Page 41 of Rook
He’d been carrying her ghost for seven years. Every deployment. Every night alone. Every time he tried to move on. Every time he failed.
And now she was back — real, warm, close enough to touch — and he didn’t know how to breathe around her.
He picked up one last stone, turning it over in his palm.
He wasn’t in love with her. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be.
But the truth pressed against his ribs like a bruise he couldn’t stop poking.
He’d never stopped. Not once. Not for a single damn day.
He threw the stone into the lake and watched the ripples spread until they disappeared.
Chapter 12
Rook
Dawn found him the same way the lake had left him: restless, raw, and thinking of her. Rook showed up at Sweet Treats before the sun had fully cleared the treeline, the air still cool enough to sting his lungs.
He told himself the bakery needed work, that the place wasn’t secure, that he was just keeping watch. Nothing more.
He didn’t tell himself the truth.
The truth was standing inside the bakery with her hair twisted into a messy knot, wearing paint-splattered leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that slid off one shoulder like it had been doing that for years. She looked exactly like the version of Avery he’d spent seven years trying not to remember: focused, determined, and somehow still soft around the edges.
Avery didn’t hear him come in. She was sanding one of the old wooden shelves, humming under her breath, sunlight catching the dust in the air around her like she was standing in her own halo. The sound of her — the quiet hum, the steady rhythm — hit him harder than he expected.
Rook leaned against the doorframe, watching her. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t.
But he did.
Her movements were sure, practiced. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear with the back of her wrist, leaving a streak of sawdust across her cheek.
She didn’t notice.
He did. He always did.
He cleared his throat.
Avery startled, spinning around. “Seriously, Noah… warn a person.”
He stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t scare me,” she said, even though she clearly had been. “Just… surprised.”
He nodded toward the shelf. “You shouldn’t be doing that alone.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m capable.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“You implied it.”
He exhaled slowly. “Aves… I’m just trying to help.”
Her jaw tightened in irritation. “I’m fine. I just… don’t want you to see me screw this up.”
That one hit different. Not because she pushed him away, but because she was trying not to look small in front of him.
