Page 96 of Just Like Home

“Pity pastries?” she repeated.

“I used to get them a lot,” he said. “Let me guess—cinnamon roll, apple tart, and a blueberry scone?”

“I honestly don’t know. Betsy told me she’d give me a bag of your favorites.”

His slow nod seemed to imply that his guess was correct.

“Okay, obviously I need to stop buying you gifts.” She set the bag on the kitchen table and started for the door.

“Charlotte, wait,” he said.

She should keep walking. She should’ve learned her lesson one of the other two times she’d tried to extend an olive branch. He had a habit of snapping them in half. But she didn’t keep walking. For some inexplicable reason, she turned around.

“I’m sorry.” He seemed to be forcing out the words. “It was nice of you.”

She didn’t respond.

“Really nice,” he said. “I just kind of liked that there was someone in town who didn’t pity me.”

“I don’t pity you,” she said.

“You don’t feel sorry for poor Coach Turner—got his heart trampled on, and now his ex is back to flaunt her puny boyfriend in his face.”

She faced him now. “Sounds like you feel sorry for you.”

He opened his mouth as if to reply but quickly snapped it shut.

“I just came to see if you were going to quit because if you are, I’m going to have to break it to Amelia.” She stared him down, knowing it was slightly manipulative but also determined to make her point. This wasn’t about Gemma and the skinny purse-holder. This was about a promise he made to a little girl.

Surely he remembered.

He seemed slightly gobsmacked by her comment, but he’d yet to respond.

“Well?”

He picked up the Hazel’s Kitchen bag and opened it, then moved over to the counter, opened the cupboard, and took out two plates.

“I don’t eat—”

“Sugar or carbs, I know,” he said. “But maybe today you do.”

She frowned. No, today, like every other day, she didn’t.

“I was thinking about redoing my kitchen, but I’m still working on the bathrooms. I actually hired Asher to help me. He’ll be over in a bit.” He pulled the pastries from the bag. He set one on each plate and carried them back to the table, set the plates down, and pulled out a chair. He motioned for her to sit down.

She hesitated for a moment, then obliged, and he sat across from her. “That’s what you guys were talking about at practice the other day.”

He looked at her, as if remembering. “Right, you were there.”

“That was nice of you.”

Cole shrugged. “He needed a job. I needed help.”

She eyed him for a long moment. The wordsbig softypopped into her head, but she didn’t say anything. It was clear that Hildy was right. Despite his prickly façade, Cole cared about the people in his life. A lot.

“Do you want the cinnamon roll or the apple tart?” He looked at her now with an unexpected kindness behind his eyes.

She looked down at the plates, unsure what part ofI don’t eat sugarhe didn’t understand. But when her eyes darted back to his, her resolve crumbled. She would’ve eaten all three pastries by herself if he asked her too.

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