When had this become about her? She’d come here to escape her own thoughts, not to have them dissected by the people who knew her best.
She set down the croissant she’d been mangling and stood. “I should go. Early morning tomorrow. The surge has been making my recipes unpredictable?—”
“Running away?” Narla’s question was quiet. Knowing.
“Making responsible choices about my time.”
“Dahlia.” Avine stood too. Caught her hands. “We love you. We’re not trying to attack you. We’re trying to help.”
“I know.” The fight drained out of her. “I know you are. It’s not that I don’t want help. I don’t know how to receive it. I don’t know how to need things.”
Avine pulled her into another hug. This time, Dahlia let herself sink into it. Let herself be held.
“Figure it out,” Avine murmured against her hair. “What you want. What you need. And when you do, tell us. Let us be there for you the way you’ve been there for us.”
Dahlia nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.
She gathered her things and left, Junie’s voice following her down the hallway.
“We’re going to fix this, Dahlia! The Magnus situation and the you-not-knowing-how-to-have-feelings situation!”
Despite everything, Dahlia smiled.
The apartment wasdark when Dahlia got home.
Marzipan was waiting on the kitchen counter, eyes catching the streetlight that filtered through the windows. The judgment radiating through their bond was pointed.
You smell like emotions.
“Thanks.”
And that suit bear. His scent is still on you from three days ago. Faint, but there.Marzipan’s tail lashed.I don’t trust him.
“You don’t trust anyone.”
Not true. I trust you. When you’re not being an idiot.
Dahlia should probably be offended. Instead, she scratched behind Marzipan’s ears, the way she knew her familiar liked, even though the cat would never admit it.
“The suit bear,” she said quietly, “might be the only person standing between me and losing the bakery.”
Marzipan went still under her hand.Explain.
Dahlia explained. The boundary dispute. Magnus Ironwood’s claims. The possibility that everything her grandmother had built could be taken away by a territorial technicality.
By the time she finished, Marzipan’s fur was bristling.The mountain bear threatens our territory.
“It’s not that simple.”
It’s exactly that simple. He’s trying to take what’s ours. The suit bear had better stop him.Even if I don’t like him.
“You don’t like anyone.”
I like you.The thought came with grudging fondness.Even when you’re being an idiot about bears.
Dahlia smiled despite herself. She gathered Marzipan into her arms, ignoring the token protest, and carried the cat to her bedroom.
She should sleep. The morning would come early, as it did every day. The bakery would need her. The customers would need her. Everyone would need her.
