Chance
By Sunday evening,the world had shrunk to the bakery, the oven, and me.
Sweet Dragon was silent, except for the ticking wall clock and whatever mix of cinnamon and yeast had glued itself into the walls. I had the routine down to muscle memory. Strip the racks, sweep the flour, box yesterday's loaves for the food pantry. Every motion was supposed to be boring, but tonight, every second crawled by.
Because in the back pocket of my jeans, my phone waited. My whole body was primed for that little sound, like a dog with a single neuron dedicated to "text alert." Waiting to hear from Tash wasn't just nerves, it was like waiting for the ground to start shaking after you see the lightning hit.
I'd just sent a text to Tash, replying to her, offering a meeting Monday evening.
I yanked the last rye out of the oven, flipped it onto the cooling rack, and savored the scent for maybe half a breath before my phone went off again.
My hands jerked. I wiped them on my apron and checked the screen.
The message was simple.
Tuesday evening okay instead? Monday is town hall about SkyArc, I'm speaking. LMK?
My heart kicked so hard I nearly dropped the phone.
Caden went absolutely feral inside me. He punched a victory lap through my ribcage, singing some song about hatchlings, mate, now, over and over, louder than the oven fan.
I didn't even try to play it cool. I thumbed the call button so fast it nearly slipped from my grip.
Tash answered on the second ring. "Hey," she started, but her voice was tight, brittle with nerves.
"Hey! Sorry. Didn't mean to, uh, bother you. It's just, uh, good to hear from you." I was already off-balance, every word tumbling out half-formed.
She let out a little laugh, caught betweenawkward and relieved. "No, it's fine. I didn't want to bug you while you were working." God, the sound of her laugh. It slid under my ribs before I could brace for it.
"Not a bug at all. I was, honestly, you saved me from counting Danishes." I wiped a hand over my neck, fighting the urge to pace. "Tuesday's perfect. Six work for you?"
Her exhale was pure nerves. "Yeah, I mean, yes. It gives the girls time to, you know, brace."
I pictured her then. Probably standing in her kitchen, jaw set, phone gripped like a lifeline. The sound of her voice, turned inside-out with nerves, made my skin itch.
For a breath, neither of us could land the next sentence.
Caden growled.Fix it. Say something real.
"So the town hall thing," I fumbled for words. "You're speaking? About SkyArc?"
"That's the plan. Mostly water quality, but," She hesitated, then dropped her voice, "I hear higher-ups from SkyArc will be there in person. I kind of want to see who I'm up against."
Before I could answer, there was a muffled shout somewhere in the bakery. It came from the front, loadedwith hellfire.
I recognized it immediately. Maeve.
The door banged so hard the display jars rattled. "Chance!" Her voice shook the ceiling tile. "You need to get out here, rightnow!"
Tash heard. "Everything okay?"
"I'll call you back," I said with no hesitation. "Sorry, just, something at the shop. I'll text you the address for Tuesday. Promise."
I stabbed "end call" with my thumb and tossed the phone onto the prep counter.
Maeve barreled into the kitchen like she'd just lost a fight with a tornado. She was red-faced, apron askew, and she pointed out the window with a trembling hand. "They're ruining it! Those bastards are wrecking my whole border! And ignoring me! Get out there and stop that meathead, right now!"
Her hair was half out of its bun, and her hands shook. Whether from rage or adrenaline, I couldn't tell. The wild look in her eyes meant this was not minor. This was Defcon One.
