But I can still taste honey on the wind, and it won’t let me forget.
Most days, when my shift ends, I try to rinse the ocean off in the public showers behind the gym and keep my head clear on the walk home. But today, the beach clings to me with sand in my shoes and salt crusted in my hair. Then there’s the deep honey scent that lingers even still.
The gulls scream overhead and the wind’s picking up, whipping the canvas awnings along Main, but I barely notice. My feet steer me through the back alleys without thinking. I need something warm to fill the space Helena left behind.
The pasty shop is still open, even though it’s after seven. The windows glow against the twilight and the neon “Cornwall’s Best” sign buzzes comfort into the street. Inside, the air is heavy with yeasted dough, browned butter, and cinnamon sugar. Surely, a scent that could anchor a ship in a hurricane.
Helena is the hurricane. Within a few minutes, it’s like everything’s changed from her presence.
My best friend, Cole, is at the counter rolling out dough for the morning batch. Flour dusts his cheeks. His short, sand-colored hair is held back by a red bandana that matches his red shirt touting a “Make Pasties, Not War” message.
He doesn’t look up until I’m inside. “You’re late. I was about to close up and start drinking without you.”
“You’d never.” I lean against the counter, letting the bakery warmth leach into my arms. There’s a strip of leftover pie crust. I smile and pop it in my mouth.
Cole’s brown eyes flick up. He knows me better than most, and it takes him maybe two seconds to sense the tightness in my shoulders.
“Bad shift?” He shakes his hands free of flour. “Or did you get yelled at again for not wearing your hat?”
“Yes, and worse.” I take a breath. “I pulled a swimmer out today. Rip current at the east end.”
Cole’s face stays open and soft, but he pauses. “Kid or adult?”
“Adult.” I hesitate, then add, “An omega woman, actually. Never seen her before. She was…”
I trail off because what am I supposed to say? That I nearly blacked out from the force of her scent? That my head is still buzzing, like I’m stuck in the undertow and can’t touch bottom?
“‘Hot’?” Cole prompts, teasing. “Also doing fine now, I imagine?”
“Incredible,” I admit, and it hurts a little to put the word to what I’m feeling.
Cole hums. “And you gave her mouth-to-mouth and she fell madly in love, right? She’s waiting outside with a boombox?”
I laugh, mostly at myself. “Didn’t need mouth-to-mouth. She was fine. Walked off with her boyfriend. Or alpha. Not sure.”
“‘Alpha’?” Cole echoes.
I shrug. “I don’t know for sure. Tall and scary, though. Fits the alpha bill. I didn’t get a good read, but I think he’d break my legs if I got too close.”
Cole shakes his head, rolling the dough again. “Let me guess: she thanked you, said she was fine, and left, right?”
I nod, trying not to look too pathetic. “Pretty much. I guess what matters most is she walked away at all.”
Cole tears off a strip of cinnamon roll for himself and leans over, chin on fist. “You get her name?”
“Helena,” I say.
Cole whistles. “That’s a noble name, isn’t it? Sounds like old money.”
“Probably,” I admit. “She had that vibe. Like she’s never had to butter her own toast.”
Cole grins. “And you’re hooked.” It’s not a question.
I glance away, too embarrassed to deny it. “I keep thinking I’ll run into her again, but she’s probably just visiting. Only tourists misread the water here and go out far enough to get caught in a riptide.”
“Maybe she’ll want a tour guide. Or another near-death experience,” Cole offers, smiling like a golden retriever with a new toy. “Just make sure you don’t get between her and her alpha again. Unless you want to get pummeled.”
Something in my chest coils tight. “That’s just the thing, Cole.I’mher alpha.”
