“Thanks,” he replied and placed it on the counter by the register. He didn’t soften, but he offered a slight smile.
“Do you have the Monroe order?” I asked.
“Packed and tied,” he said, nodding at a white box with twine.
I nodded, hating how awkward things felt between us. Not that I expected anything different. I left without goodbye. He had a right to be angry. Here I was, eight years later. I couldn’t act like we didn’t have a past. Not when I tried so hard to forget it and never could.
A bell over the door rang. I recognized Noah Tremblay the moment he entered the bakeshop, except he looked like an older more mature version of the guy I remembered.
“Harmony Bellerose, you’re back in town.” He smiled.
“I am.”
“Here to stay? Or short visit?” he asked.
“Here to stay,” I answered, giving Eric a side glance. Noah was a bit flirty and a part of me wanted Eric to react, even if I had no right.
“Welcome home.” He grinned. “I’m working with the Laurentian Community Trust. We’re coordinatingfestival securityand Main Street’s camera coverage. I’m confirming placements and schedules this week.”
“Nice, Sandy mentioned you’d be stopping by Petals and Pines,” I replied.
“Yup, laterthis afternoon to review your door hours so we’re not blocking deliveries. Ten minutes, tops.”
“That’s fine,” I agreed. “We’re open nine to six.”
“Perfect,” he said, and left as quickly as he came.
The room felt calmer when the door shut.
“Thanks for the plant,”Ericsaid, almost as an afterthought.
“You’re welcome,” I replied awkwardly.
I reached for the Monroe bouquet. He reached for the handle at the same time. We both paused.
“I can carry it,” I offered.
“I know.” He slid the pastry box off the counter instead. “I’ll take the sweets.”
We walked out together. Halfway across Main Street his radio crackled, “All units, Carignan brush fire is contained. Volunteers stand by.”
He thumbed the transmit button. “Thorne, copy.”
“Copy that,” the dispatcher replied.
He clipped the radio back onto his belt. His posture shifted slightly, like something inside him had just checked a box and moved on.
“You still volunteer?” I asked.
“Yes. When I can.”
I wanted to ask if he wished he were there instead of here, but I already knew the answer. I also knew he had built a life around doing what needed to be done, not what he wanted. He had always been like that.
We delivered the sweets and flowers to the Monroes. They were so happy it made my throat tight for reasons that were not about flowers or sugar. On the way back, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It showed an unknown number. I let it go to missed call. It rang again immediately. I answered.
Static came first. ThenOlivier’svoice. “Ten tonight.Old Mill Road.”
“No,” I said. “Stop calling me from numbers I can’t block and start acting like my brother and not some crazy person.”
