The thought must have shown on his face because Cara touched his arm lightly. Brief. Gone before anyone else noticed.
But he felt it.
21
After lunch,Tom and Wade returned to repairs. Piper resumed her cleanup narration. Reagan organized supplies with the intensity of someone planning a military campaign.
Cara disappeared into the storage room.
Gabe heard her rummaging. Then silence. Then a sound that made his chest constrict.
Crying.
Quiet. Trying to hide it.
He found her sitting on the floor amid broken shelves and spilled ingredients, holding something in both hands.
That wooden spoon. The one with the worn handle that she'd mentioned once belonged to her great aunt. Someone had tried to glue it. The pieces were carefully aligned. Still broken, but saved.
"Tom did that." Her voice was thick. "He found the pieces and tried to fix it. Spent time on a broken spoon because he knew it mattered."
Gabe crouched beside her. "It does matter."
"It's stupid." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Crying over a spoon. The bakery's destroyed. Someonewants me dead. Your brother's missing. And I'm sitting here crying about something that can't be fixed."
"Sometimes the small losses hurt more." He knew that truth too well. "Because they're tangible. You can hold them."
She looked at him then. Eyes red. Walls down in a way he'd never seen.
"I'm sorry," he said. The apology covered more than the spoon. He'd dragged her into this investigation. Brought danger to her doorstep. Failed to protect everyone he cared about.
That last thought hit him harder than it should.
Cared about.
When had that happened?
"You're going to find him." Cara's voice steadied. "David. You're going to find him, and this will be over, and you'll go back to Philadelphia knowing you did everything you could."
The words should have been comforting.
They weren't.
Because going back to Philadelphia meant leaving Haven Cove. Leaving the community that had shown up for a stranger. Leaving the bakery that smelled like hope and yeast and second chances.
Leaving her.
"What if I can't?" The admission came out raw. "The only real evidence I have is locked behind a password I can't guess. My career's about to implode. And my brother's either dead or so deep in hiding I'll never find him."
"Hey." Cara shifted. Reached out. Put her hand over his. "Your brother was careful. This wasn't a man preparing to disappear forever. This was someone making sure you'd find him."
"Then why can't I figure out the password?" Frustration sharpened his voice. "He said I'd know. Said it was somethingobvious. A question he asked, and I gave the worst answer possible. But I've tried everything."
"Then the question matters more than the answer."
He looked at her. "What?"
"David didn't leave you a riddle about content. He left you one about context." She squeezed his hand once, then let go. "What question did your brother keep asking that annoyed you? What did you two argue about?"
