Around two o’clock, the lunch rush finally slows.
I lean against the counter, exhausted.
I haven’t eaten since dawn.
Not unusual.
Bakery life basically runs on caffeine and denial.
Apparently, Colby notices everything, because twenty minutes later a paper bag quietly appears beside my elbow.
I blink. “What’s this?”
“Food.”
“I gathered that.”
“You skipped lunch.”
Heat creeps into my face instantly. “I was busy.”
“You were starving.”
“I was functioning.”
“Barely.”
I stare at him. He shrugs slightly. “You get quieter when you’re hungry.”
My brain completely short-circuits. Because who notices that after two days?
Inside the bag:
turkey sandwich
kettle chips
chocolate chip cookie from Harbor House
No cameras. No audience. No performance. Just care.
Again.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
Something shifts in his expression at my tone. Very slight.
