And somehow, that made her want to open it more than anything.
Avery reached up with trembling fingers and unlocked the door.
Noah didn’t push it open. He let her do it.
When she finally cracked it, he was sitting there on the floor, knees bent, hands resting loosely on them. His eyes lifted to hers, warm, steady, full of something she didn’t understand yet.
He didn’t touch her. He didn’t pull her into a hug. He just said, “Hey.”
And for the first time that night, she could breathe.
The memory faded slowly, leaving her kneeling on the bakery floor, Aunt Clara’s recipe box in her lap, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.
Noah had always been like that. Quiet. Steady. Showing up without being asked. Staying without being told.
And losing that — losing him — had hurt more than she’d ever let herself admit.
The bell over the front door jingled.
Avery startled, wiping her face quickly.
Noah stepped inside. Except he wasn’t alone.
Two prospects followed him, both young, both eager, both trying too hard to look tough. One was tall and lanky with sandy hair and a nervous smile. The other was stockier, dark-haired, with a restless energy that made him shift from foot to foot.
Noah didn’t bother with greetings.
“Start with the tables,” he told the prospects. “Then the floors.”
Both nodded immediately. “Yes, sir.”
Avery blinked. “Sir?”
Noah ignored her, moving toward the front door. He pulled a small toolkit from his back pocket and knelt to inspect the lock.
Avery stood, brushing dust from her jeans. “Noah, what are you doing?”
“Replacing this,” he said without looking up. “It’s useless.”
She crossed her arms. “You can’t just…”
“Ma’am?” the sandy-haired prospect asked gently. “Where do you want these tables?”
Avery opened her mouth to answer, then froze when the other prospect called out: “Rook, you want us to move the display case too?”
The room shifted around her. Avery’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Her gaze snapped to Noah.
He went still. Completely still.
The wrench in his hand tightened. His jaw clenched. His shoulders rose, then fell in a slow, controlled breath.
Avery’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “Rook?”
Noah didn’t look at her. “Yeah, Vandal,” he told the prospect. “And keep working.”
But she wasn’t letting it go.
