I made a clean, white spray-rose corsage and kept the ribbon simple. The boy paid in crumpled bills and walked out straighter than he came in. Small wins were still wins.
The afternoon went by. Students walked home. A few tourists drifted through. I cleaned buckets at the sink and watched water run cold over my hands until the noise in my head faded to something manageable. Across the street,Erichad his cap off, hair pushed back, and a crease between his brows that did not belong to baking. He corrected the teen’s tray angle again. The kid got it on the second try.Mayahandled the register with a steady smile.
I tried not to stare and failed. He had chosen to be here when his whole body wanted to be somewhere else: the firehouse, orchard, anywhere that felt like action. He kept going anyway. I had loved that about him once and resented it at the same time. It pulled him toward duty first.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number:Ten. Old Mill Road. Don’t make me ask again. —O.
I deleted it and blocked the number, even though I knew he would just find another. I told myself I was strong enough to hold my ground. Then I wondered if coming back had been a mistake. Strength feels obvious from a distance and complicated up close.
We closed at six. I locked the front door and pulled the shade.
“Sandy, I forgot to ask. Eric mentioned earlier there was a deadbolt on the back door that needed fixing.”
“It’s been done. Pierre got to it yesterday,” she said.
I frowned. “If me working for you is a problem, I’ll understand,” I said to her. “I’m sorry about Nico dropping in like that.”
She walked over to me with a kindness that almost undid me. “Sweetheart, we all deserve kindness in life. You aren’t your father’s legacy. You have a right to live your own life and my boyfriend happens to be the police director, so we’re safe.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a half hug.
“Thank you a million times,” I said to her.
“No, thank you. It’s been great having you as an employee, the customers love your work.”
That made me feel good because there was nothing like a day of honest work. That much I knew.
Sandyhandled the back door and I went up to the loft upstairs. It was small and quiet and mine. I set my bag on the chair, opened the window an inch, and let the cool air settle the room. From the balcony, the street put itself to bed. The bakery windows glowed for a few minutes longer and then went dark. I told myself being able to see the life I wanted did not mean I had to take it all at once.
Sandyhollered from the sidewalk and held up a paper bag. “Dinner,” she called. “So you do not try to live on tea.”
“Thank you.” I went downstairs and took the bag from her. I wasn’t an affectionate person, but I gave her a good hug and squeezed her a bit too strong.
She gave me a smile that said she understood and I took the paper bag from her. The soup and bread tasted better than anything I had made for myself in months. I sat at the small table by the window and allowed myself time to think. Coming home had felt brave when I typedyesto Sandy’s text. It felt less brave now that Olivier was calling, Nico was smiling, andEricwas across the street carrying a life he never asked for. Maybe I had expected the town to meet me halfway. Maybe I needed to meet myself first.
I washed the bowl, set it in the rack, and checked the locks. The quiet in the loft was simple. My heart was not. I lay down anyway and let the day go. If I was wrong about coming back, I would have to be the one to make it right. If I was strong enough, I would prove it here.
Sleep found me before the doubts did. That felt like progress.
CHAPTER 3
Eric
The house woke the way it always did, with pipes ticking, the third stair complaining, and the coffee maker programmed for a 5:00 a.m. drip. I poured a mug and ran the day in my head: first tend the orchard, then Maple Valley bakery, town bakery, then back again.
Asher came in barefoot, grabbed a banana, and reached for the sugar like it owed him money.
“You were supposed to be at the south rows at five,” I said. “In shoes this time.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “Chill, will you?”
He peeled a banana and leaned against the counter like the world would wait just for him. Asher’s won championships in cages and rings across provinces, collected trophies that sit in his room gathering dust. He was strong, fast, and disciplined when it suited him. And gone the second the road called.
I want him here. Not because I need the help, I’ve learned how to carry that weight alone, but because the orchard deserves someone who belongs to it. Because, one day, I won’t be able to do all of this, and I don’t want it handed to a stranger.
Becket stepped in from the back stoop, cold riding his jacket. He set a folder on the table. “Festival week,” he said. “Everyone wants a barricade in front of their shop.”
I slid a sheet of graph paper over with a sketch of a rectangle, small porch, path down to the creek. “I’m thinking about building. The ridge.”
