he short drive to the cafe feels eery. We pass a few islanders, who stop picking up trash to straighten up and glare at us. I shrink further in my seat, turning my face away from the window.

Jordan's fingers twitch against mine, a sign that he's nervous. It's strange how easy it is to read him now: I know the slight clench of his jaw means he's worried. The bouncing of his foot, a sign that he's stressed. Three months ago we hated each other, and now I'm terrified of him leaving.

The car pulls to a stop, and Landon kills the engine. I'm scared to straighten up, to open my eyes and see what's left of the cafe. I'm scared to accept that in less than an hour, what's left of my mother will be gone.

"It's just a cafe," I say under my breath. "It's just a cafe." I want it to be true, want Dad's words to help me let go, but it's the one thing I find the hardest to do.

"Evvy, look."

I shake my head. Maybe coming along was a bad idea. Maybe I'm not as ready as I thought.

"Evvy," Jordan says. "Trust me."

With a deep breath, I open my eyes. It takes a few seconds for me to understand what's going on. The Big Fish cafe is swarming with people, all carrying various tools as they hurry back and forth.

Kali is at the forefront, standing by one of the trucks as he pulls out his toolbox. This baby can get us through anything, he'd say proudly as he used it to patch up the holes in the cafe. Maybe he was right.

"What," Landon says, "is going on."

Stunned, Jordan and I look at one another. He breaks into a wonderful grin, but I don't grin back. I can't. I still haven't put the pieces together, or maybe I have, I just don't believe what I'm seeing. I throw open the door, weaving through the parked trucks until I make it to Kali. I tap his shoulder, and he suddenly spins around with a plank in his hand that nearly decapitates me.

"Jeez," he says. "Don't you know not to sneak up on a man operating heavy machinery?"

"You're holding a piece of wood," I say.

"Still woulda taken your head off," he mutters, but he can't keep the grin off his face. "You finally here to help?"

I watch as Mr. Roberts pops out from the side of the cafe, carrying bits of debris. "What's going on?"

Kali wiggles his eyebrows. "I guess your loverboy made quite the impression on Mr. Roberts."

"Mr. Roberts?" I repeat.

Kali gasps in mock surprise. "You're telling me you don't know about Mr. Roberts?"

"What are you talking about?"

He grins again, so it's hard to stay mad. "You might just see an old man, Evvy, but that old dude pretty much helped make this island. He's a heavily respected war veteran with a hell of a lot of influence around here. When he told everyone to rally, they rallied."

I watch Mr. Roberts as he hobbles to different people, directing them where to go. I'd seen a frail, desperate man that night in the storm, but now he's like a general commanding his troopers.

"I didn't think anyone had any more money to donate," I say.

"They don't," Kali says, "so they donated their time, instead. Their resources. Wood, paint, you name it. Anything else we need can be bought with the money you raised from the fundraiser, and those of us who can be will be here every day, building this place from scratch."

I'm shocked into silence. I'd thought everything was hopeless, and I'd finally accepted that the café was gone, only to find that I'm not the only one who wants this cafe to survive, the island does, too.

Kali stops to look at me, tilting his head. "I know what you're thinking, but this isn't about the café, Evvy. As great as it was way back when, it's still just a building. They're doing it for Jordan. For a boy who risked his life to save Woolfie the dog. That's what living on this island is about. Not the places, but the people."

I swallow hard, trying to unlodge the lump in my throat. It's what my dad had tried to tell me before, but I couldn't understand it. This cafe was my lifeline, the one connection I had to my mom, but Kali is right. It's not the building that matters, it's the people who made it such a happy place to begin with.

"It doesn't change anything," I say solemnly. "You're building something Landon is just going to tear down when he buys this place. Jordan still needs the money, and he refuses to use the money we raised to pay his bills. This is our only option."

Kali wiggles his finger at me before bounding down the street. I follow him over to the bed of his truck, where a rough sketch of the cafe's structure sits wedged between a few of his tools.

"This floor is the cafe," he says, pointing to a wonky rectangle, "but we're planning on building a two-bedroom loft on the upper floor, where Jordan and his Mom can live while they run the cafe. He can use the money we raised for his bills and, if he wants to, pay us back once the cafe is back on its feet."

I'm about to argue that it's all just wishful thinking, but I stop. What if Jordan can stay on the island? What if the café can be saved? It's exactly what I've always wanted, so why am I scared to believe it can happen?

I open my mouth–to say what, I don't know– but a raised voice stops me. I turn to the entrance, where Landon is in the middle of a heated argument with Mr. Roberts. Jordan is standing a few feet behind them, hands in his pockets while he looks between the two, conflicted.

I hurry over, slipping into the space beside him. "Hey."

He looks at me, eyes alert. Cautious. "What's going on?"

"They're rebuilding the cafe for you," I say simply. "Seems like you've made quite the impression on Mr. Roberts. Maybe heroes aren't so overrated, after all."

He shakes his head, like the thought of people liking him is such a foreign concept. "I–"

His words are cut off by Landon's raised voice, forcing a crowd to gather around us. "This is my property," Landon hisses at Mr. Roberts. "Everyone needs to leave right now."

"Not yet it isn't," Mr. Robert says. He's got an army of islanders behind him, their arms all folded like we're about to go to war over The Big Fish Cafe.

Kali surges forward like a force to be reckoned with. "Jordan here gets to decide what happens next." He turns to Jordan, tattooed arms folded, and says, "You've got two choices here, kid. We're turning the upper space into a small but functional apartment. You and your mom can move here and help to run the new cafe, or you can sell it. No one is gonna judge you either way. So, what's it gonna be?"

Jordan stills. We'd come here all prepared to make a deal with the devil, only for everything to change again.

I turn to face him, blocking Landon from his view until he's forced to look at me. Taking his hand, I say, "We want you to use the fundraiser money to pay off your bills, and if you're still against it, you can pay it back when the cafe is back on its feet."

He pauses, then looks into the distance. I want to keep going, to beg him to stay here and run the cafe, but Jordan's decision has to be his own, and whatever it is, I'll support him.

"This is a mistake," Landon says, pulling Jordan aside. "Do you really want to be in debt to these people? This place is never going to make enough to pay back any debts. I'll give you triple for the cafe. Sell it to me now, and you can have that money by tomorrow to do whatever you want with. You'll be a free man."

I tug on Jordan's hand, directing his attention back to me. There's alarm in his eyes, because he knows no matter what he chooses, the future is uncertain.

That's the scariest thing of all.