Then Jillie appears between us wearing approximately seventeen stickers she somehow convinced customers to give her.
“Mommy,” she announces, “Colby says goalies are weird.”
Across the bakery, an older man wearing a Blizzards hat shouts: “HE’S RIGHT.”
Colby looks entirely unapologetic.
I shake my head slowly. “You fit in here way too easily.”
His eyes meet mine. And for one terrible second, neither of us looks away.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
He does. That’s the problem. By closing time, my emotions are officially exhausted.
The bakery empties slowly. Snow falls heavier outside. Main Street glows gold beneath winter lights. Jillie yawns dramatically from her stool near the register. Colby helps stack chairs without asking.
Again.
“This was weird,” I tell him honestly.
“One of the stranger weeks of my life.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“That feels medically concerning.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. His expression changes immediately at the sound.
Softens. Notices. And again…dangerous. Everything about this man is dangerous. Not because he’s famous. Not because he’s attractive. Because he keeps quietly behaving like someone safe.
And I no longer remember how to protect myself from that kind of person.
Colby pulls on his coat near the door. Snow swirls hard outside now.
“See you tomorrow,” Jillie says automatically.
The words hit me instantly.
Too familiar.
Too hopeful.
I tense.
Colby notices immediately.
Something unreadable flickers through his face.
Then he crouches in front of Jillie carefully. “Only if your mom says it’s okay.”
Not:Of course.
Not:Definitely.
Careful. Respectful. Like he understands exactly why I’m scared.
Jillie looks at me hopefully. And against every instinct screaming in my chest…
