Page 46 of Rook
Stone nodded once. “I know that too.”
Rook’s throat tightened. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
Stone leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to know. You just have to stop pretending it’s not there.”
Rook looked away, jaw working. “It’s not that simple.”
Stone huffed. “Nothing worth a damn ever is.”
Rook swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to do this right.”
Stone nodded once. “So figure it out.”
Rook huffed. “It’s not that easy.”
Stone shrugged. “You’re right. It’s harder. Means you gotta show up different than you did back then.”
Rook stared at the floor, chest aching, the weight of seven years pressing down on him.
Stone waited, steady and immovable. A wall Rook could lean on or crash into.
“You love her,” Stone said finally. “You always have. You can keep running from it, but it won’t change a damn thing.”
Rook closed his eyes.
Stone didn’t push.
“When you’re ready,” Stone said, voice low, “stop punishing yourself for who you were. Start figuring out who you want to be now.”
Rook opened his eyes — raw, unguarded for the first time in years.
And he let himself say it.
“I love her,” he whispered.
Stone nodded once. “Good. Now don’t screw it up.”
Chapter 13
Avery
The next few days passed in a blur of sanding, scrubbing, hauling, and fixing. Noah showed up every morning without being asked, sleeves pushed up, hair damp from a quick shower, toolbox in hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t hover. He didn’t take over. He just worked beside her, steady and quiet and dependable, filling the space with a kind of calm she hadn’t realized she’d been craving.
They didn’t talk much, not about the past, not about the things that still sat between them like unlit fuses. But something shifted anyway. Avery found herself watching him when he wasn’t looking, noticing the way he moved now, more controlled, more grounded, more sure of himself.
The boy she’d loved had been steady and sure, the one place she always felt safe. The man standing beside her carried that same steadiness, but it ran deeper now, heavier and more grounded, shaped by everything he’d experienced. And he was dangerous only in the way he could still get under her skin without even trying.
Somewhere between the broken shelves he repaired and the heavy equipment he lifted like it weighed nothing, Avery realized she wasn’t seeing the boy she left behind anymore. She was seeing the man he’d become.
The days blurred together in a quiet, steady rhythm of work and sweat and shared space, the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty anymore. And when Avery stepped into the bakery that morning, something in her recognized the shift before she even took her first breath.
The morning light spilled through the bakery windows in soft, golden sheets, catching on the polished countertops and freshly scrubbed floors. Sweet Treats no longer looked abandoned. It looked lived-in again, warmed by the hours she’d poured into it, shaped by every late night and early morning she’d spent scrubbing, repairing, coaxing it back to life.
The stainless-steel mixers gleamed. The glass display case sparkled. The wooden shelves she’d sanded and re-stained glowed honey-warm in the sunlight. Even the air felt different now, lighter, sweeter, carrying the faint traces of vanilla and lemon oil she’d used to wipe down every surface.
Sweet Treats didn’t look like a place time had forgotten anymore. It looked like a place someone had fought for and won.
And standing there in the quiet, Avery felt that victory settle into her bones.
