“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’m listening.”
Then I pressed the end call button.
And stared at the phone for a beat before whispering to myself, “Never again.”
The silence in my apartment became unbearable after a while. Too loud. Too still. I paced for a bit, tried cleaning the kitchen even though it was already spotless.
Then I stood at the window and stared out into the street like something might suddenly make sense if I waited long enough. It didn’t. Eventually, I gave up and left.
The air outside was sharp, and the sky above Sugarpaw Springs had turned a dull, overcast gray.
I walked back to Bear and Bun with my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets, my jaw tight, every step heavier than the last. I told myself work would help. It always did. But not today.
I kneaded dough too hard. Messed up the timing on the sourdough. Forgot to preheat the dang oven. And all the while, my thoughts kept drifting. Back to James.
James, with flour on his cheek and laughter in his eyes. James, teasing me like I wasn’t someone who had snapped bones in his past. James, defending me like I was worth something.
Like I wasn’t a danger, a mistake, a warning wrapped in a warm body. James, who knew the truth now. And hadn’t run.
I wished I could go back to that moment. His mouth on mine, his fingers twisted in my jacket like he didn’t want to let me go. The way he looked at me, soft but sure. Like he saw me and wasn’t scared.
And maybe that was what scared me the most.
I slammed a tray down harder than necessary, wincing when a corner of it caught my knuckle. A hiss escaped me, and I shook my hand out, muttering under my breath.
“Alright, you’ve beaten that dough to death. What did it ever do to you?” Beau asked.
I looked up. Beau was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, one brow raised. He wasn’t grinning. Not this time. His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp, focused.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, brushing flour off my hands.
“You’re not. You’ve been distracted since you walked in,” Beau pointed out.
I didn’t answer. Beau pushed off the counter and moved closer, voice quieter now. “You went to see James, didn’t you?”
I didn’t tell him. I hadn’t told him any of it. Not about the goon who cornered James, not about how close I came to shifting right there in the middle of the street, how close I came to losing it.
Because it wasn’t my secret to share. It was James’. And I wasn’t going to betray that trust. Still, I should’ve known I couldn’t hide anything from Beau. Not for long.
I nodded once. “Yeah. I did.”
“And?”
Instead of answering that, I said flatly, “A customer at Wolf and Whisk recognized me. From Ironfalls.”
Beau’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture tightened. “What happened?”
“He made a scene. Said I broke his brother’s arm years ago.”
“Did you?” Beau asked.
I looked away. “Yeah.”
Beau was silent for a moment, then said, “You were a different person then. We were different people.”
I snapped before I could stop myself. “I know that.”
My voice cracked through the kitchen like a whip. Leo, who was nearby, flinched and quickly found something else to do in the back. Beau didn’t flinch. He waited.
