When the sun finally rises, it doesn’t feel like a new beginning. It feels like consequences.
And for once in my life, I don’t try to outrun them.
I let them come.
Whether Tess Bennett ever lets me back into her world or not, one thing is finally, painfully clear.
I don’t get to decide what happens next.
And that has to be enough.
Chapter 21
Tess
I hang up the phone and drop it on the counter.
The sound lands like a gunshot in my chest.
I rest my forehead against the wood. It is still warm from the ovens, still smells like yeast and sugar and yesterday’s hope. The bell above the door gives one last, pathetic jangle, like it is laughing at me.
Behind me, Gwen moves. Her hand lands on my shoulder. Solid. Warm. Real.
“Tess,” she says softly. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I don’t turn around. I don’t trust myself to speak. When I finally do, the words come out thin and wrecked, like they scraped themselves raw on the way up.
“He was nice to me, G,” I whisper. “He brought me coffee. I should have known better.”
That is it.
That is the crack.
Everything I have been holding back, the rage, the betrayal, the fear, the stupid, fragile hope, shatters all at once. It is not loud. It is not dramatic. It feels structural, like a beam snapping somewhere deep inside me.
My legs stop working.
I slide down the door and hit the floor hard, the cold tile biting through my jeans. Gwen goes down with me instantly, no hesitation, her arms wrapping around me like she is anchoring me to the earth.
I bury my face in her apron and cry.
I cry for my family.
For Auntie June.
For the spreadsheet, I thought, could save us.
For the bakery that almost became something ugly.
For the man I wanted him to be.
For the man he never was.
The ovens are cold. The lights hum softly. The bakery feels hollow, like the magic leaked out through the cracks and ran into the street after him.
Then Gwen stiffens.
I feel it before I hear it, the shift in her breathing, the tension snapping tight.
