Page 119 of Forbidden to Fall

The adrenaline and frustration from the barn dance had worn off, leaving me sitting with two irreconcilable truths I’d tried so hard to avoid: I was in love with James, and it was hurting my brother.

I missed Mia.

No one brought up the elephant in the room until Dad walked me out to my car after dessert.

“You sure about this, Sadie?” There was a deep furrow in his brow.

He didn’t have to specify what he was referring to.

“I am,” I said, holding his gaze. “I know it probably seems crazy and even heartless, but…” I blew out a breath, frustrated again at how limited I was without the truth. “James is the best man I know.”

“Excluding me,” he said.

I smiled. “That goes without saying.”

He gave me a side hug, then let out a small sigh.

“Give him a chance, Dad,” I pleaded. “For me?”

He faced me, searching my gaze for a few seconds.

Maybe that request was unfair. It was almost like asking him to put me above Ryan. But I couldn’t help thinking that if Dad gave James a chance, he’d see what I saw. And if he warmed up to James, maybe—just maybe—Ryan would reconsider.

Dad nodded. “For you.”

I went up on my toes and kissed him on the cheek.

Monday, I had the morning shift at the bakery.

I stifled a sigh as I turned on the lights. The festival had been a departure from the normal, and it was weird coming back like nothing had happened.

May’s phone, which was listed on the farm’s product packaging, had been blowing up with requests of businesses wanting to stock our goods. Upstairs in my apartment, I had a giant wad of cash I needed to take to the bank—evidence of all the people who’d been willing to pay for my creations, which was why I was hesitant to turn it over to the teller, who would transform it into digital money that felt less real.

“Yoohoo!”

I went still, my hands covered with dough. I peeked my head out of the kitchen and watched Morgan set down her purse on the counter. She wasn’t scheduled for another three hours.

She looked up and smiled at me. “How’s it going back there?”

“Good,” I said. “Just getting another batch of sticky buns going. I assume they’ve been selling out?”

“Yeah,” she said, coming over and leaning against the door jamb. “Though, we’ve had more than a few people come in asking for Sadie’s famous s’more blondies.”

I clenched my teeth and got back into the dough. “Sorry. We tried to make it clear those were separate from the bakery. Does your mom hate it?”

She gave a grimacing smile. “Oh…you know. Mom’s got a lot of pride. It’s a little confusing for her to see your success, I think, and hard when it seems like it’s coming at a cost to the bakery.

My heart sank. “I never intended to⁠—”

“I know.” She smiled and rested her hip against the counter as she watched me. “Mom’s always felt a lot of pressure as a Keller. I don’t know if you knew my Grandma Keller, but the woman was a piece of work. She cast a really long shadow, and Mom’s always been trying to live up to what she feels is expected of someone worthy of her name and position. So, when people come in here asking for your stuff, find out they can’t get it here, then leave empty-handed, it feels like failure.”

My stomach swam. Mrs. Keller had given me a job when I was an angsty little teenager high on my success from baking a batch of snickerdoodles. Wade had eaten most of them, and I’d taken that as a sign I was the next Martha Stewart.

Mrs. Keller had given me the space, time, and technique I’d needed to develop actual skill. Sure, she hadn’t taken my suggestions for the bakery, but given what Morgan was saying, it made sense. She wasn’t just protecting the Keller brand; she was protecting herself.

“But,” Morgan continued, “she’ll be retiring after Christmas.”

My eyes widened. I hadn’t realized it would be so soon.