Page 70 of Darlin'

"You'll be fine." Jesse chuckles, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and giving me a tight squeeze. My frown deepens, and he gives my temple a quick side kiss. "But I'll leave the fire extinguisher on the table just in case."

"Maybe I should tell Jo that the bake sale is a no-go," I say as Jesse drops the empty basket in the holder at the front of the store. "Instead, I could do a lemonade stand or—" I flick my nails, a big ole wave of anxiety washing over me.Shoot. “I mean, lemonade is just three ingredients, right? I could?—"

"Don't worry, Sav," Jesse says, facing me. He reads my panicked expression like a dang coloring book. "You'll be fine. Plus, if you fuck up the first batch, you still got the second and third..."

"But I've never done it before," I whisper, heartbeat picking up speed as I remember tumbling off the stage mid-talent portion at a pageant many years back. "What if I burn 'em? What if they come out hard as steel?" My eyes widen, my pulse racing. "What if they stick to the pan? No, I can't do it. I can't." I point a sharp finger back to the baking aisle. "I know how to make those, Jesse. I know how to make 'em perfectly, but gingersnaps?! I've never made gingersnaps before?—"

"Wow, take a breath.” Jesse’s gaze bounces between my frantic eyes as he grabs my shaking hand. "What's going on, Sav?"

"I don't know," I say in a trembling tone, unable to swallow away the ball of nerves in the back of my throat. "I?—"

Failure. Disappointment. Useless. Those three words ring in my ears. My mother's voice bulldozes through my conscience, knocking away all the sturdy towers of self-worth I've been trying to rebuild for years. One crashes after another, my hands trembling, my chest rising.

“Hey, you’re okay. Come here." Jesse pulls me into a hug, stroking the back of my head as I close my eyes and count my breaths. His embrace serves as a refuge, and I fight to barricade the doors from infiltrating thoughts. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to?—"

"It's not—" I swallow hard, willing my mind to calm down as I breathe in his familiar scent of protection. "I just... I don't want to mess up. I don't want to let everyone down..."

"It's okay," Jesse mumbles against my temple. "There's no pressure here, Sav. No one's going to be angry with you, okay?"

"Okay..."

You're fine. You're safe. You're capable.

I wrap my arms tight around Jesse, repeating the mantra in my head until I start believing it. Gosh, it's been a hot minute since I've felt this way. Jesse holds me, tenderly rubbing my back as I wait for the nerves to pass.

"You must think that I'm stupid, huh?" I mutter quietly into his chest, unable to look at him. "Who flips out over dang cookies?"

"I don't think you're stupid," Jesse says, palming the back of my head, the warmth from his skin soothing my nerves like a mug of steamed milk. "And neither should you."

He means it. I can tell. There are no lies in his tone, only concern and a hint of justifiable fear. I feel it too. Maybe for a different reason.

He continues cautiously, "I...I think it'snormal to get worried about things, Sav, especially things you've never tried before." He pulls away, features soft and tame and frightening to my heart. "You care, and you want to do a good job. That's not stupid, Savannah. Not at all." He hesitates, contemplating his next question. "Is this...is this why you won't learn to swim? Because you're afraid of failing?"

Failure is never an option, Savannah. Again. Go again. Head up. Shoulders straight. Again. Again. Again.

I wince, uncomfortable with his keen observation. "Umm...no. We can uh—we can do lessons tomorrow if you want."

"You say that every time I bring it up," he says, brushing my hair behind my ear. "Eventually, tomorrow is going to have to come, Sav."

"I know that," I whisper, a rebound bolt of nerves creeping up my throat. "We can uh—we can do it tomorrow. Really this time."

"Maybe Sunday," Jesse says with a warm smile, clasping his fingers through mine as he leads us out of the automatic doors. "Tomorrow, we've got some cookies to bake."

"We?" I ask, lifting my head up. "You gonna help me?"

"Depends." Jesse shrugs, tossing me a playful smirk. "You gonna wear an apron?" He wiggles his brows. "Onlyan apron?"

"Only an apron?" I ask, managing a small smile. "Is that the only way you'd help me? If I'm naked?"

"I'd help you either way"—Jesse grins—"but we've got to do something while we wait for the timer." He tossesme a wink. "Might as well do each other. What do you say, princess?"

"I say bring on the apron." I peer up at him skeptically. "You're really gonna bake cookies with me? Seriously?"

"Trust me," Jesse snorts, unlocking his truck. "I'm equally shocked. Now, get in, my little gingersnap, before I change my mind."

Gosh,I love baking cookies.

And I love waiting for the timer to ding even more.

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