LOVE CAN’T BE WRONG

The alarm blared to life, jolting Sam from a tangled dream of running through fog and shouting for someone she couldn’t see. She groaned, face buried in her pillow, arm flailing toward the nightstand.
She missed.
Oh s**t, I’m going to be late, she thought, adrenaline kicking in as she forced herself upright and stumbled toward the bathroom. The chill of the tile floor under her feet shocked her more awake than the alarm had.
Ten minutes later, her hair was dripping wet, and the bathroom mirror was fogged with steam. She wrapped her curls into a quick bun and gave her reflection a hard stare.
“This is it,” she told herself. “New city. New job. Don’t screw it up.”
Back in her room, she slipped into a simple blouse and black jeans, professional enough to make a good first impression, casual enough for diner work. She barely had time to toast a slice of bread and slather it with peanut butter before her eyes darted to the kitchen clock.
“James!” she yelled. “James Levine! I know you can hear me. Get in here right now or forfeit archery!”
Two seconds later, her younger brother appeared in the doorway with the same smirk he always wore when she called him like that.
“You know, one day you’re going to scream my name and I won’t come running,” he said, arms crossed.
“Oh, don’t give me that face.” She jabbed a finger at him. “I know I’m late, and yes, it’s a new job. But nothing else can possibly go wrong today, right?
He snorted. “It’s a new job, which is why you probably should’ve gone to sleep last night instead of overthinking. Honestly, Sam, it’s not your first time waiting tables. You don’t have to—”
Brrriiiiinng.
The alarm clock buzzed again from her room.
James raised a brow. “You didn’t even turn it off?”
“It went off by itself the first time!” she argued, walking back into her room to finally silence it.
“Sure it did,” he called after her.
“Alright, enough jibber-jabber. I need to go before I get fired on my first day.”
He stepped into the kitchen. “Are you just going to leave without telling me why you screamed my name like I set the apartment on fire?”
“Oh right. Nothing.” She grinned over her shoulder. “I just like screaming your name in the morning.”
“I should’ve known.” He rolled his eyes, but she caught the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
She grabbed her bag, pausing in the doorway. “Just don’t stay out late, okay? There’s food in the fridge.”
“I won’t,” he said, his voice echoing as the door clicked shut behind her.
Outside, the morning was already in full swing. People bustled by in a blur of coats, coffee cups, and hurried footsteps. Sam took a deep breath and stepped off the curb—and almost got flattened by a black sedan.
She yelped and leapt back as the car slammed its brakes, the screech sharp enough to freeze her in place. The driver’s window was tinted, but she knows the driver will be radiating with fury.
“Sorry!” she mouthed, waving awkwardly before hurrying across the street. Okay, she thought, so maybe one or two more things can go wrong.
Her heart thudded as she flagged down a cab and slid inside, her thoughts bouncing between what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. But when the cab finally pulled up in front of Wick’s Diner, something about the place grounded her.
It was small but bright—nestled on the corner of a busy street, with wide windows that let in streams of sunlight and a glowing “Open” sign that flickered with a comforting buzz. She pushed the door open and was immediately hit by the smell of fresh-brewed coffee, sizzling bacon, and syrup-drenched pancakes.
“Hey, Sam!” called Sarah, the hostess who’d interviewed her last week. “Right on time.”
Sam glanced at her watch. Five minutes late, actually. But she smiled anyway. “Morning.”
As Sarah showed her around, Sam took in every detail: the cozy vinyl booths, the polished counter with red leather stools, the clatter of plates from the kitchen, and the slight stickiness of the floor that only old diners seemed to have. It was noisy, a little chaotic, and completely alive.
Just like she remembered.
She nodded through Sarah’s instructions, already knowing most of it from past jobs. But she played along, asking the right questions, laughing at the right moments.
When Sarah handed her an apron, Sam stepped into the tiny staff room, took a deep breath, and tied the strings behind her back.
You’ve got this.
She pasted on her best customer-service smile and stepped back into the fray. The first rush came quickly, and she handled it like second nature—orders taken with practiced grace, coffees poured, refills offered before customers even asked. The chaos helped. It kept her from thinking too much about the near accident, or about the weight of responsibility sitting quietly at the back of her mind.
Her boss, a short, round man with a booming laugh, gave her a wink as she brought two milkshakes to a pair of teenagers. “Not bad for a first day.”
She smiled, grateful he hadn’t mentioned her being late.
As the minutes ticked by, Sam counted her tips and felt her eyebrows shoot up. It was more than she’d expected in the first stretch of her shift—more than she’d earned on most first days in the past. The customers had been generous. Friendly. She was starting to believe maybe, just maybe, she could make this work.
Then he walked in.
Tall. Dark-haired. Handsome.
He sat down at the far booth with a friend, but from the moment he entered, Sam could feel the air shift. Something subtle. Electric.
She walked over, pad in hand. “Welcome to Wick’s Diner, gentlemen. What can I get you?”
The friend rattled off an order. The other man just stared.
His eyes—hazel, maybe green—were locked on hers, unblinking. For a moment, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.
Then he blinked, shook his head slightly, and said, “I’ll have what he ordered .”
She delivered their food quickly and moved on, but his gaze kept finding her.
Unnerving. Yet... kind of thrilling.
Each time she glanced over, she found him watching her—just for a moment, then looking away. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Her heart beat a little faster.
No. Don’t. She shook her head, forcing herself to refocus. You’re not here for sparks and stares. You’re here for James.
The thought grounded her. 
James—her eighteen year old brother, her responsibility. He had fallen in love with archery before he could even spell it, and their parents had given him everything he needed to pursue it. But when the accident happened—when their lives changed—everything became Sam’s.
She remembered how he used to run outside with his bow the second he got home from school. How he’d stay out for hours, practicing his aim until the sun dipped behind the trees. How his face would light up when he hit the bullseye. 
Their parents had believed in his dream. And now, so did she. Even if it meant early mornings and sore feet and pushing aside the sparks from mysterious strangers. 
Because James’s dream was the only thing keeping her steady. It gave her purpose. A goal. A reason to keep moving forward.
As she refilled a customer’s coffee cup, Sam smiled to herself.
This job. These tips. This place.
Maybe—just maybe—it would be enough.