Page 41 of Sweetly Yours

The door swings open easily, and I step inside, expecting to see the same wreckage from yesterday. Instead, the mess is gone. The counters have been fixed, the broken glass swept away, and the walls, while still faintly streaked with graffiti, have been scrubbed down as much as possible.

It’s not perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better.

“Hello?” I call out hesitantly.

Frankie barks, his tail wagging furiously as he bolts toward the back.

“Frankie!” I whisper, my voice trembling as I hurry after him.

The sound of his excited yips echoes through the quiet bakery, and my heart jumps when I hear a faint shuffle comingfrom my office. My grip tightens on the rolling pin I grabbed from the counter as I nudge the door open.

Inside, sprawled on my tiny office couch, is Brock.

His long legs dangle off the edge, his head resting on one of my throw pillows, and Frankie is pawing at his chest like he’s trying to wake him up.

“Brock?” I whisper, lowering the rolling pin.

He stirs, blinking groggily as he sits up, rubbing his hand over his face. His hair is mussed, his shirt wrinkled, and he looks utterly exhausted.

“Willow?” he says, his voice rough with sleep.

I stare at him, my heart pounding for a completely different reason now. “Did you... Did you sleep here?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, stretching his arms over his head. “I didn’t want to leave the place unguarded.”

I blink, trying to process his words. “You... cleaned?”

He shrugs, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “It was a mess. I couldn’t stand thinking about you coming back and seeing it like that.”

“You boarded up the windows?”

“Yeah,” he says, standing and towering over me as he runs a hand through his hair. “Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Brock...” My voice breaks, and I shake my head, unable to find the right words.

He steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t even realize had fallen. “I know you said you needed space,” he says, his voice low and firm. “But I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. Someone came into your life and tried to rip it apart. That doesn’t sit right with me, Willow.”

I swallow hard, my eyes searching his. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

He leans down, his forehead nearly touching mine as his voice drops even lower. “Yes, I did. Because I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt you again.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I feel the weight of his protectiveness settling over me like a shield.

“You’re not alone in this,” he continues, his grip on my hip tightening slightly. “You’re mine, Willow. And no one messes with what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone would have intimidated me from anyone else, but from Brock, it feels like safety.

Frankie barks again, breaking the tension, and Brock smirks, glancing down at him. “Even your dog knows I’m right,” he teases.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

He straightens, looking around the room, his expression hardening slightly as he takes in the remnants of the destruction. “This place is important to you,” he says, his voice firm. “We’re going to fix it. All of it.”

The intensity in his gaze makes my chest tighten, and I find myself nodding before I can think. “Okay.”

“Good,” he says, his jaw clenching. “Because whoever’s doing this? They’re not going to win. Not as long as I’m here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

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