Page 59 of Heat Lightning

“Gwen said you might need a few days off soon. Please take the time you need. We won’t starve.”

“Thank you,” I said, fighting back tears again. Sometimes I forgot how nice it was to work for someone who was actually a good person.

Mr. Marino stepped back, eyes wide in trepidation. “I’m going to get Gwen,” he mumbled. “She’ll know what to do.”

He exited as quickly as he’d come, taking the bat with him. Any other day I’d laugh at how spooked he was by demonstrations of emotion. Ugh, how embarrassing. So much for not crying at work.

I plopped the overworked dough back in a bowl to rise and jumped when the oven timer went off.

Oh, that’s right. I also made cookies.

Gwen found me a few minutes later, sliding a tray of chilled sausage rolls into the oven. Perfectly soft-centered, browned butter chocolate chunk cookies cooled on the counter, and the croissants were nearly ready to bake.

She took one look around the room, hands on her hips, and pointed at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. “Sit.”

I sighed. There was no point in arguing with her. I plated a few cookies while she closed the door and followed her over, setting them between us as an offering.

She stared at them with a raised eyebrow and then looked up at me. “Spill it.”

My mouth popped open. “You’re not even going to try one?”

“I know what you’re doing. You can’t carbo-load me out of this conversation. The last time you baked this much was the anniversary of your mother’s passing. So. Tell me what’s going on.”

I crossed my arms and pouted, like the mature adult I was. “Am I not allowed to have a bad day now and then?”

“Of course, you are. But you’re my best friend. I know you. This is more than a bad day. Is this about your heat coming back? Which would be completely understandable given the circumstances, by the way.”

Weepy all over again, I wiped at my cheeks. “I’m your best friend?”

I’d never been anyone’s best friend. I had friends, of course. I wasn’t a total social outcast growing up. But I’d always felt a bit like I was on the outside looking in, even before Mom died.

She smiled at me. “Duh. I thought you knew that.”

I knew she was my best friend. I’d just assumed she had other, better friends outside of work, and that was why we rarely hung out. “You’re mine, too.”

She winked at me and picked up a cookie. “Obviously. You don’t bake these for just anybody.” Breaking the treat in half, she took a bite.

Sighing in relief at dodging the bullet, I snagged a cookie of my own. It’d been an unintentional evasion, but I thanked my lucky stars anyway. I wasn’t ready to tell her just how pathetic I was over an alpha who didn’t want me.

Plus, there was the whole murder thing.

Before the cookie was even halfway to my mouth, however, Gwen continued, “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, tell me what’s really bothering you.”

I froze, eyes narrowed. That sneaky, sneaky⁠—

“Don’t give me that look. Out with it.”

“Can I rescind my best friend status?”

She feigned insult. “Ouch. Are you divorcing me in front of the cookies? Really?”

“I don’t keep secrets from my cookies. It’s why they’re so good.”

She bit into the other half. “You can’t get out of telling me, but if you want to waste the day away being ridiculous, I’m happy to join you. I do have book club at six, though.”

I scrubbed my hands through my hair. Keeping everything to myself would only drive me more mad.

Plus, we weren't at the clinic anymore. There were no rules for mandatory reporting or loopholes to confidentiality to contend with. This was a conversation between friends.