This is my first fanfiction. It's slightly inspired by Nicolas Sparks' novel, "Safe Haven." I don't own the SON characters, obviously. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

I often feel alone. I know I can't say I'm really alone because my job forces me to meet different people every day. Yet, it's exactly how I feel like. Most of the time people don't notice me, I'm just a waitress like any other. I know it's exactly how I wanted it to be, the reason why I came here, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel alone. I feel this emptiness inside of me like something is missing, like something has always been missing.

This town has been good to me. I feel somewhat at home, at peace. It's been three years now since I came here. I've been working in this café since then, just washing tables, serving customers and ordering the latest addition to our menu from our chef, Ray. People come and go, they usually never look back when they leave. This place has no meaning to them, not like it does to the people living here. To us, it has everything we need.

I haven't had anyone in my life in close to three years, ever since I left my old life. My work colleagues, Katie, Susan and Ray, are all I have. Most of the time, we just chitchat about customers, the weather or the newest release at the small theaters in town. We're not really that close, we just work together, but they are like family to me. Ray owns the café, he's been great, giving me extra hours whenever he can. He always makes sure I eat, cooking me healthy meals when I'm at work. He's in his early fifties. His wife and teenage daughter were killed in a car accident a few years ago, long before I got here. I think somehow I remind him of his daughter, that's why he's been acting more like a dad than an employer.

I think I'm just here on earth to exist, I'm not really living, which is kind of depressing for a 25-year old. My weeks all look the same. When I'm done with my shift, I go home. Katie usually drives me. I rented a small house about 20 minutes from the café. It's not much but I've come to see it as home. It's my first house, the first one that really feels like my own.

So, every day I leave around 10 in the morning, walk to the café, serve customers and then go home around 9 or 10 at night. On my only day off of the week, I usually walk to town to do some groceries and laundry with the little money I have left after paying rent and bills. It's my routine, the one I've had for three years now. I can't say I didn't wish things were different. I wish I didn't have to run, that I didn't have to dye my hair or change my last name, or that I could own a drivers licence. But I have to accept the fact that I need to hide in order to be able to survive.

I'm filling up the salt and pepper shakers up front when I see Susan approach me. "Hey Ashley, when you're done with that, can you grab some napkins from the back?" she says.

I smile, nodding. Susan has been working here for 16 years. When I first started working here, she was the first person I met. She gave me some furniture she didn't need anymore, like a kitchen table, some chairs and a bed. It wasn't much but I was grateful. I arrived here with only my backpack after traveling for a couple of days. I wanted a fresh start away from everything. I didn't have any money so Susan was kind enough to help me as much as she could, while still trying to provide for herself and her two sons.

I put the salt and pepper shakers on the tables and make my way to the back of the café to grab the napkins Susan asked me. That's when I see her, sitting at table 10 next to the window. She looks different from most customers. Most of them are usually just passing by, having lunch or dinner before going back on the road. They make sure the children eat quickly so that they can make it to their destination before sunset. They all seem in a hurry. She's sitting alone, enjoying her cappuccino and reading what seems like a magazine. She doesn't seem stressed or in a hurry. It's usually not the kind of café where people go to read.

I bring the napkins to the front and make my way to her table. "Is everything alright? Can I get you anything?" I ask her, smiling.

She looks up from her magazine, her blue eyes staring into mine, "Actually, can I get a blueberry muffin? I was looking at them earlier, they look delicious," she replies nervously. I take a second to look at the magazine, it looks like a photography magazine. So, she's a photographer? I would have never guessed.

"Of course! They're very popular." I smile and leave to get her muffin. When I come back, she's looking out the window, thoughtful.

"So you're a photographer?" I ask, making small talk. She looks at me, startled.

"Huh?"

I point at the magazine, "It's a photography magazine, so I figured you must be a photographer."

She smiles. "Ah, yes. I am actually, in Chicago."

"Oh, so you're a long way from home." I reply, hoping I'm not being intrusive.

"Yeah, well, yeah…" She starts, nervously.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound intrusive. It's just that most people are usually in a hurry to eat and leave." I laugh.

She bites her bottom lip and turns to the window. "I don't know, I like it. It's quiet, peaceful."

I nod.

"Ashley! Can you get table 8?" I hear Katie ask behind me. I look at her and nod.

"Well, I'll let you go back to your magazine. Let me know if you need anything." I say and she turns to me, smiling. She thanks me softly. I make my way to table 8, wishing that I could have talked to her for a little while longer, mostly to figure out why she's here.

After attending to table 8 and to the three families who walked in at the same time, I notice that she's walking to the front, ready to pay. I stand in the back of the café, looking at her, intrigued. Her blonde hair is in a loose bun and she has what seems like a small photography bag hanging over her shoulder. She's wearing jeans, a white tank top and flip flops. It's in that moment that her beauty really strikes me. The sun is shining on her through the front window and she's laughing at some joke Katie must have made. She looks beautiful.

I don't walk to the front to thank her or to join in on what Katie is talking to her about. I just stand there watching, unable to move. I wait until she walks out of the café, knowing that I will never see her again. They all leave this place anyway, there's no reason to stay or come back. I'm here because I was running and it's the perfect place to hide. But she probably has somewhere to be, just like everybody else.