Page 46 of Sweetly Yours

“Alright, Frankie,” I say, smiling down at him. “Let’s go see Brock.”

Brock’s workshop is only a short drive away, and the warm glow of light spilling through the windows makes it feel like a beacon in the dark. When I step inside, the scent of sawdust and varnish wraps around me like a comforting hug.

He’s at his workbench, focused, his large hands moving with practiced ease as he puts the finishing touches on a project. He doesn’t notice me at first, and I take a moment to admire him—the way his muscles flex under his fitted t-shirt, the way his dark hair falls slightly into his eyes.

“Brock,” I say softly, stepping further into the room.

He looks up, his face breaking into a smile that makes my stomach flutter. “Hey, baby,” he says, setting down his tools and wiping his hands on a rag.

I cross the room to him, Frankie trailing at my heels. “What are you working on?”

His smile deepens, and he nods toward the far wall where a tall, beautifully crafted wooden display case stands.

My breath catches as I take it in. The wood is smooth and polished, the intricate details carved into the edges making it look like something out of a storybook.

“You made this?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“For you,” he says, stepping beside me and sliding an arm around my waist. “I figured Sweetly Yours deserved something special. Something that’s one of a kind, like you.”

Tears sting my eyes as I reach out to run my fingers over the carvings. Tiny flowers, vines, and even a few hearts are etched into the wood with painstaking detail.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, my throat tight. “Brock, I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. “Just tell me it’ll look good in your shop.”

I laugh softly, turning to wrap my arms around his neck. “It’s perfect,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

He kisses me then, slow and tender, his hands resting on my hips. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm and full of love.

“I’m so proud of you, Willow,” he says softly. “You’ve been through hell, and you came out stronger. Seeing you in that bakery today, with everyone showing up to support you... it reminded me of why I fell for you in the first place.”

Tears spill over, and I rest my forehead against his. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You and June and everyone else... you saved me.”

He shakes his head, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “You saved yourself, baby. I just gave you the tools to do it.”

I laugh through my tears, leaning up to kiss him again. In this moment, with his arms around me and the smell of sawdust in the air, I feel whole.

I’ve built a life here—one that’s stronger than any obstacle Tessa or anyone else can throw my way. And with Brock by my side, I know there’s nothing I can’t handle.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

BROCK

The phone buzzes on the workbench, and when I see Tessa’s name on the screen, my gut tightens. She hasn’t called or texted in days, and honestly, I was hoping she’d just disappear. But there’s no way she’s calling for a friendly chat, especially not this late.

I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “What do you want, Tessa?”

At first, all I hear is her heavy breathing, followed by a hiccup that tells me exactly what’s going on. She’s drunk.

“You’re still with her, aren’t you?” she slurs, her words dripping with bitterness.

I clench my jaw, already regretting picking up. “Tessa, it’s late. What do you want?”

“I want you to wake up!” she yells, her voice cracking. “You’re still with that little baker girl, aren’t you? After everything I’ve done?”

My whole body goes still, my mind catching on those last words. Everything she’s done?

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, my tone sharp but calm.

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