I repeated it all in my head, over and over, until my confidence returned and with it, my spirit. I went back inside and took over coffee duties and allowed the other two to help me, at least until I ran out of cake and I could manage on my own.
But even when I got home later that day I couldn’t rest. I had to keep working. Work never stopped for a baker. Work never stopped for me.
So I stood in my small kitchen all evening and kneaded, beat, whisked and piped until I couldn’t anymore.
That night I slept like a baby. No dreams, no nightmares. Just pure, uninterrupted rest. And I returned to the truck the next morning with nothing but a zest for life.
Mayberry Holm had been so kind to me after all. There was nothing to worry about?—
I stopped.
The boxes in my hands slipped, crashing onto the boardwalk with a thud. My knees gave up seconds later.
“G-gone,” I mumbled, staring at my dream in front of me. “It’s…gone.”
The gorgeous cozy food truck I’d left the day before was no more.
All that stood in its stead were melted steel walls, broken glass and ashes surrounded by trucks and uniformed people. A perfectly coordinated chaos.
Smoke billowed from what had once been the Wandering Bundt up into the sky turning a red and blue sunrise into a gray morning.
“Victor,” I whispered.
Because it was him. I knew it was him. It hadn’t been my imagination. It hadn’t been an illusion.
He was here. He was on the island. And he had destroyed my truck, my livelihood, like he’d destroyed me all those years ago.
THREE
DARE
Iclosed the boxes, and before I put them in a bag, I grabbed the black marker pen and scribbled on them both.
Property of Zachary Hensley, it read when I was done.
“There. Now he has an excuse not to sell them,” I told Lookah, and he pressed the bottom part of his head against my leg, bunching up his ears and begging to be petted.
I wasn’t a monster, so of course I scratched behind his ears and patted his ass before making my way out to the truck, yawning.
It had been a long day already and it was barely even ten, which was exactly why I needed a dose of Zach’s pumpkin spice latte and a heavy dose of his smile to get me through the rest of the day. Plus, I couldn’t help but wonder what goodies he’d be selling today.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him yesterday. The way he was dressed. The way he’d looked at me. The joy on his face when I gave him my pies. He’d never looked more adorable. Although, that was what I thought every time. At this point I hadto accept I had a major crush on him and instead of fading with time it was only getting stronger.
Nevertheless, it would have to stay a crush. Even if it pained me to leave him behind every time. Even if I would have loved nothing more than to wake up next to him every morning.
That was how it—heartbreak—started. It was a cruel mistress, and I wasn’t going to let it lure me back in its embrace again. Never again.
I parked at my usual spot at the end of the waterfront but even before I applied the parking brake I could sense something was wrong. It was in the way people walked around, the way they whispered to each other and the way they shook their heads.
I jumped out, my heart leaping out of my chest and that was when I smelled it. The distinct acrid smell of burned rubber.
I ran. I didn’t know why but I ran so fast I didn’t even bother locking the car. My chest felt heavier and heavier the further along I got until it threatened to make me collapse before I reached my destination.
And there it was. Zach’s truck. The Wandering Bundt. Or what was left of it. There was yellow tape all around it. Two firefighters and a man in a suit stood in front of it, staring at a clipboard as if there wasn’t an entire mess right behind them.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, my voice a barely comprehensible grumble.
All three men looked up at me and pressed their lips together. One firefighter put his hand up to stop me, as if I was trying to go past the yellow tape.
