Her face goes completely pale. She stares at me, her brown eyes wide, searching mine. Like she’s looking for the man who kissed her under the mistletoe, who held her tight in bed, who vowed to protect what’s his. She doesn’t find him. The man standing here is a wall –impenetrable and cold.
“You’re… leaving?” The words are barely audible. A broken thread of sound.
“I’m taking the trade,” I confirm – trying desperately to keep my voice steady. The voice of a responsible father making a tough call.
“It’s the best thing. For Tabby. It gives her a stable environment to grow up in. No more uncertainty.” I’m repeating Paul’s points, hammering them home.
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. She just looks at me. The disbelief in her eyes is slowly hardening. The warmth that usually radiates from her is gone, replaced by a glacial stillness. When she finally speaks, her voice is low. Like the quiet before a storm surge.
“For Tabby.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement.
“Yes.” The word feels like a stone dropped into a deep well. “It’s the only responsible choice. For her future.”
A harsh, humorless sound escapes her. She pushes herself off the stool. She’s unsteady for a second, gripping the counter’s edge. Then she straightens, facing me. Her eyes, red-rimmed but dry now, burn into mine.
“Don’t youdarehide behind your daughter, Denton Blake.”
The words land like a slap. I actually take a half-step back.
“This isn’t about Tabby,” she continues, her voice gaining strength, cutting through the thick air. “This is aboutyou. Your fear. Your need to run away from anything that feels complicated. And instead of fighting, instead of trustingus… you’re running.”
Each word is a precise, devastating shot. Finding the chinks in my armor. Exposing the raw, terrified thing beneath.
“It’s not running,” I manage, but the protest sounds weak. “It’s choosing security. Stability. For Tabby?—”
“You’re terrified of getting hurt. Terrified of loving someone and maybe… maybe losing them. Like you lost Sarah.” Her voice softens on Sarah’s name, but the accusation doesn’t waver.
“So you’re sabotaging it. You’re choosing the safe path because it’s easier than being brave. Easier than believing in something true and real andgood.” She takes a step towards me, her eyes blazing.
I stare at her, at the furious, heartbroken conviction in her eyes, and I know she’s right. Every word. The trade offer… it’s just an excuse. The real reason is the icy knot of fear in my gut.The fear of loving her, of needing her, of building something beautiful and fragile only to have it ripped away.
The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. I have no words left. My throat is locked tight. All I can do is hold her gaze for one more terrible, endless second.
So I do what cowards do.
I turn.
My feet carry me towards the door. Away from the wreckage. Away from her.
I step out into the swirling snow and the cold wind hits my face, a welcome numbness after the suffocating warmth of the bakery. The city lights blur. The instability, the risk, the terrifying vulnerability… it’s behind me.
I walk towards my car, the snow crunching under my boots and the silence inside my head is deafening.
Chapter 29
Holly
As I watch Denton disappear through the door, I can’t move.
Outside, the snow falls in flat, lazy flakes against the darkening sky. Inside, the lights strung across the beams feel garish and mocking. The cheerful red and green garlands make me want to vomit.
A low whimper escapes me before I can choke it back. I press the heel of my hand hard against my mouth, biting down on the fleshy part to keep the sob trapped.
It doesn’t work and heaving gasps tear through me, doubling me over the counter. Tears, hot and scalding, spill down my cheeks.
The sound of hesitant footsteps cuts through the sounds of my grief. I don’t look up.
“Hols?” Charlie’s voice is soft, tentative. I feel the warmth of her presence beside me before her hand lands gently on my shaking back. “Hey. Hey now.”
