Interlude: The Breezy Muffin Café

  The Breezy Muffin Café was easy to find—Kael just followed the smell.

  Warm cinnamon. Toasted sugar. Something citrusy. Something buttery. And something that Kessa, with unnerving sincerity, described as “a hug your mouth can smell.”

  They stepped through the café doors into a pocket of warmth and light nestled between two utilitarian station corridors. The walls were paneled in soft wood laminate, strung with warm-toned fairy lights. Tables mismatched intentionally—no two chairs the same height, but all equally comfortable.

  Behind the counter stood a stout older man in a powder-blue apron, flipping muffins out of a tray with the precision of a surgeon.

  Kessa inhaled dramatically. “Kael… I want to live here.”

  Kael glanced around. “Not possible. Too many seats. You’d prank the chairs out of alignment.”

  “Tempting,” she admitted.

  The man behind the counter waved a muffin like a conductor’s baton. “New faces! You smell like fresh haulers. Or possibly stress. Could be both!” He grinned. “Name’s Merrin. What’ll it be?”

  Kessa strode right up. “Everything.”

  Kael caught her by the collar and gently tugged her back. “Two things. She’ll have two things.”

  Merrin leaned forward conspiratorially. “You can tell she’s the chaos sibling.”

  “That obvious?” Kael asked.

  “As obvious as the blueberry stains on Gribble’s helmet.”

  Kessa threw both hands up. “I love this place.”

  Merrin plunked a freshly baked muffin into a paper wrap and slid it across the counter. “Try this one. It’s our signature: the Breezy Burst.”

  Kessa picked it up reverently. “What’s in it?”

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  “A little bit of citrus, a little sweet crunch, a touch of spice, and a whole lot of hope.”

  Kael raised a brow. “Hope?”

  Merrin winked. “I bake with my emotions.”

  Kessa took a bite and made a sound normally reserved for spiritual revelations.

  Kael tried not to laugh. “Is it good?”

  “Kael.” She pointed at the muffin dramatically. “This muffin could end wars.”

  Merrin bowed. “High praise!”

  Kael ordered a less emotionally-complicated blueberry muffin. When he bit into it, he understood instantly why the café was beloved throughout the Lanes.

  Soft, tender, steaming, perfectly balanced. Like the muffin equivalent of hyperspace: warm, enveloping, impossible not to sink into.

  They took seats by the viewport window, where the faint glow of Nettle Station’s traffic lights pulsed like lazy fireflies.

  Kessa leaned forward, crumbs dusting her shirt. “So. We actually did it.”

  Kael nodded slowly. “Yeah. We did.”

  “Our first delivery. Our first client. No catastrophic failures. Just… plant drama.”

  “And snack conflict.”

  “Snack justice,” she corrected with a serious nod.

  Kael rolled his eyes, but the motion was softened by a smile.

  A chime sounded above the counter. Merrin glanced up. “Ah! Gribble’s favorite order is ready.”

  Kessa twisted in her seat. “Gribble has a favorite order?”

  “Of course,” Merrin said. “Daisy-berry crumble muffins. They say it reminds them of sunshine and bad decisions.”

  Kael snorted. “That tracks.”

  The café doors slid open and Gribble Sundown burst in, helmet bobbing, humming their earlier tune.

  They saw the twins and lit up. “Look! My favorite haulers! And my favorite muffins!” They grabbed two from the counter, which Merrin had apparently pre-wrapped with daisy-pattern ribbon.

  Gribble plopped down at the twins’ table uninvited—with full expectation of being welcome. “So! How’d the meeting with Elyra go? Did the basil behave?”

  Kessa answered around a mouthful of crumbs. “It shimmied.”

  Gribble nodded sagely. “Yes. It does that.”

  Kael laughed softly. “Everything does something in this galaxy.”

  “That’s the beauty of it!” Gribble spread their arms wide. “Nothing is boring. Not even lunch.”

  They all sat together in the warm hum of the café, sharing muffins, laughter, and the easy company of people who felt like family even after a single day.

  Outside the viewport, a few haulers launched in slow arcs away from Nettle Station, their engines leaving faint blue trails.

  Kessa nudged Kael gently. “We’re gonna be like that.”

  Kael took another bite of his muffin and let the warmth settle into him.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We really are.”

  And for the first time, not a single part of him doubted it.