My cheeks flush, “No. They’re just in love with novelty.”
“Whatever you say. You were amassing a fan club.”
We turn away from the school and walk about five minutes before we hit Main Street, heading back to where we met up this morning and parked our cars. Amy’s is right next to mine, and I’m trying to figure out how to ask if she booked a room at the lodge this time.
But I don’t get the chance, because someone is calling our names.
“Finally,” Brendon wheezes, stopping and putting his hands on his knees. “Geez, you guys are fast walkers.”
“Is something wrong with the oven?” I ask.
“No—no,” Brendon says, raising his hands and shaking his head, his shaggy black hair fanning out like the skirt of a dress when he does. “The opposite, actually. Can you come to the bakery for a minute?”
When we walk through the front door of the bakery, it smells like the croissants did—buttery, garlicky, the scent of oregano hovering above it all.
“Hey! Evan!” Gramps is the first to greet me, and I’m actually shocked to see him out with his cane. Normally, he fights tooth and nail not to use that thing, but clearly whomever fetched him and brought him over didn’t want to hear it.
There’s a chorus of hellos from others: Beverly is here with some of the ski workers, and Leticia Gates is sitting next to Gramps at the big table in the middle.
“Smells good,” Amy says, sliding her purse from her arm and quickly sitting down, looking up at me, waiting for me to join her.
As much as I want to leave, to get her back to the cabin, I can’t ignore how happy she looks to be here, so I sit down.
“To Evan!” Brendon says, raising a Dr. Pepper. “For a great oven, and for giving us all something to order when we’re too tired to cook.”
The irony isn’t lost on me because Brendon is the one who’ll be making the pizzas, but everyone raises their cans and cups, toasting right along with him.
And, somehow, the whole thing doesn’t feel as nightmarish as I might have thought.
“Thanks, everyone,” I mutter, and when Amy’s hand slides over to my thigh under the table, I realize I haven’t been this happy in town in a long, long time.
CHAPTER 18
AMY
“You’ll stay withmefrom now on, right?” Evan asks, shrugging off his jacket and turning to me the moment we walk through the threshold of his cabin.
Blue is sleeping on the couch and barely raises her head to look at us before settling back into her spot, comfortable and relaxed. It hits me that I’m common enough around here for her to not consider it a big deal when I walk in with Evan.
I’ve watched her bark at squirrels running along the banister, protecting her home. But I’m welcome here.
I turn to Evan after kicking off my boots, and he slides his hands along my shoulders, pushing my coat off and taking it to hang it up beside his. The sight of that does something to me.
After all the good food and the frankly intoxicating atmosphere of the bakery-turned-pizza-place, I already feel bubbly, jazzed up—without having a single drink of alcohol. We drank soda and played games, ate pizza and laughed together.
From the locals, I learned more about Evan. I knew that he’d been in the military, but his gramps talked about him joining theMarine Corps right out of high school as a surprise to all of them. He’d always loved reading, and they thought he’d go to college.
In response to that, Evan just shrugged, burying himself in a bite of pizza.
I want to ask him about it. I want to ask him abouteverything. About his growing up here, about his time in the Marine Corps, about what turned him from the boy around town to the man who hardly ever comes to town. It’s obvious that they’re missing him around here and want him around more. Especially Gramps.
But Evan looks pained every time it’s brought up, every time I insist we go somewhere for him to get in good with the council people—despite the fact that he ends up enjoying himself. Like he did at the renovation site, with the pizza oven, and today, talking to those high schoolers.
And I didn’t miss the way Kendra Prentice looked at him. Like she was seeing something shiny and new under the same old exterior.
More than that, I didn’t miss my own reaction—a sort of protective possessiveness. I wanted to step in front of him like a body shield and glare at her, tell her to stay away. ThatI’dfound him, and he was mine.
Startlingly juvenile. Maybe it was being in the high school that brought it out of me.
