something sweet baking. Clara looked up from her crossword puzzle, glasses perched on her nose.

"Morning, stranger. Sleep well?"

"Better than I expected," I admitted. "Thanks for taking me in so late."

"Sheriff Thompson's word is good enough for me." She gestured toward the kitchen. "Coffee's fresh if you want some."

Sheriff Thompson. Right. The tall, dark, and authoritative guy who'd caught me acting like an idiot on his roads last night. Who'd offered help instead of a ticket, despite my best efforts to piss him off.

"Thanks, but I think I'll check out that diner he mentioned." I needed to walk, to think, to figure out what the hell I was doing in this town that looked like it fell out of a Hallmark movie.

The morning air hit me like a wake-up call - clean, crisp, carrying scents of fresh bread and coffee from somewhere down the street. No exhaust fumes, no pressure of cameras waiting to catch my next fuck-up. Just quiet streets and people going about their business.

My feet carried me past storefronts that probably hadn't changed in decades. Sarah's Diner glowed invitingly, already half-full with locals who probably sat in the same booths every morning, drinking the same coffee, living their predictable, peaceful lives.

What the hell was I doing here?

I pulled out my phone, finally facing the screen. Dozens of missed calls, hundreds of messages. But the one that caught my eye was from Tommy. I seriously don’t know when he had learned how to text.

Tommy:

"Dad, are you okay? Mom says you're taking a break to think about stuff. Can I still call you?"

Some father I was, running away to small-town nowhere while my kid worried about whether he could still call me. But the thought of going back, of facing the media circus Vanessa had created, of trying to prove my stability while cameras caught every expression...

A truck rumbled past - someone heading to work, living their normal life where divorce proceedings didn't make national news. The driver nodded at me, just another friendly local gesture. He probably had no idea who I was, didn't care about my latest PR disaster or my custody battle.

The anonymity felt like a gift.

The diner's bell chimed as I pushed through the door. Coffee scent hit me full force, along with the sound of actual conversations - not networking, not image-managing, just people talking about weather and crops and whatever else mattered in a town like this.

"Grab any seat, honey," a waitress called out. "Coffee's hot and the pancakes are fresh."

Part of me knew I should leave. Drive back to the city, face the mess I'd left behind, be the responsible adult everyone expected. But another part, the part that was tired of performing for cameras and fighting losing battles, wanted to sink into one of these worn booths and just... exist.

Maybe that's what Sheriff Thompson had seen last night - not just another rich asshole breaking his speed limits, but someone running on empty, needing a place to refuel.

The booth's vinyl squeaked as I sat down. Through the window, I watched Oakwood Grove continue its morning routine, unaware and uninterested in the minor celebrity hiding in its diner.

The diner hit all my senses at once - sizzling bacon, fresh coffee, and the constant clinking of plates that somehow felt more genuine than any five-star restaurant I'd ever eaten in. The breakfast crowd filled most tables, their conversations creating a comfortable buzz of small-town life.

"Coffee, hon?" A waitress - Sarah herself, according to her name tag - appeared with a pot and a no-nonsense smile. "You're Clara's new guest, aren't you?"

Christ, news traveled fast here. "Uh, yeah. Just coffee, thanks."

"Nonsense. You need food. Nobody leaves my diner running on empty." She filled my cup with practiced efficiency. "The special's French toast today. Or eggs if you're one of those protein people."

Before I could protest, a guy in work boots and a flannel shirt dropped into the booth across from mine, turning his chair to face me. "Sarah's French toast is worth whatever diet you're breaking. Trust me on this."

Great. Just what I needed - friendly locals.

"Thanks for the tip," I muttered, hoping he'd take the hint.

He didn't. "Caleb Winchester,” he said, extending a hand rough with calluses. "Run the stables up at Rolling Hill Ranch."

Did everyone in this town introduce themselves to strangers? I shook his hand briefly, remembering too late about my bruised knuckles.

"Rough night?" Caleb asked, nodding at my hand.

"Something like that."

Sarah returned, setting a plate of French toast in front of me that I definitely hadn't ordered. "On the house, sweetheart. You look like you could use it."

"I really don't-"

"Let her feed you," Caleb interrupted, grinning. "She'll take it personally if you don't. Besides, heard you had a run-in with our sheriff last night. You'll need the energy."

My head snapped up. "How did you-"

"Mrs. Henderson saw the whole thing from her window. Called Nina at the bar, who told Sarah this morning." He shrugged like this was perfectly normal. "Don't worry, Jake's a good guy. Strict about his rules, but fair."

The French toast smelled amazing, but this casual invasion of my privacy was making my stomach turn. "Does everyone here know everything about everyone else?"

"Pretty much." Caleb seemed amused by my discomfort. "It's not as bad as it sounds. People here look out for each other."

"I'm not from here."

"No shit." He laughed. "That car of yours kind of gave that away. But you're here now, so you'll get the full Oakwood Grove welcome whether you want it or not."

As if to prove his point, an elderly woman stopped by our table. "Sarah, is this the young man Jake caught speeding last night? My goodness, he looks exhausted. Better make that coffee to go, dear, and add a muffin."

"Mrs. Henderson," Caleb said smoothly, "don't you have gossip to spread at your usual table?"

She patted my shoulder like I was some lost kid. "Welcome to Oakwood Grove, dear. We're glad to have you."

What the actual fuck was happening?

"They mean well," Caleb said once she'd moved on. "Small towns, you know? Not much excitement."

I picked at the French toast, which was annoyingly delicious. "I'm not here to provide excitement."

"No?" His eyes were sharper than his casual tone suggested. "Then why are you here?"

My phone buzzed again. The screen showed another text from Tommy:

Tommy:

"Mom says you're not answering anyone's calls. Are you mad at me?"

Something must have shown on my face because Caleb's expression softened. "Look, whatever brought you here, whatever you're running from - that's your business. But Oakwood Grove's not a bad place to catch your breath."

"That's what the sheriff said."

"Jake's usually right about these things." Caleb stood up, dropping some bills on his table. "I mean it about the stables, by the way. If you need somewhere quiet to think, horses are better listeners than people."

The offer of solitude, after all this forced socializing, was tempting. "I'll keep that in mind."

Caleb settled back in his chair, something shifting in his expression. The overly cheerful welcome wagon act faded into something more genuine. "You said you're not from around here. Big city guy?"

"Something like that." I stirred my coffee, watching the cream create patterns. "Been living out of hotels lately, actually."

"Sounds lonely." No judgment in his voice, just quiet understanding.

"It's fine." The automatic response slipped out before I could stop it, the same one I gave reporters asking about my 'emotional state.'

"Sure it is." Caleb's smile turned knowing. "That's why you're drinking coffee in a small-town diner at seven in the morning, looking like you're ready to bolt if someone breathes wrong."

I should've been annoyed at his read on me, but something about his direct honesty felt refreshing after months of carefully crafted statements and PR spin.

"Just needed a change of scenery," I said finally. "Somewhere quieter."

"Well, you found it. Oakwood Grove's about as quiet as it gets." He glanced at my phone, which hadn't stopped buzzing. "Most days, anyway."

My hand automatically moved to silence another call - Vanessa this time. Fantastic.

"You know," Caleb said casually, "my partner Liam's doing this charity thing at Rolling Hill Ranch on Friday. Local music, good food, nothing fancy. Might be worth checking out if you're still around."

The simple assumption that I might stick around, that I was just another guy who might enjoy some local entertainment - it hit something in my chest I hadn't expected.

"I don't know how long I'll be staying," I admitted. "Got some stuff to handle back home."

"Don't we all?" Caleb shrugged. "Offer stands either way. Liam's pretty good with a guitar, and Nina makes these sliders that'll make you forget whatever you're running from. At least for a night."

The way he said it - not pushing, not prying, just offering a simple kindness to a stranger - made my throat tight. When was the last time someone had invited me somewhere without wanting something from me?

"Thanks," I managed.

"No big deal." He stood up, brushing crumbs from his flannel shirt. "Like I said, horses are good listeners if you need that first. Stables are open from sunrise to sunset. Just follow the signs past the old Miller place."

My phone lit up with Tommy's face again. This time, I didn't ignore it.

"Go ahead," Caleb said, nodding at the phone. "Sounds important. And hey - welcome to Oakwood Grove. For however long you're here."

He left me there with my coffee and my son's ringtone, having somehow broken through more of my walls in twenty minutes than most people managed in years.

"Hey, champ," I said into the phone, watching Caleb's truck pull away through the window. The diner's morning buzz faded into background noise as Tommy's voice came through.

"Dad! Mom said you weren't answering your phone and I got worried and-" His words tumbled out in that breathless way of his.

"Slow down, buddy." I pressed the phone closer, like it could somehow bring him nearer. "I'm right here. Just needed some quiet for a bit."

"Are you mad at me?" His voice went small, making my heart clench.

"What? No, never. Why would you think that?"

"Because Mom said you left after she talked to the reporters, and I thought maybe it was because of me, like maybe I did something wrong-"

"Tommy, stop." I had to cut him off before he worked himself up more. "Listen to me, okay? Nothing about this is your fault. Nothing. I just... needed to clear my head."

"Like when we go karting?"

A surprised laugh escaped me. "Yeah, kind of like that. Remember what I always say about needing a clear head before a race?"

"Can't drive fast if your brain's going slow," he recited, and I could hear his smile returning.

"Exactly. So I found this quiet little town, and I'm just... taking a pit stop."

"Where are you? Can I come visit? Mom says-"

"One thing at a time, champ." The words hurt to say. "Let me get my head straight first, okay? But hey, tell me about school. How's that science project coming?"

"Oh!" His enthusiasm burst through. "We're building a model solar system! And guess what? I made the race tracks between the planets like you showed me, so the planets can race each other!"

Sarah appeared with more coffee, saw my expression, and quietly backed away. I mouthed 'thank you' as Tommy continued.

"Mrs. Mitchell said it was really creative! And Timmy helped me paint Saturn's rings like flames, just like your old car had-"

“Timmy's been helping you?" That was new. Vanessa must be desperate if she was letting my old crew chief near Tommy.

"Yeah! He comes over sometimes. Says he's keeping an eye on his investment, whatever that means. Dad, when can I work on our go-kart again?"

The question hit like a sucker punch. "Soon as I get back, buddy. Promise. We'll finish it together."

"Pinky promise?"

"Even better." I lowered my voice to our special whisper. "Knock knock."

His giggle was immediate. "Who's there?"

"Love."

"Love who?"

"Love you more than racing."

"Love you more than winning," he finished, our private joke carrying more weight than ever.

A woman's voice in the background - Vanessa, calling him for school. My jaw clenched.

"Gotta go, Dad. You'll answer next time I call, right?"

"Every time, champ. No matter what."

"Okay. Love you! And Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Mom's wrong about you leaving racing. I know you did it for me."

The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me sitting in a stranger's diner, holding a phone that suddenly felt too heavy.

Through the window, I watched Oakwood Grove continue its morning routine, unaware of the way my world kept shifting on its axis. Caleb's invitation echoed in my head - simple kindness offered without agenda. Tommy's voice lingered in my ears - pure love unmarred by courts and custody battles.

Maybe this quiet little town was exactly where I needed to be right now. At least until I could figure out how to be the father my son believed in.