“Great,I’ll see you all tomorrow then,” I said, backing toward the door with my heart still fluttering from the high of getting hired.
Beau nodded once. “There’s a decent inn in town. The Rusty Lantern, just off Main. It’s quiet.”
I hesitated, shifting my backpack higher on my shoulder. “I, uh… don’t have a place to stay yet.”
That made him pause. His brow furrowed, and his voice lost some of its usual steadiness. “No place at all?”
I shook my head and tried to smile like it wasn’t a big deal. “The bus station’s got benches.”
Just one twitch of his mouth, almost imperceptible, but it said more than words. That didn’t sit right with him. At all.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced up the staircase tucked near the bakery’s rear hallway.
“Second floor’s unfinished,” he said finally, nodding in that direction. “But there’s a bed. It’s clean. You can stay up there… for now, at least.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Really.”
He didn’t say it like he was doing me a favor. He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I followed him up the narrow wooden steps, the air smelling faintly of flour and sawdust. My heart thudded against my ribs with every creak of the floorboards beneath us.
The door at the top groaned when he pushed it open. The space wasn’t meant to be lived in. Not yet.
Half-painted walls, still wet in some places. A plastic tarp hung loosely over one window, billowing a little with the night breeze.
Boxes of tools sat scattered around the corners. On a folding table near the far wall, I spotted scattered blueprints, notes, and swatches of paint. Plans. Dreams.
This was meant to be something else. Something important.
There was a twin-sized bed, neatly made with fresh linens and a folded blanket, pushed against the wall. It was simple. Temporary. But he was offering it to me. Without question. Without strings.
“You were going to turn this into your office,” I murmured, taking in the makeshift desk and coffee ring-stained blueprints.
Beau leaned a shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed. “Eventually. Haven’t had time.”
Too busy running a bakery, trying to breathe life into an old building, I thought.
I turned back to him. “You don’t have to let me stay.”
He looked at me then, really looked. No judgment. Just quiet honesty in his eyes.
“I want to.” His voice was low, a little rough like gravel and warm like cinnamon. “And you look like you could use a soft bed more than I need a desk right now.”
The words landed in my chest like a stone in still water, rippling something deep inside me. Kindness. Trust. I didn’t know what to do with that anymore.
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you.”
Beau gave me a rare smile. Small. Almost shy. The kind of smile you could miss if you blinked too fast. “Get some rest. You’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
The door clicked softly shut behind him, leaving me alone in the quiet space.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the makeshift room, at the moonlight spilling across the tarp-covered window and the dust motes swirling in the air.
It wasn’t perfect. Not even close, but it was shelter. A chance. A beginning.
I dropped my bag to the floor, toed off my shoes, and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress creaked beneath me, but it didn’t matter.
