“Hold on, man.” He followed me, standing to his full height in front of me. Had he always been that tall? “I didn’t mean anything by it, you know that.”
This conversation was turning dangerous. I needed to leave. I knew that, yet my feet hadn’t taken me away. “Whatever.” I forced them to turn, my body following suit.
Crescent’s hand on my shoulder startled me more than it should’ve. I jumped forward, twisting on my heel once more. “You’re bleeding.”
I stared at him, eyes wide and searching. My palm absentmindedly reached to the back of my head, causing me to suck in a pained breath as I skimmed the wound there. Nothing but dried blood covered the area, making it feel bumpy and slightly sticky. “Don’t worry about it. I’m good.”
“How can I not? I—” He sighed before stepping forward, inching closer into my space. “Where are you headed?”
Shrugging, I pointed back at the way I’d come from. “Home, I guess.”
“Okay, where’s home? Let me take you there.”
Crescent Miller, always the caring one. He hadn’t changed one bit, always offering to help even when it could backfire on him. “I’ll walk.”
I started to go, started to walk away from him, but I felt his presence. He trailed behind me, keeping up with my pace effortlessly. “At least let me look at that cut on your head. Help you clean it up or something.”
“No.”
“But—”
I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut. Streaks of white and red dotted around in my vision. Laughter sang to me in waves, reminding me of happier days in the school cafeteria, joking without a care in the world. When I opened my eyes again, I watched Crescent’s long, dark hair brush over his shoulders, caught by the swift breeze. Ringlets of curls bounced against his chest, a mesmerizing movement that carried hundreds of happy, carefree memories.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I stood straight and tall, praying I played confidence off well. “I said no, Cres. Get back in your car and go wherever you’re going. Let me go.”
The yellow-orange of his car’s hazard lights framed the side of his jaw. I could see it clench and release, his jaw clenching as it worked over his molars. “I don’t wanna let you go, Elio. I never did.”
“You have to.” It was barely a whisper, the wind louder than my voice. He heard it, though. He’d done it before; surely he could do it again.
At least, that’s what I told myself on my walk home. To prison. To a cell I’d never escape. The only thing tonight accomplished was giving me a cruel taste of something I couldn’t have, and that pissed me off more than anything else in the world.
When I reached the front door, I was shivering and exhausted. The porch light was left on, and there were droplets of blood trailing across the wood. My blood. A stain I’d scrubbed a hundred times before. The silver doorknob mocked me, laughing at my misfortune. It spoke in tongues, shouting a language I couldn’t possibly understand, but I knew the tone all the same. I wrapped my hand around it and tried to turn it.
The knob didn’t move. I’d been locked out again. In the cold. Like a fucking dog chained to a pole, unable to move, unable to run, unable to find solace in the only home it’d known. It was a fair comparison, seeing as I whimpered like one, according to how Jude usually treated me.
I sank against the front door, my back scratching against it. My shirt rose, exposing my bruises to the night sky. There was no reason to cry, or feel sorrow. I’d gotten myself into this mess. I just had no idea if I could ever make it out.
Seeing Crescent had thrown me. Years of friendship warped with the idea of love and control. Us falling apart was all my fault. That didn’t stop me from wondering if, had I listened to him, maybe we wouldn’t be strangers.
A violent shiver chilled my entire body, as the wind picked up, stealing my breath. I’d somehow forgotten how to do it for a second—how to breathe. I’d forgotten how to follow one of the most basic human functions, my lungs squeezing oxygen from my blood to survive as a trail of fire followed up from my diaphragm and into my throat. I gasped, shivering through the chill before panting to even my breaths. As my head lolled against the door, I thought about him. About Crescent and why he was in town. Why he was on that bridge at the exact time I’d been there. Why he’d thought I was about to jump. I couldn’t make sense of it, but maybe that was the possible concussion talking.
Tomorrow, I’d force myself to forget all of this. If I madeit through the night, I’d do better for Jude. If the world decided to punish me with one more day, I’d do everything possible to not set him off. If I did that, maybe I’d finally figure out what freedom is like.
A bird no longer trapped in a cage, flying free and one with the sky, my wings extended, my muscles no longer aching from binding them to my back. I’d grow my wings, and I’d fuckingsoarwith the sun.
Chapter Two
The sun had barely risenby the time I got to Love ’n Sugar. The trees lit up with color, rays of light breaking through the leaves. I didn’t love waking up before the ass crack of dawn, but I did love my job.
A persistent ache rested at the base of my spine. It’d been two days since I found Elio on the bridge. I had no idea he’d even moved here, much less that I’d see him on a night like that. I’ve lived here for just over a year, and we hadn’t crossed paths yet.
My thoughts were louder than the raging sweat I was working up, rolling dough and measuring ingredients for batter. It was always hotter than hell in the kitchen, but nothing mattered if I was baking. Using my hands to manipulate things into the perfect shapes, watching them go from liquid or measly lumps of ingredients to something beautiful and delicious was as close to therapeutic as therapy.Marsha, the owner, had taken a chance on me, hiring me, teaching and training me to be the best baker I could be. I’d never be able to show her how grateful I was.
Our days were hectic at best, complete chaos at worst. Love ’n Sugar was popular in town. In a small place like Lindenburgh, it wasn’t hard to achieve popularity, but we had people from forty to fifty minutes away coming to buy muffins and cupcakes. They were all handcrafted with love and a dash of sugar to sweeten them up.
“Crescent, bud. It’s ten.”
I stilled for a moment, risking a glance up. Seeing James in front of me, his face splattered with flour and various colors of icing, I let my shoulders slump with relief. It was really him. Glancing at the clock above him on the wall, I nodded. I’d been so caught up in the moment, finishing a batch of our famous banana bread, I hadn’t noticed the grumbling in my stomach.
