She didn’t answer.
He didn’t look at her again as he walked out, but she saw the way his hand lingered on the doorframe, fingers pressing into the wood like he needed the grounding.
When the door closed behind him, Avery realized her own breath was shaking.
Avery turned toward the counter, trying to steady her breath, and that’s when she saw it — a small scrap of paper weighed down by the useless screwdriver. His handwriting was sharp, familiar, unmistakably his.
Noah — 205-569-0198.
No note. No explanation. Just his name and number, left like a tool he expected her to use.
She added it to her phone before she could think too hard about why.
She stood there for a long moment, surrounded by dust and memories and the ghost of the boy she used to know, wondering who the hell the man he’d become really was.
Chapter 5
Avery
By afternoon, Avery’s entire body ached.
Her arms throbbed from scrubbing. Her back protested every time she bent. Dust clung to her hair, her clothes, her eyelashes. She’d wiped down counters, swept floors, washed windows, and reorganized half the front room.
And still, Sweet Treats looked like a place time had forgotten.
But at least now she could see the floor. At least now the sunlight reached the back wall. At least now it felt like a bakery instead of a tomb.
She grabbed a rag and moved toward the front windows, wiping a streak through the grime. Theglass squeaked under her hand, the sound sharp in the quiet.
Avery paused, leaning her forehead briefly against the cool pane. She was tired. Bone-deep tired. The kind of tired that made her thoughts slow and her emotions too close to the surface.
Outside, the street was mostly empty. A few cars. A couple walking a dog. The wind pushing leaves across the pavement.
But then, a flicker of movement across the street.
Avery straightened, heart giving a startled jump.
A man stood near the corner, half-turned away, hood up, hands in his pockets. Not moving. Not walking. Just… there.
Watching?
She blinked hard, trying to clear the grime from the inside of the glass. When she looked again, the man was gone. The sidewalk empty.
Avery exhaled slowly.
You’re exhausted,she told herself.You’re seeing things. It’s nothing.
Still, a faint chill crawled up her spine.
She stepped back from the window, rubbing her arms. The bakery suddenly felt too quiet again. Too still. Like the walls were holding their breath.
Trying to shake it off, Avery moved toward the stack of boxes she hadn’t touched yet. She pushed a heavy one aside, coughing as a cloud of dust puffed up.
Something handwritten on the lid caught her eye.
Clara Brooks — Recipes
Her breath hitched.
