📘 TITLE: UNTIL THE LAST
The soft clatter of cutlery and the low hum of jazz filled the late evening air inside Brennan's Dine & Pour, a modest but charming restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a dusty bookstore. It was the kind of place people came to forget their problems for an hour or two — a warm meal, a strong drink, and a little escape from the world outside.
Behind the counter, Lara adjusted her apron and tied her long, auburn hair into a quick ponytail. The restaurant had quieted down after the dinner rush, and she was grateful. Her feet ached, and the repetitive rhythm of waitressing — smiles, orders, trays, repeat — had long since become second nature.
Kaven, as always, stood at the far end behind the bar. Dressed in black, sleeves rolled up, shaking a cocktail with a casual confidence, he caught her eye and raised a brow. Lara responded with a tired half-smile as she scribbled something on her notepad and turned to check on table six.
They worked well together, a silent language between them built over two decades of friendship. They'd grown up two blocks apart, gone to the same schools, climbed trees, broken bones, and kept each other sane through the worst. Lara had been alone in her apartment since she was sixteen — since the night she got that dreaded phone call about the plane crash that took both her parents. There was no real goodbye, no closure. Just wreckage and a closed casket.
Kaven had been her lifeline since then. While she picked up the pieces, he stuck by her — protective, light-hearted, and at times, maddeningly secretive. He lived with his father — or at least did until a few months ago. Mr. Hollins had taken off on an extended overseas assignment, and Kaven hadn't said much more about it.
Lara didn't pry. Some things were easier left untouched.
---
"Table six wants more water," Lara said, sliding past Kaven at the bar.
He glanced up from his glass. "Again? That guy's a fish."
She smirked. "A thirsty fish."
Kaven grinned and tossed a lemon wedge in her direction. She ducked instinctively, shaking her head. "Grow up."
"You first," he said with a wink, turning back to his station.
For a moment, it felt like nothing could ever shake this — their little world of quiet sarcasm and inside jokes. But then came the voice Lara hated more than any other.
"Lara, can I see you in the back for a second?"
It was the manager — Mr. Hartley.
He was always polite, always smiling. But something about him made Lara's skin crawl. The way his eyes lingered, the fake warmth in his tone, the way he asked personal questions in passing like he had the right. There was no clear boundary crossed — nothing she could point at — but her instincts always went on alert around him.
She hesitated before nodding. "Sure."
---
The office smelled like stale coffee and printer ink. Mr. Hartley stood behind the desk, shuffling through papers.
"I just wanted to say good work tonight," he said, eyes scanning the folder in his hand. "You've been consistent. Reliable. Your parents would be proud."
Lara's breath caught for half a second. The way he said it — like he knew them. But she shook it off.
"Thanks," she said carefully, keeping her voice neutral.
He nodded. "You remind me of your mother. Strong. Kind. Too curious for your own good, though."
That last line lingered in the air like smoke. Lara didn't respond. She just wanted to leave the room.
"Can I go back now?" she asked.
He smiled without answering. Then he turned to place the file on a tall shelf, and that's when something slipped — a photograph fluttered out from between two folders and landed at Lara's feet.
A worn, curled-edge photo — three men standing beside each other, arms slung over shoulders, younger, laughing. Her heart skipped.
The man on the left was her father. The one in the middle… Mr. Hartley. And the one on the right… Kaven's father.
She blinked. The air seemed to still.
Before Hartley could reach for it, Lara bent down and picked it up. Her fingers trembled as she stared at the image. Memories fought their way back — vague, incomplete, fractured.
"You dropped this," she said, forcing her voice to stay calm.
Hartley took it from her, but his expression had changed — tight, guarded.
"Old friends," he said shortly. "Long time ago."
Lara nodded slowly and stepped out of the office before her legs could betray her.
---
That night, she couldn't sleep.
The photo was burned into her mind. Her father. Kaven's father. Mr. Hartley. Together. Smiling.
How did they know each other? Why had her parents never mentioned them?
And why… why had Mr. Hartley said she was too curious for her own good?
---
End of Chapter 1