EMILY
It's heartbreaking going through the walk-in, pulling things out and shoving them in the dumpster. I donated what I could, but no one uses ten bags of pre-made pastry filling faster than it expires except a bakery. I'm losing so much money over this too, on top of the lack of salary. It's so frustrating but there's nothing I can do about it.
I've called every agency I can think of to try to get my inspections moved up so we can reopen, but it's like Langford paid off every government official from here to Wilmington just to make sure I'm on my knees bleeding.
Well, I have news for him. I won't give up even if he pays me a hundred times what this plot of land is worth. Quitting isn't something I do. The words "Give up" aren't even in my vocabulary. When I want something, I get it.
After the cooler is empty, I take time to wipe down shelves and mop the floor, then I put together boxes of dried goods that could go stale while waiting. At least Mom can use some or offer them to church families. And when I'm done and almost readyto pack up and go pick up Mercy from school, I stand at the sink washing my hands.
Life has been so stressful now for months that I don't know what to do without work. I sit at home staring at the wall, which Mom says isn't good for me. Then she insists I join her for bridge or take a walk at the park. But in reality, baking is who I am. It's what helped me form routines and habits that pulled me out of depression and kept me upright for years. Now without it, I feel like the grief I've carried over how broken my heart was by what happened eight years ago is so suffocatingly real.
I never processed a thing. I never wanted to think about it. Every time I tried I was overwhelmed by the negative emotions I felt, so I pushed them away and focused on my present and got through life. But that's no way to live. Now all I have is time on my hands and nothing to fill it except regret over poor choices and an ever-present spiral waiting to suck me in.
When someone knocks on the front door, I scrunch my eyes up and clench my jaw. The last time this happened, it was Victor Langford, coming to give me yet another "offer" which I refuse to entertain anymore. I know it's not Karen or Leah because both of them are now cleaning houses to keep up with their bills.
So I ignore it and dry my hands, stalking back toward the office to collect my things. Whoever it is will just have to go away. I don’t want to deal with anyone today, least of all Langford if it's him. But even when I've got my purse in hand and jacket draped over my arm to walk out, the knocking continues. It's like the person isn't getting the point. They probably see my car around back and insist that I open up for them.
And after getting an earful from Charity at the library the other day when I took Mercy to pick up some books for school, I justcan't seem to catch a break. I flick on the monitor that displays the security feeds and wait for it to power up, only to see Jaxon standing out front, using both hands to peer into the glass. He looks so desperate to talk to me, and it makes my chest squeeze.
I've been pushing him away so much, it's almost not fair at this point. He's tried to apologize and show up so many times, but I was too hurt. Now, after being shut down for almost ten days, maybe it's time for me to finally listen to him and cut him some slack.
Guilt needles at my conscience, so I set my purse and jacket down and stomp toward the front door, feeling tense but not ready to tear his head off anymore. I can hear him out and see what he wants to tell me without lowering my defenses to the point it makes me uncomfortable. I just have to have an emotional boundary in place.
He sees me coming and backs away from the door as I twist the deadbolt and open up. With a quick glance in both directions, I let him in, then lock up after he walks past me, standing awkwardly in the center of the dining room.
"What do you need, Jaxon?" I ask, already sensing his big emotions before he opens his mouth. That explosive temper will get him into real trouble someday, like that bar fight Leah told me about. I was ashamed I even knew him when she told me he got kicked out.
"Em, there's a lot we need to discuss, but the only thing that's really important right now is that I need to say I'm sorry I let you down. You needed me here that morning, and I didn't think about anything other than helping at that fire…" His head hangs and his boot toes the tile in front of him. It's a start, but wordsmean nothing without action, and his actions have repeatedly shown me he's not reliable.
I stand there with my arms crossed, staring at him, not knowing what to say. Of course I'm still mad. The only thing he's done since he got home was show me how unsafe he is for me. But I feel conflicted after what I did to him too. But the voice that's loudest is the heartbreak I've experienced simultaneously alongside the desperate need I have to be close to him again.
The hurt comes rushing up all at once and the words just tumble out. “You weren’t there for me again, Jaxon. I really needed you here and you didn't even pick up your phone while I was stuck dealing with all of this by myself.” My arm flops around, gesturing at the empty bakery.
He lets out a long breath and runs his fingers through his hair. “I know you think it's just an excuse, but I was trying to help with the fire at the job site…"
The reminder about the Cole and Son's fire only makes my guilt heavier. I must sound like a selfish brat to him, entitled and demanding attention for my problems when his are just as large. And he's already lost one parent. If something had happened to Roger, this whole situation would be different.
My cheeks burn with shame. I drop my gaze to the floor and ask in a smaller voice, “How’s your father doing?”
"Yeah… he's okay. Alive—drunk…" He shakes his head, and I look up into his eyes and see the sadness. "He's set to lose everything if we can't stop Langford, you know. His whole life… I know this bakery is super important to you, but you're still young. It'd be hell, but you could rebuild. Dad? Well…" Jaxon'sshoulders sink, and I hug my arms under my breasts and bite my lip.
"Yeah, that must be hard." My mind flits briefly to Victor Langford and the mental image of that man starting the fire that could bury Cole and Son's, but with Jaxon standing right in front of me, it's hard to imagine anything but my own pain. I've been so selfish, thinking only of me and my bakery, forgetting that Roger worked his whole life to build that company, and now it could be taken.
Jaxon’s whole face changes. He frowns at me as he asks, “You really thought I would just ignore you on such an important day?" His brow furrows as he takes a step closer to me. "Is that what you really think of me?"
His words carve a hole in my heart, exposing the pain of the past yet again. I speak my mind, but the voice that comes out of me is so small and fragile. “You did run out. You left without a single word, without a call, nothing. And it doesn’t matter what the reason was. I was hurt…" Of course I'm speaking of eight years ago, but everything has gotten so mixed up and blurred together, the pain of the bakery being taken from me has the hurt so fresh right now. "I just… Maybe I just need time to process this, okay?"
I turn toward the door, hoping to get him to leave, but he says, “I get it. You need space to process your pain, and I respect that. I was gone for years. Everybody in this town, including my own parents, thought I might be dead. I know exactly what that kind of silence does to people. But I’m right here now, and I’m trying to help save this bakery for you. Stop pushing me away, Em."
Tears streak down my cheek and I keep my back to him so he doesn't see them, but I freeze in place. “I don’t need your help,” I choke out, but even as I say it, an even worse pain hits me. Idon’t want to do this alone. I want his help so badly, it feels like my chest is splitting open.
Anger rises and thoughts swarm, wanting me to push him away, but he knows me better than I know myself. The times I push the hardest are the times I need people the most. He wraps his arms around me from behind and hugs me tightly against his chest.
"Stop, please… You say you don't need me, but I know you can't do this alone, and you're being so stubborn. I am not quitting on you, Emily Carter, even if you want nothing to do with me. I'm your best friend, better than Karen or Leah, because we grew up together and I know you. And right now, you need to let me help you and let me take care of you."
Then he turns me until I'm in his arms, face buried in his chest and sobbing. “I love you,” I mumble against his shirt. “I’m so mad and so hurt that I don’t even know how to trust you right now, but I want you in my life. I want Mercy to have her dad, and I don't want to be alone." It hurts so bad to know how deeply he hurt me, but life without him is more painful than life where I have to move past his failures and learn to trust again.
He holds me closer, one hand rubbing my back. After a long minute, he eases back just enough to look at me with tired eyes.
