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Cora gasped, throwing her hands in the air as if she’d just put it all together. “Are they in a gang?”
Rorie rolled her eyes. “You honestly think Jentry would let them near me or our son if they were? You think he wouldn’t have arrested them already if they were?”
“Oh, duh,” Cora murmured, then went back to trying to figure it out, a snort leaving her as she did. “A gang in Wake Forest. Right.”
“Right,” Rorie muttered before catching my stare again. The worry for me and the warning in her eyes clear.
I heard it. I felt it.
I just couldn’t promise her I’d have the will and strength to push that man away from me the next time he slipped into my bed.
Cora stood from the couch and clapped her hands together. “Okay, and on that slightly terrifying note...it’s muffin time, yes? Yes. Let’s go.”
I looked from her to Rorie in question, but Rorie was already shaking her head and saying, “I can’t.”
“What?” Cora asked, sounding confused and slightly betrayed.
“We have plans tonight, and I already told Jentry I was on my way home when I was walking this way to come tell you.” She made a comically worried face as she stood and started backing up toward the doorway. “So, you know, I should probably start heading home.”
“But it’s tradition!”
“Right, I know,” Rorie said apologetically as she continued backing away. “But we somehow have this one night where we’re kid-less and Jentry isn’t working.”
Cora waved her off. “Say no more. Go. Enjoy. I’ll bring your bread to you in the morning.”
“You’re the best,” Rorie called out as she slipped into the hall, only to pop her head back in. “It was great meeting you, Willow. I’m sorry for...well, I’m just sorry.”
“No, don’t be,” I assured her. “I appreciate everything you told me, and it was really nice meeting you too.”
“All right,” Cora said once Rorie was gone, turning on me. “Muffin time. Let’s go.”
“I’m so confused,” I whispered. “What’s muffin time?”
“Tradition,” she said as if that explained it all.
“Yeah, I heard that part,” I said as I put the last of my decorations away and grabbed my purse. Mostly because the day was over, and my room was ready for when kids would finally fill it tomorrow. Partly because Cora was already walking into the hall as she continued speaking.
“The days before the first and last days of school, we go to this one coffee shop in town. It has some of the best coffee anyway, but they also make these pastries that are to die for,” she said with a groan, complete with a slow eye roll. “Plus, we need to treat ourselves because, as much as we love our jobs and the kids we teach...” She cleared her throat and sent me a mischievous look. “Well, we deserve to be treated.”
“With muffins,” I assumed, putting it all together.
“The best muffins you’ve ever tasted, Willow,” she said as if correcting me. “And we always grab one when we go because you can’t not get a muffin there. But they make this German cinnamon star bread that is probably the most incredible thing I’ve ever put in my mouth—don’t tell my husband I said that.” She tossed out the last on an impish whisper. “And it’s even better the next morning, so we save it for the first and last day of school because we think we should start those days with as much going for us as possible.”
“Got it,” I said with a nod. “So, it’s muffin time that’s actually German cinnamon star bread time?”
She snapped her fingers before pointing at me. “Exactly. And you’re coming with because, even if I hadn’t grown exceedingly attached to you this summer, I sort of feel like I shouldn’t let you out of my sight after everything you just told us.”
An uneasy laugh left me as I followed her out of the school and to the parking lot, listening as she rambled about the dangers in what I’d been doing and went over her outlandish theories based off the cryptic words Rorie had given us.
All the while, I was wavering between kicking myself for ever telling them anything and wondering what kind of death wish I must have to continue letting a virtual stranger into my bed the way I had been. But by the time we arrived at the coffee shop, my internal battle was weighed down by the same question that plagued me every day.
Will he show tonight?
There didn’t seem to be a pattern to his visits. Sometimes, there were two or three nights that separated them. The last few had been back-to-back, but that had also been three nights ago...
“Smells so good, right?” Cora asked when we stepped inside, and I think I hummed in response. “Have you been here yet?”
“No, not yet,” I mumbled as I swallowed the horrifying knowledge that I was obsessing over a man who was actually dangerous and who had legitimately been breaking into my apartment.
