Without planning to, I ended up sharing breakfast with her. She took a short break and pulled up a chair across from me, careful not to pry, which I appreciated more than she probably knew. She talked instead, filling the space with light-heartedstories and observations. I listened, nodding, smiling when appropriate, even as my eyes occasionally drifted toward the door.
I half expected trouble to walk in at any moment.
In fifteen minutes, I learned a surprising amount about her. She was twenty-two. She had moved here three years ago with her parents after her father lost his job. They were staying with her grandparents for now. It felt only fair to share something in return, so I told her about my work, about Marie’s sudden passing, and about inheriting the bakery.
“Oh,” she said softly. “Marie.”
“You knew her?”
“Everyone did,” she said. “Her pies were some of our best sellers. People still ask for them.”
When I mentioned that I planned to sell the bakery, her smile faded. She did not argue, but something thoughtful settled over her expression.
“I guess that makes sense,” she said finally.
“Does it?”
She hesitated. “I do not know. It just feels like an ending.”
Her words lingered long after she stood and returned to work.
I left the coffeehouse in a better mood than I expected. For a brief moment, it almost felt like I could exist in this town without constantly bracing myself.
Almost.
The rest of the day was spent turning intentions into action. I went to the bank first, checking the market value of the property. The numbers were solid, reassuring, and unsettling all at once. Then I gathered contact information for several real estate agents. I deliberately skipped Redcliff Real Estate, even though everyone knew it was the best in town.
I did not need Ashton’s name anywhere near my future.
By midafternoon, I found myself driving back toward the bakery. Yesterday, I had barely been able to step inside. His presence had made sure of that. Before pulling in, I texted Eva and asked if she could meet me there.
As I parked, a familiar tightness settled in my chest.
I did not know how attached Eva was to the bakery now, or how much she depended on it since it was no longer operating. Beneath that concern was another, quieter fear. How many people were already watching. Speculating. Reporting back.
I might not be rich, but I could help Eva if she needed it. And if I sold the bakery, I planned to share the proceeds with her. She had earned that much by keeping the place alive when everyone else, including me, had walked away.
The thought steadied me.
Still, as I stepped out of the car and looked toward the bakery, I could not shake the feeling that none of my decisions would remain private for long.
Not here.
Not anymore
Chapter 6
Stepping into the bakery felt like walking straight into my childhood. It had never been just a bakery to me. It was my second home. Every familiar object, every quiet corner carried a memory I thought I had buried.
The small red table near the window had always been my favorite. I used to sit there for hours, hunched over homework, watching strangers pass by outside. That was where Ashton always found me.
I could still picture him pushing through the door, scanning the room until his eyes landed on me, that effortless smile spreading across his face. He would walk over with that confident swagger, rub the back of his head, then lean in to kiss me softly. Every time, my heart raced out of control. He stole my breath then. And painfully, I still could not deny that he did even now.
A sudden pat on my shoulder jolted me back to reality.
“Are you alright, Bailey? I’ve been calling your name,” Eva said, concern etched across her face.
I blinked, embarrassed. Lost in my thoughts again. God, this place was dangerous for me.
