“Saint,” Mom called.
I paused with my hand on the knob.
Mom’s voice softened.“Make sure she is here tomorrow,” she said.“I’m not letting Christmas be ruined.”
I let out a quiet breath that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.“I’ll try.”
“You better,” Mom said.
*
Belle’s place was lit up when I pulled into her driveway.
She was awake.
I parked, shut off the truck, and sat for a second, staring at her shadow like it might turn and come running to me.
It didn’t.
I got out and walked up the sidewalk with the snow crunching under my boots.The air was cold enough to sting my lungs.
I climbed the steps and knocked.
Once.
Then again.
Nothing.
I leaned closer, voice low but steady.“Belle.It’s me.”
Silence.
I waited.
Still nothing.
I could walk away.I should.If she didn’t want to see me, forcing it wouldn’t fix anything.
But I wasn’t leaving without saying what I needed to say.
I took a breath and spoke through the door.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the words scraping my throat.“I’m not sorry I helped you.I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
I rested my forehead against the wood for a second with my eyes shut.
“I saw him,” I continued quietly.“That first day.The way he looked at you.The way you went still.And I knew you were carrying something you shouldn’t have been carrying.”
I swallowed hard.“I didn’t want you scared every time that bell rang.I didn’t want you looking over your shoulder in your own damn bakery.”
My chest ached so hard it felt like pressure.
“I should’ve come to you,” I admitted.“I should’ve told you I was going to handle it, and if you told me no, I should’ve listened.”
My throat tightened.I stared at the doorknob like I could will it to turn.
“I didn’t do it because I think you can’t handle things,” I said, my voice rough.“I did it because I care about you.Because the debt wasn’t yours.Not really.And I—” I exhaled sharply as the words caught.“I didn’t know how to stand back and watch you get punished for a man who didn’t deserve you.”
