My heart stutters.
Evie mutters behind me, “Uh-huh. Sure. Just wiring.”
“Evie!” My voice hits exactly the embarrassed pitch she wanted. She beams.
Hayes pretends he didn’t hear—but the tips of his ears go pink. Traitorous ears.
Rhett clears his throat. “Hayes, you want me to kill the power?”
He pauses and turns around to look at me and Evie. “There’s really nothing you’ll be able to do here today. We need to shut the power off for a bit. Why don’t you two clear out and I’ll let you know when things are back up and running?”
“I-I-I can’t! I’ve got orders that I need to work on!”
“Newsflash, Smokey, you’re not going to be able to do that here.” Evie rolls her eyes at me. “The whole place is going to have to be deep-cleaned before we can reopen or work behind the scenes.”
Hayes winces and nods. “She’s right.”
And that’s the moment it hits me. Heavy, suffocating, crawling up my throat. I will not cry. I will not cry. I am not going to cry. I can’t let my customers down. They’re all counting on me for their holiday pastry orders. Mrs. Henderson needs her almond tarts. The middle school fundraiser needs four dozen cinnamon rolls. The entire town is depending on me for their Christmas sugar fix.
The pressure settles like a weight on my sternum.
Hayes crosses the room in two seconds flat. His hands go to my shoulders, grounding me—and I swear the whole world tilts back into place.
“Hey, look at me.”
I glance up and see the compassion in his eyes. Not pity. Not frustration. Just that steady, unwavering softness he only ever uses with me. The kind that makes me feel like someone has their hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the chaos.
“I called in a favor,” he says gently. “I know my kitchen or the kitchen at the firehouse aren’t going to cut it, so I was able to book the kitchen at the community center for you.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the Trolls key ring with a single key on it.
For a second, I can’t breathe. Then, laughter bubbles in my chest. “You still have this thing?” I reach up and run my fingers over the ‘lucky’ troll with green hair. The plastic is worn smooth from years of being carried around. I gave him that keychain for good luck right before he applied to the fire academy—beforeeither of us were old enough to understand how much that little moment meant.
Hayes gives me a boyish, lopsided grin—the one I used to collect like a treasure. “Carry it with me every day. Figured you could use a little luck now, though.”
That’s so typical of Hayes. Thoughtful without being showy. Loyal without question. Still, another brick in the wall around my heart crumbles, sliding quietly to the floor between us.
“I just put a post up on social media letting everyone know we’ll be closed for repairs for a little bit,” Evie chimes in, breaking the moment with her whirlwind energy. She claps her hands once. “Round up whatever you need, Betty Crocker. Looks like I’m spending the day as your assistant baker.”
I blink, torn between gratitude and overwhelming relief. “Evie… you don’t have to?—”
“Too late,” she says, already gathering up my favorite mixing bowls and marching toward the back to grab my tote bag. “I’ve committed. I’m invested. I am one bad hairnet away from being a Food Network star.”
Hayes huffs a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching. “She’s not wrong. You two can get settled at the center while we get this mess sorted. I’ll keep you updated.”
There’s something final and reassuring in his words. It’s abundantly clear that he’s already decided he won’t let me face any of this alone.
four
. . .
Hayes
“Still haven’t told her?”Rhett asks the minute Emmy and Evie have left.
“Nothing to tell.” I shrug, not really wanting to discuss my feelings for Emmy.
“Bullshit, Hayes.” He tosses a broken piece of molding into the trash bin beside him. “We all know that you’ve had feelings for Emmy for years. I still don’t understand why the hell you don’t just tell the woman.”
