I nod and glance toward Silas. “He said I couldn’t stop staring at you while you were making dinner.” I shrug. “He was wrong about that one. I was actually trying really hard not to look at you.”Saying it out loud, it doesn’t sound any better.“Anyway, it’s my fault this is happening.”
Silas brushes his thumb against my cheek, rough and comforting. “Angel, if this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. You’re young, sweet, and innocent. I should know better. Even now, I know that giving you up is the right thing to do. I know it’ll make things right with Adam, it’ll keep him from starting more shit, and it’ll mean me keeping my word to your parents, but I can’t do it. You’re mine, and that’s all there is to it.” He leans into my lips and kisses me hard and fast, his hand in my hair, his body pressed up against me.
I don’t pull away. I lean into it, wrapping my arms around him tightly as I breathe him in.
I know this is wrong. I know we should stop. I was full on lecturing myself about it ten minutes ago, but I can’t stop myself from feeling what I feel for Silas because it’s the most genuine thing I’ve ever felt. It’s like the universe has opinions on where I belong, drawing me toward him, holding me there in the familiar warmth of his touch. It’s reckless. It’s complicated. It’s a choice future-me will absolutely be lecturing present-me about, but there’s no pulling away.
I can’t. I won’t.
Kissing my forehead, he leans back, staring at me as though we’ve got everything figured out. “You’re a good girl, angel. Everything will work out because we’ll make it.”
In the warm light of the morning sun, I believe every word he says. I believe it, I accept it, and I never want to move. That said, I just caught sight of the time and I’m about to be late for my first day of work after my ex vandalized the place.
“I better move,” I groan, sitting up from his lap. “It’s already seven-thirty. By the time we get down the mountain, it’ll be nearly eight, and I feel bad enough given Josie’s situation.”
He nods once and stands from the chair, kissing my forehead again and again. “I’ll stop in and talk to her this afternoon, set up a time to help put the shop together. Give me five minutes to change. I’ve got the strawberry festival today and I need to look like a respectable whiskey seller.”
I smile and huff out a quiet laugh because when people look at Cash, I think his outfit is the last thing they notice. I grab an apple from the counter and bite into it, juices dripping off my chin as I watch him shrug into his shirt, tattoos disappearing beneath cotton, but the shape of his body remains. Solid, dependable, the kind of man who looks strong even when he’s tired. When he’s finished dressing, he glances over his shoulder at me, something warm flickering in his eyes. It settles low in my stomach, dangerous yet steady.
That… that’s what people notice.
*****
The emergency phone Silas gave me before he dropped me off is already pressed to my ear as I pace back and forth in front of the bakery. I have five minutes until the start of my shift, and I really need my sister to make sense of everything that’s transpired.
Of course, she’s not picking up. It could be that I’m on a burner phone like I’m a drug dealer, or Mom has her reorganizing her spice racks again. She’s been trying to earn her keep since she lost her job last month and moved back home.
I pace harder, the phone still ringing in my ear as I watch a blue bird clean herself in a puddle near a man dressed like a strawberry.
Maybe there were drugsonthis phone.
Finally, my sister answers. “Hello?”
“Adam totally ruined the bakery.”
Violet gasps. “Why are you calling me on this weird number?”
“Really? That’s what you ask me? I just told you Adam ruined the bakery.”
“What do you mean he ruined it?” The faint clatter of glass jars echoes over the line. Mom totally has her reorganizing the spices again. I make a mental note to start an intervention later.
Right now, my eyes are locked in on the mess in front of me. Black spray paint streaks across the front window, flour coating everything in uneven patches, and the bakery’s signature blue door is slashed with a thick swipe of red paint. The place is a disaster.
“It’s my fault.” I open my mouth to speak, then close it again, unsure of how to tell her what’s going on without telling her what’s going on.
“What? How is thisyourfault? I mean,” she laughs, “unless you’re fucking his dad or something.”
I stay silent. So silent that my sister catches on right away.
“Oh no!” she says playfully as the sound of glass dropping echoes. “You’re not!”
“I love him, girl. I’ve loved him for a while, and I think Adam knows.”
“Oh my God!” she squeals. “Ellie! This is so wild, and so unlike you! Mom and Dad are going to lose it!”
“No, you can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” there’s a smile in her voice, “but I’m going to be right here when you do because that’ll be some next-level entertainment.”
