“No, I don’t want to sit.”I reply quickly as the need to be in the space overtakes me.“I want to see where I worked.”I feel like I know every inch of this place.I’m on the cusp of something coming back.
“That’s literally everywhere,” she explains.“You worked here nonstop.”
A laugh escapes me thin but real.Ledger’s hand hovers near my lower back, not touching but grounding.
Ally leads me through the bakery, narrating everything like a tour guide.“This is your station.You hated when anyone messed with your set up.You kept your measuring spoons in this drawer.You always burned the first batch of muffins because you forgot they were in.This is the fridge you threatened to kick last summer.That’s the oven you cussed out when it made a weird noise.You and I once got drunk and decided to invent a chocolate-chip-pumpkin-maple-monstrosity that made Chux cry into his shirt.”
I laugh harder.
Ledger smiles just barely and it warms me.
Then, as I walk past a tray of cooling pastries, something happens.
A spark.A flash.
A sensation.
Me, laughing.Flour on my cheek.He is leaning against the counter, teasing me about burning something.My hand swatting at him playfully.His fingers catching my wrist gently.My body coming alive.His mouth brushing my temple?—
I gasp and grab the table for support.
“Kelly?”Ally rushes toward me.
Ledger is on me faster.
He’s at my side instantly, steadying me by the waist.“What happened?Pain?”
“No,” I breathe.“I remembered something.”
Both of them go still.
“What?”Riot asks, voice rough.
“It was small.A moment.You were here.Leaning right there.”I point to a spot near the counter.“And I had flour on my face.And you kissed me.”
Heat creeps up my neck.Ledger’s eyes darken with something intense.Something raw.
“That happened,” he shares softly.
The electricity between us crackles again.He steps closer, too close, then stops himself, jaw clenching.
Ally looks between us, eyes narrowing knowingly.“I’ll give you two a minute.”
She disappears to the front.The bakery feels suddenly quieter, warmer, too full of something I can’t name.Ledger keeps a careful hand near my waist as I steady myself.“You okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper.“Better than okay.”
He searches my face.“You sure?That memory, did it hurt?”
“No.It felt good.”I swallow and tell him the truth.“Like something important.Like we had something special.”
Something shifts in his gaze a softness mixed with pain.
“You asked me earlier if we ever had real dates,” he says.“We didn’t.But we came here together after closing sometimes, before you opened other days.Sat at that table.”He points to the small round table near the window.“Drank coffee.Talked.”
“Talked about what?”I inquire.
He hesitates.“Things you cared about.Your family.The bakery.Your dreams.All kinds of things from the little to the big and everything in between.”
