Page 28

Absolutely not.

And even if I were insane enough to want that, how the hell would I survive it?

My hands are shaking slightly and I grit my teeth as I delete the voicemail along with all the others he’s left me since last night. Once my inbox is clear, I go to the texts and delete the entire thread from him without reading a single one.

I have no interest in anything he has to say to me.

Setting my phone down on the table, I take a few deep breaths and allow a feeling of calm to wash through me.

I’m free.

Free to live life on my own terms, free from the obligation of having to listen to any more of that shit and free to do whatever makes me happy.

But what the hell is that?

I crumble back into my chair and sigh.

When I first moved to Baton Rouge, my dream was to open a bakery of my own one day. Hell, that’s been my dream since I was a teenager. It’s why I applied for the job here. And when Calvin wanted to semi-retire, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to learn skills that would be useful in making that dream a reality.

Is that still what I want, though?

My mind is painfully blank.

Fuck.

That scares the hell out of me.

I glance over at the kitchen, my eyes stinging with tears. I fell in love with baking for so many damn reasons. The kitchen was my safe place, a place I was in control, a place I got to strut mu stuff without shame.

In so many areas of my life, I’ve made myself small.

But not in there.

Now, though… Now baking is the thing I do just to make ends meet. I’ve lost my passion for it because all I could focus on was the bills that needed to be paid or the groceries that needed to be bought.

I look down at my hands as a single tear slips down my cheek.

The feeling of dough beneath my hands used to bring me so much happiness and peace. The hum of someone trying one of my treats made me swell with pride. The rush of experimenting, taking a tried-and-true recipe but changing it into something new was something I chased.

And I can’t remember the last time I felt that.

Is it gone forever?

I drop my hands into my lap and stare at the wood grain of the table in front of me, my mind spinning.

What do I do?

Where do I go from here?

What the hell do I even want?

God, maybe I just need to slow the hell down. I’m exhausted. My body has been through hell for the past six months and I swear, I could sleep for a week straight.

Maybe all this will be better once I finally rest.

Not that I actually have much time for that since I need to be back at the hotel for my next shift on Sunday evening.

Fuck.