Darlene rolls her eyes. “Don’t get ceremonial. I already mopped once.”
He ducks inside.
The bakery is dim, lit only by the kitchen work lights and the soft glow from the back hall. It smells like cleanser, wet boards, leftover soup, and cold sugar. The wreckage looks less dramatic in low light but more intimate. The empty space where the display case used to shine feels like a missing tooth.
Kauss sees it again and goes very still.
Darlene catches the look. “Before you start making that face, we already know it’s bad.”
“I can repair some of it,” he says.
“Can you resurrect refrigeration?”
“I can try.”
“Try hard. Cold pastries pay bills.”
I set my bag on the counter. “He’s working off the bail.”
Darlene looks from me to Kauss, then back to me. “Is he now?”
“Yes.”
Kauss says, “Until the debt is paid.”
Darlene’s mouth twitches. “Honey, with our finances, that could take years.”
I shoot her a warning look.
Kauss does not look alarmed enough.
That, more than anything, makes warmth bloom low in my chest.
Darlene grabs her coat. “I’m going upstairs to sleep in your chair because I don’t trust either of you not to brood the building into collapse.”
“I don’t brood,” I say.
“You brood with frosting.” She points at Kauss. “You, don’t break anything unless it’s already broken. You, Evie, stop looking at him like that unless you’re ready for consequences.”
My face burns. “Good night, Darlene.”
“Coward.”
She leaves through the stairwell, muttering about idiots, bail money, and late-stage romantic nonsense.
Kauss and I stand alone in the bakery.
The silence is not empty. It is full of every broken thing around us, every unspoken thing between us, and the strange warmth of knowing he is here because I asked and because he wanted to be.
“You should rest,” he says.
“So should you.”
“I heal quickly.”
“I annoy quickly. We all have gifts.”
He looks at the broken case. “Tomorrow, I will remove the damaged frame.”
