Page 48 of Rook
The cinnamon rolls came out golden and perfect, steam rising in soft curls. Avery stared at them, stunned. She’d done it. She’d actually done it.
A laugh slipped out, soft, disbelieving, full of something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Hope.
She plated one roll, took a bite, and closed her eyes as the taste hit her. Sweet. Warm. Home.
A knock sounded at the front door. She wiped her hands on her apron and crossed the room, unlocking the door.
Noah stood on the other side.
Sunlight hit him from behind, outlining the broad lines of his shoulders, the tattoos curling over his forearms, the cut hanging open over a dark gray T-shirt. His hair was still damp from a shower, a few strands falling into his eyes in a way that made him look younger and rougher all at once.
He looked… good. Too good.
His gaze swept over her, the apron, the flour smudged on her cheek, the paint streak on her wrist, and something in his expression shifted. Softened. Warmed. Like seeing her like this did something to him he wasn’t prepared for.
“You've been busy,” he said quietly.
Avery stepped back to let him in. “Yeah. I… needed to do something.”
He walked inside, boots thudding softly against the floor. His eyes landed on the cinnamon rolls first. “You made those?”
She nodded.
He picked one up, took a bite, and stilled.
Avery’s stomach tightened. “Is it bad?”
Noah shook his head slowly, eyes locked on hers. “Aves… these taste exactly like hers.”
Something inside her went still, not fear, not sadness, something deeper. Something that felt like being seen.
He set the roll down gently, like it meant something. Maybe it did.
His gaze shifted to the sign on the counter. “You painted that?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “It felt like time.”
Noah stepped closer, fingers brushing the edge of the wood. “It looks good.”
“Thanks.”
He looked at her then — really looked — and the air between them tightened, warm and charged. His eyes lingered a second too long on the paint on her wrist, the flour on her cheek, the way the apron tied at her waist. His gaze moved over her slowly, like he was memorizing the details without meaning to.
“You want help hanging it?” he asked.
She nodded.
And something in the space between them shifted, a change neither of them could ignore. They carried the sign outside together, the weight of it awkward but shared. Noah held it steady while Avery climbed the small ladder, hands trembling slightly as she hooked the chains.
“Careful,” he murmured, one hand hovering near her hip like he was ready to catch her.
She felt the heat of him even without the touch.
Avery stepped back from the ladder, brushing her palms against her jeans as the newly painted sign swayed gently above them. The morning light caught the fresh colors, making them glow.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
