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I want to argue, but Ziggy reaches out, one arm going around my shoulder. “Anything is possible, Alana. Anything. If you want him, you need to have faith that the two of you can find a way to work things out.”
I shrug, turning my attention to my now-empty plate.
WhatIwant is irrelevant. Knowing that is what gave me the strength to walk away from him in the first place. If I keep holding onto Davis, eventually, my baggage will catch up with us and throw his entire future off-course. I can’t let that happen.
So, this morning in the car, I had a momentary lapse in judgement, and for a second, I fooled myself into believing that Davis and I could get back together. I allowed the butterflies and fairytales to cloud my logic.
But slowly, the clouds are beginning to recede again. The simple fact remains—if I really love Davis, the best thing I can do is to go back to keeping my distance. Otherwise, I’ll only be getting in his way. And Davis doesn’t deserve that.
His best interests need to be my priority. Any other choice would be selfish.
He was right to say that he’s ready to move on. I should move on, too.
Too bad things are so weird between us now. I can’t help but wonder if we’ll ever be able to get past our few nights together in Starlight Falls. Will Davis and I be able to be friends one day? At the very least?
Right now, nothing seems certain.
27
DAVIS
“Put the bread in the oven, dearie.” Grammy calls out from the other side of the bakery. “Middle rack.”
“On it, Grams.”I snap out of my pity party for long enough to shuffle across the kitchen and slide several muffin pans into the commercial grade oven.
That’s been the sad headline of my mundane life ever since I got back home to Honey Hill the morning after the non-wedding.
When the first delivery truck of the day shows up, I drag my ass out the bakery’s side door to help with unloading our order. I carry in load after load of flour, sugar, and an endless supply of paper goods.
Work all day. Toss and turn all night. Repeat.
I continue to putt around the kitchen under Grammy’s watchful eye, helping with the early morning open routine at the bakery. Normally, I enjoy my mindless morning chores when I’m here to help Grammy out. But today, mindless tasks are my enemy. Because that means that my thoughts are free to wander.
And despite my best efforts, my mind just wants to wander back to Alana.
Our time at the cabin plays through my head dozens of times each damn day. And not just the sex. All of it. The long car rides with Alana by my side. Her crappy driving directions. The embarrassed smile that crossed her pouty lips as she spilled mustard and crunchy onions into her lap. The peaceful look on her face when she slept next to me.
It’s crazy fucking hard to spend over a decade of your life with someone. To learn and love all their little quirks. To share your soul with them.
Just to have it all ripped away.Twice.
That’s a damn hard switch to flip. Our impromptu getaway in that little log cabin only opened up old wounds.
Closure? Moving on? Yeah, right. I chuckle bitterly under my breath. The burly delivery driver quirks a brow at me when I saunter by, hefting two large sacks of flour on my shoulders.
“Women?” he asks knowingly.
“Yeah,” I grumble.
He nods. “I feel your pain, man. I feel your pain.”
I’m busy stocking a storage pantry when Mason trudges into the bakery, breathless and sweaty, dressed in his workout gear.
“What’s up, cousin?” he greets me, heading straight for the sink.
“You look like you just worked up a sweat,” I comment with a yawn.
“Needed to clear my head, so I went for a jog.” He fills his water bottle and leans against a counter. “How are you doing? You left Crescent Harbor early the other day.”
