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“And what do you call this?” She gestured to the TV.

“I haven’t used it for like, four months now. I told him I would pay him back.”

“With the money you have saved for rent?”

“I’ll pay him back when I get my next paycheck,” he answered tersely. “I’ll be able to afford rent and a new video game.”

“But god forbid you do a grocery run,” she grumbled. She needed to get out of there before she did something she’d regret. She grabbed her purse. “I’m going to be late tonight, Calvin asked me to cover the night shift.”

“Jessie, wait—” he started, reaching out for her.

She jumped from his reach and went for the door, not looking back. She wouldn’t fall for it again, the soft touches and the I’m sorrys and the It won’t happen agains. It was the same thing over and over with him, and she fell for it. Every time.

She needed to think. She slammed the door in his face and rushed to her car, praying that her boss didn’t fire her for arriving late. Again.

Cory was pissed, but not enough to give Jess another warning. “Three strikes and you’re out,” is what Cory always told his Post Road employees, and she already had one on her record after arriving thirty minutes late for a shift one blustery cold day this past October. She had no other choice, though; the electricity had been out and Charlie was already at work, so it was Jess who waited for the electrician to show up. Thankfully, Jess was currently on Cory’s good side after willingly working during the holidays a few months back—a job no other employee wanted. But what else was she going to do, stay at home alone while her boyfriend was off enjoying the family Thanksgiving dinner she was never invited to?

At this point, Jess was convinced every single Sullivan was a secretly blood-thirsty vampire. Not the kind that sparkled in the sun and had feelings like in paranormal romance books—no. Charlie’s family were of the completely soulless variety, caring about nothing but their next kill. Especially Charlie’s father.

She finished up frosting a half-sheet pan cake for a birthday party, her palms cramping from squeezing piping bags. She dropped the bag and sighed, pressing her hands into her back as she stood up straight, the relief feeling extra delicious after three hours of crouching.

“Looking good, Jess,” called Cory as he stepped behind the glass case and into the grocery store’s bakery. “You always make it look so easy.”

She shrugged. “Years of decorating ice cream cakes will do that. These are more forgiving since they don’t melt so easily. Or at all, really.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he said. “Hey, got a minute?”

Jess frowned, wondering if she should brace for that second strike. She couldn’t afford to lose the job, even though she detested it. Post Road was her off-season gig, a place to work and bring in money when Scoops was closed. But as they approached summer, she wondered if it would be foolish to give up her shifts. The double paycheck every week was going to be hard to say no to.

“Here’s the deal,” he said, hopping up on to the counter. Jess flinched, calculating the number of health codes he was violating by sitting on her work station, but she nodded and bit her tongue.

“As we both know, things aren’t doing so well in here,” he started.

Jess clenched her fists, then immediately stuck them into the pockets of her denim apron so he wouldn’t notice. This conversation always occurred in different ways, at least once a month. Cory came to her with his “I’m the store manager” bullshit and explained why utilizing her only in the bakery was bad for business, and that he’d need her stocking shelves or behind the register. She would counter with the numbers, explaining how the bakery was in fact bringing in a significant amount, and how it could be a driver for the market if they doubled their output.

But for some reason, Cory was dead set against Jess being back here, and by the looks of it, he was going to force her over to the chip aisle.

“I’ve been doing some thinking, and you know, between trying to compete with Grampy’s and now with Scoops being open…I’m thinking the bakery should take a pause,” he said, crossing his arms. “And I really could use your help elsewhere.”

She nodded, turning away so he wouldn’t see her let out a shaky breath. She wanted to scream and tell him how ridiculous he was being. This man knew so little about running a business it astounded her. Sure, she still had a lot to learn herself. But becoming friends with Calvin and learning the ropes at Scoops taught her what was important to focus on and what wasn’t. She knew pausing bakery production outright would seriously hurt this place.

“You’re going to lose business,” she said sternly. “It’s going to cost you.”

“I think it will cost me keeping it open. Seems a bit ridiculous, really,” he answered, hopping down. “Listen, Jess, I was planning on closing up this part of the market when I took over last year anyway. You’re a great baker and your cakes are impressive,” he said, gesturing to the colorful assortment of ready-to-purchase cakes in the glass display. “But being a manager means making hard decisions, and right now, this is what’s best for our team.”

He walked away without giving her a chance to respond. Fuming, she checked the clock behind her, relieved her shift was officially over. She slid the cake she finished inside the display case, then untied her apron and stuffed it in her tote. She shrugged on her coat as she stepped out the sliding glass doors, the cheap material of her jacket doing little to block out the chilly March wind whipping through the parking lot. Inside her car was also freezing, but at least it protected her from the wind as she slammed the squeaky door closed.

She turned on the ignition, music immediately blasting through her speakers. She leaned her head back and let the sounds of the screeching guitar and the rhythmic base soothe the pounding headache that had returned with a vengeance. Unclenching her fists, she pressed her hands into her lap and took three long breaths. It was something she’d picked up from a YouTube video she watched weeks ago after her desperate online search of “how to decrease stress.” The meditation guru said this very small moment of “grounding” was supposed to somehow calm you. She gave it a try, and to her surprise, it worked. Slightly. Enough to pull her out of her funk.

Jess pulled out of the parking lot, turning a corner before stopping abruptly at a red light. Someone walked across the crosswalk, a pair of wired headphones plugged in as he bobbed his head. At first she didn’t recognize him, but as he got closer, she realized she knew the golden-haired boy who was walking across the front of her car, his face practically in the clouds as he made it to the other side of the street.

It was the haircut that caught her off guard.

She rolled down the window and honked.

Kevin whipped around, and when he saw who it was, he burst into a grin. “My dear Jessica!”

She rolled her eyes. “I see you chopped off the mop,” she said.