everal emotions cross Jordan's face. He's speechless for a moment, looking between Mr. Roberts and me like he's trying to find his words. In the brief silence that follows, I imagine him thinking of his mother back home, waiting for him to return with some money. I think about how much effort he's put into finding a suitable buyer, not for him, but for me. All that time, that effort, and now it's all gone.

But mostly, I think about her. I fight back the tears as her face fills my head, as bright and as warm as ever. Even though it sounds absurd, it's like I'm mourning her all over again. Maybe Dad's right and she wasn't the cafe, but that cafe was still a piece of her. A piece of her she loved and cherished, a place she called her safe space. And just like that, the safety is ripped away by something as violent and unforgiving as a storm.

Panic takes over. "I'm sure it's not that bad," I say, sounding frantic. "Kali can be dramatic sometimes. I'm sure we can patch any littles holes right back up. I've been doing it for years." But I can hear the desperation in my voice, the hopelessness of my hope. The truth is, if the damage is bad enough for Kali to call, the odds are not in our favor.

Despite being stunned, my hand reaches for Jordan's, but he gets to his feet. "We need to go," he says, pulling on his jacket. "I need to see if it's salvageable. If the damage isn't too bad, I can still convince the buyers to go through with the sale." He sounds determined, as hopeful as I am, but the defeat in his eyes is all too apparent.

I get to my feet, too, nodding. The wellbeing of this cafe is important to both of us, but for very different reasons. "Kali and some others are already there to clean up the debris."

We turn to Mr. Roberts, who is looking between us uncertainly. Woolfie barks at his feet like he knows something's up, and Mr. Roberts rubs his head. "Is there anything I can do for you both?" he asks.

"No, we'll be fine," Jordan says, but he looks a little pale. "Thanks for having us."

Mr. Roberts nods as he leads us to the front door. "Thanks for coming over. I really do hope everything works out with the cafe," he says, patting Jordan on the back. "You're a good kid. Both of you are."

I try to smile back, but it comes out as more of a grimace. Then, with a deep breath, Jordan takes my hand and we step onto the street. Outside, the rest of the neighbors are busy picking up bits of debris. It's completely stopped raining, but a small gust of wind still blows about the trees, sending a shiver down my arms. Something tells me it's not because I'm cold.

"It will be quicker to take my bike," I say, grabbing Jordan's hand, and we race down the path toward my house. I pull the bike from the garage and let Jordan climb on first before standing on the back. It's not exactly the most comfortable method–this bike is old and not made for both our weight–but it's quicker than walking.

Jordan pedals as hard as he can against the pull of the wind. The world passes by in a blur, my heart beating in rhythm with the clunking of the bike. I keep trying to think up scenarios in which the cafe ends up fine, but deep down, I know it won't be.

And then what?

I swallow hard and push the thought out of my head, squeezing Jordan tighter. I don't want to think about what this means for Jordan. I don't want to think about how a cafe so important to this island has been stolen by this island. I don't want to think, full stop.

From what I can see, the rest of the island held up relatively well. Most of our buildings are built for this weather, and the shutters have protected the windows and roofs. The only debris on the paths is from things that people forgot to tie down and uprooted, rotten trees.

Finally, we pull up to the cafe – or what's left of it. We stare up in horror, neither of us moving as we take it all in. Kali, unfortunately, had not been exaggerating. Despite the shutters we'd put in place, the place is a mess. Half of the roof has been ripped clean off, leaving a gaping hole in the exterior, one that isn't going to be quickly patched up with Kali's special paste this time. The rest hasn't fared much better. The shutters half hang from the fragmented windows, the Frangipani flowers and the trays from which they sprung now sit strewn in the street: everything is destroyed.

Blood rushes to my head as I take in the damage. For a second, I forget about Jordan. I forget about everyone else that is gathered around, mourning their favorite cafe. They blur out of focus, their voices and faces lost to my memories of this very cafe. The ice creams Mom would make us, the way the three of us would sit in one of these booths and stare at the dock. A part of me had gotten used to the idea of losing this place to one of Jordan's buyers, but I'd never once imagined I'd lose this cafe to a storm.

Jordan is silent. Defeated. His eyes roam the walls, taking in the damage to the roof and the walls, the holes in the plaster that let us see through to the booths. There's no way the couple he'd found will buy this place in the state that it is, and he knows it.

"I really thought this place would make it," Kali says in a low voice behind me. "We did everything we could to keep it safe, but the building is old. We should have had the roof and the windows swapped out a long time ago, but with money and all..." his voice trails off. "The inside is pretty wrecked, too."

Jordan lifts his head now. He opens what's left of the door and steps inside, taking in the carnage. Booths have been shredded by flying debris, tiles uplifted, and with the shutters and roof having failed to do their job, everything is soaked to the bone.

"Maybe they'll buy anyway," I say, looking at Jordan. "It's not your fault it got hit by the storm."

"The buyers already stopped by earlier," Kali says quietly. "They're the ones who informed me of the damage. Said they don't have enough money to spend fixing it up. They're backing out." Jordan doesn't speak, but I can see from the way his jaw is clenched that he's fighting back emotion. "I'm sorry kid," Kali says. "I know how hard you've worked to get this place to sell. It's a damn shame."

Throat tight, I reach for Jordan's hand, but the movement sparks him into action. "I need to go," he says gruffly, and just as I'm about to tell him I'll get my bike, he's heading off without me, moving so fast that it's clear I'm not to follow.

Kali gives me this pitiful look and pulls me into a hug. "I'm sorry, Evvy. I know how much this place means to you. After everything you did to try and save it, it should never have ended like this."

I duck my head to hide the fact my eyes are watering. "Thanks, Kali. I need to go – I'll see you soon, okay?"

He nods and gives my hand a squeeze, but it doesn't offer me the comfort it usually does, not when everything feels so hopeless. With a goodbye to the others, I grab my bike and start pedaling as fast as I can.

There's no specific place in mind, but I end up heading for the beach. My heart is pounding as fast as my feet, the blood rushing up to my ears. My eyes are so blurry with tears that it's difficult to see, but I don't slow down. I'm not going to cry until I get to the beach.

To my relief, Mom's beach is empty. The locals who now know about this place are too busy cleaning up what the storm left behind, so I have the place to myself. The tears pool over as I run toward the water and start to wade in. It is only when I'm completely submerged – when I'm hidden away from the rest of the world and the pain that it brings – that I finally let them fall.

❤️