Page 25 of Legacy

I waved at them, nodding at a few other people that I knew from town, and made my way to the bakery. Seriously, who the hell named a bakery Ashy Buns? Maybe it was just because it mirrored her soul. Ashy, like the devil’s wasteland.

I was going to have to remember that so I could tell Rune later. He would laugh.

Maybe.

I turned into the bakery, ignoring the high-pitched bell as I walked inside. There were a few people milling about, enjoying late afternoon coffees and pastries, and of course, the owner was behind the counter. She couldn’t be in the back, making a glorious pie. It galled me that this woman with such a bitter attitude could make the sweetest and most delicate pastries and pies I’d ever eaten.

Maybe she pushed out all of her sweetness and gentleness into her baked goods, and it only left her brittle edges behind.

There were a couple of people I didn’t recognize at the counter, and Fiona gave them a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she handed over their pastries after they paid.

I moved forward, heart in hand, praying that she was in a better mood than usual.

“Felicity Carter. It’s about time you showed up. I was about to sell your pies.”

“I didn’t realize that you were closing so early. Or that times were tough. I’m so sorry about that. Here, let me help you with your burden.”

Okay, maybe I was a bitch right back to her. But she started it. And the only reason I didn’t mind talking back to her was that she would never sully her baked goods by taking revenge on anybody by hurting her pies. She may spit in our faces, but she would never do so to anything she cooked. She had standards.

“Are they ready now? If you need more time, let me know. You are busy.” I looked around the mostly empty bakery. “I wouldn’t want to take too much of your time.”

“Such a snarky little Carter like usual. You’re as bad as the Ashfords.”

“Well, good to know some things haven’t changed.”

That voice sizzled down my spine, even as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Callum must have put his hand over the bell as he walked in since he hated the damn thing as much as I did. Only I couldn’t reach it, and that galled.

“Oh, Callum. I didn’t see you there. Is there anything I can get you? Something sweet on your mind?”

I barely resisted the urge to put my finger down my throat and gag. I seriously did not understand this woman. “Pies, Fiona?” I asked, doing my best to sound nonchalant and not as if the very idea of Callum behind me made me want to jump over something or jump him. Either or, at this point.

“Oh. Sure. I’ll get that for you.”

I had a feeling she only wanted me out of the way, which was fine. It wasn’t as if I was an obstacle for her. No, Fiona could do that all on her own.

“Pies for dinner tonight?” Callum asked, and I finally turned, trying to catch my breath.

Why did this man change everything for me? Why could I not just breathe? But no, he always made things difficult.

“Family dinner. You know how it is.”

He nodded, his eyes looking off into the distance. I could have kicked myself. The anniversary of Malcolm’s death had just passed, and I had no idea how to help him with that. His little brother was gone, and though it had been years, the wound still felt fresh.

There was nothing I could do other than be there for him, but it wasn’t as if he would let me be there for him. There were rules, after all.

“There you go, and I added a couple of extra cookies for your mom. Tell her hi from me.”

I raised a brow at her but didn’t say a thing. We had already paid up and would be square. Instead, I just moved past Callum, trying to once again get my bearings. It was hard to when it came to him. So damn hard.

I hadn’t realized he was following me until he touched my elbow, and I nearly dropped the pies.

“Here, let me help with that.”

“I’ve got it. I’m parked right down there, and I’m heading to my parents’ house. You don’t need to take care of me, Callum.”

I hadn’t meant for the sharp bite in my words, but then again, I couldn’t help it when it came to him. He was trying to help me. But not out of the goodness of his heart, not out of the sweetness of just being a good man. No, it was because he constantly tried to put me in the role of best friend’s little sister. Too young, too naïve. Not his.

But I could still remember that night. Then the next morning. When everything had changed. Not only had my life been rocked, but the idea that someone could want to hurt me like that boy had tried all those years ago, and then the idea that I could still remember Callum’s taste, was what echoed in my memories day in and day out.