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“She asked me about them.”
“What did you say?” His voice was deceptively calm.
“Nothing at first, but she kept pressing me for information. She thinks that everyone is lying to her, that I don’t care.”
Mark scoffed. “That’s her way of getting what she wants.”
It didn’t feel great, though. “I just told her that you were protecting her.”
“You had no right to discuss any of this with her.”
“I wasn’t sure what to say. We didn’t discuss what to do if it came up.”
“You should have referred her to me.” His voice filled with anger.
“I did at first, but she wouldn’t take that for an answer.She said I didn’t care about her.” I emphasized the last part because that’s what hurt the most.
“She was manipulating you, and you fell for it.”
“She said we wouldn’t miss her if she was gone.” That couldn’t mean—
“Are you saying Kendall ran away?” Mark’s voice was strangled.
“I don’t think so. I hope not.” Fuck. What had I done? “I’m so sorry, Mark.”
“I have to call Colton and tell him what’s going on,” Mark said in a rush.
“You want me to come to your house in case she comes home?” I asked, desperate to help in some way.
“I think you’ve done enough.”
My stomach dropped at his words, pain ricocheting throughout my body, intensifying with each passing second; he didn’t say more. I held the phone to double-check he had in fact hung up on me.
I turned to face the bakery. Thankfully, it was just Courtney. “Are you okay?”
“What have I done?” I asked her.
She rushed around the counter to take me by my elbow to my office. I sank to the couch and dropped my head into my hands. “No, no, no,” I chanted over and over again.
I felt sweaty—hot, then chilled.
“I think you should come,” Courtney murmured into her phone.
I just shook my head, unable to process anything other than Kendall running out of my store and Mark’s words.I’d done enough.
I always tried to help, whether it was raising my sisters, helping my dad or Mark, but was I harming Kendall?
I should have stayed completely out of it. I never should have entertained the conversation. I should have shut her down, referred her to Mark, and kept our conversation solely on baking. But then, she’d previously confided in me about the teacher she thought yelled too much and the kid on the bus who tripped her on purpose. I liked that she felt comfortable enough to do that.
I felt like I was helping her, but maybe I was wrong. I hurt more than I ever helped.
“Ellie’s coming,” Courtney said, breaking through my spiral.
“She doesn’t have to do that.” I stood but swayed on my feet.
“You should sit.” Courtney gently pushed me back to the couch. “I’ll grab you some water.”
“I don’t need any,” I said as she fled the room in her hurry to help, but my throat was dry, and my head ached.
