I glare at her. She grins.
The apprentices will never know this, but Gwen has been the secret backbone of this entire thing. Not the foundation. Not the co-op paperwork. Not the lawyers. Gwen.
She’s the reason I ate when my stomach was too tight to handle food. She’s the reason I slept more than three hours at a time the week the press got feral. She’s the reason I didn’t set Rex Chen on fire with my own hands, which I feel deserves a plaque.
And somehow, against all odds, she’s also the reason Leo is still here.
Not because she likes him. Gwen doesn’t “like” people. Gwen tolerates you until you earn a spot, and then she will stab someone for you with a bread knife.
Leo earned a spot. He earned it the hard way. By not arguing when I told him he wasn’t allowed back in the bakery at first. By not hovering. By not “checking in.” By not sending a thousand texts. By letting me decide, every time, what the boundary was, and then treating that boundary like it was sacred.
He earned it by showing up at the Saturday pop-up and standing there like he would rather die than take one step too close without permission.
He earned it by doing what he said he would do and by listening without grabbing the wheel.
And then, when I finally let him back in, carefully, slowly, like letting a wild animal back into your house, he didn’t act like he’d won.
He acted like he’d been trusted. And he treated that trust like it was fragile glass. Which, God help me, is exactly what it was.
By noon, the first training session is done, and everyone is sweaty, flour-dusted, and vibrating with the weird joy that comes from learning something with your hands and realizing you might actually be good at it.
Pilar stays behind, carefully cleaning her station.
“Good work today,” I tell her, leaning on the counter.
She nods once, serious. “My mom’s going to freak out.”
“In a good way?”
Pilar’s mouth twitches. “In a… loud way.”
“Good,” I say. “Tell her we accept loud.”
Dean tosses his apron over his shoulder and points at Leo.
“Yo, Mr. Ashford, you got TikTok?” he asks.
Leo blinks. “I… uh.”
Maya rolls her eyes. “He’s ninety inside.”
“I’m thirty-one,” Leo protests.
“Mentally ninety,” Dean confirms.
Leo looks genuinely wounded. “That’s not true.”
Gwen strolls by and claps him on the shoulder. “It’s true.”
Leo turns to me like,please defend me.
I shrug. “You did call a baguette a ‘bread stick’ on day three.”
“That was one time,” he says.
“It was a rough time,” I reply.
He sighs like he’s accepted his fate as the group’s chew toy. It’s weirdly endearing to watch him get roasted by teenagers and take it like a man.
