Page 40 of Sweetly Yours

“Alright, alright,” I say, standing and brushing off my jeans. “Let’s keep walking.”

As we head back toward the inn, the weight in my chest doesn’t feel any lighter, but at least I feel a little less trapped.

One step at a time. That’s all I can do.

When Frankie and I get back to the inn, the sun is starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet street. The fresh air hasn’t done much to clear my head, but at least I feel a little less like I’m suffocating.

As I step into the lobby, Frankie trailing behind me on his leash, the front desk receptionist looks up from her computer and gives me a polite smile.

“Miss Hart?” she asks, her voice soft but curious.

I pause, my hand tightening on Frankie’s leash. “Yes?”

She glances down at something on the desk before sliding it toward me. “Someone dropped this off for you earlier. They said it was urgent.”

My stomach flips as I reach for the envelope, my fingers trembling slightly. It’s plain and unmarked, with my name scrawled across the front in neat, looping handwriting I don’t recognize.

“Did they say who they were?” I ask, my voice tighter than I’d like.

She shakes her head, her brow furrowing. “No, just that it was for you. I thought maybe it was a friend or a family member?”

“Right,” I say weakly, clutching the envelope. “Thank you.”

When I get to my room, I lock the door behind me, my heart pounding as I sit on the bed and stare at the envelope. Frankie jumps up beside me, curling into my side as if he knows something’s wrong.

I rip it open carefully, pulling out a single sheet of paper. The handwriting inside matches the envelope—precise, almost delicate—but the words are anything but.

Willow,

Do you like how your life’s falling apart? Your house? Your bakery? This is just the beginning. You don’t belong with him. If you want to make sure nothing else happens, you’ll do the right thing! Break up with Brock and everything stops. Stay, and it will only get worse.

Your choice.

My stomach churns as I read the words again, each line cutting deeper than the last. My hands shake as I set the paper down, my mind spinning with questions and dread.

Who would do this? Why?

The obvious answer rises to the surface immediately. Tessa.

She’s the only one who fits. The only person who has a reason to target me, to try to scare me.

I clutch the paper tightly, my breathing uneven as the reality of the situation sinks in. She’s not just trying to hurt me—she’s trying to take Brock away from me.

But breaking up with him? Walking away? That’s not an option. Is it?

I glance at Frankie, who’s watching me with his wide, concerned eyes. “What do I do, buddy?” I whisper, my voice cracking.

He whines softly, nudging my hand with his nose.

I know what I need to do.

The next morning, I drive to the bakery to assess the damage. If I’m ever going to rebuild my life, I have to start somewhere.

When I pull into the parking lot, I freeze. The windows that were shattered the last time I was here are now boarded up neatly with plywood. My heart skips a beat, and a mix of confusion and unease washes over me. I didn’t even think to do that. Was this Brock?

“What the...?” I whisper, stepping out of the car with Frankie at my heels.

Frankie sniffs the air, wagging his tail as if nothing is wrong, but I can feel my pulse quicken.

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