Page 65 of Half Baked

“How did Hayden take that?”

I snort. “Like Hayden. Very stoic and calm.”

“Is she going to… advertise it?” Stevie asks carefully, throwing the Jeep in drive and pulling out onto the road.

“Hayden didn’t let her press the subject, he just said that we’d talk about it later. But I don’t see how there is anything to talk about. We need to tell her no,” I reply decidedly.

Beside me, I watch Stevie’s shoulders relax. I hadn’t even thought about how that would impact Beckett too. But of course, she had. As fiercely as she loves our group, I think Beckett mighthave a more significant corner of her heart. I won’t be poking at that theory though.

I turn to her and ask, “What is it that has people so fascinated? Why do they keep treating his family like this? His parents went out for a drive and crashed into the ocean. That is so sad, but an accident. Then the business being passed to Hayden got complicated. Right? What makes it so buzz worthy all these years later?”

“Um, you should probably get the facts from Hayden one day,” Stevie suggests gently. “Because that’s not really the story.”

“It’s not?”

I never looked into the story. In fact, I went out of my way to ignore the articles. I didn’t want a reason to see his stupid, handsome face in any of the pictures.

“Just let Hayden tell you. Supposedly, he’s even kept details from Beckett.”

We drive the remaining miles with the radio up and the windows down. I have my hand outstretched, riding the breeze, while I watch the cottages grow more stately along the road and bits of ocean flash between each home as we work our way up the coast.

The whole way, Stevie’s words circle round my thoughts.He’s even kept details from Beckett. I think back to how she was there to support Beckett all those years ago, but she said no one was as close to Hayden. My heart aches for the lonely weight he must carry, and I remember the way I saw through his mask at the bakery yesterday. Did Tripp and Wes not see through the mask when everything happened? Mrs. Silberman?

I don’t have time to sort through all my thoughts because the familiar stone wall of Cliff House comes into view and I spot the line of cars down the drive. I wonder if this would be easier if it were strangers in attendance. With everyone I know watching, this feels like a statement. Either I pull back under their watchfulgazes and hurt Hayden, or I show everyone how close we’ve become before I can even be sure of what this is.

“What was that code word?” I mutter to Stevie.

She parks the Jeep and turns to me with a thoughtful expression. “Hmm, let’s say… scrunchie.” Reaching for my bag, she digs around inside until she finds the spare scrunchie I keep in the side pocket and snatches it up. “I’ll take this, and then you can honestly say you don’t have it. And we’ll come out here to check for one.”

“Okay, that’s good.” I nod decidedly, looking down the path around the side of the estate. Wren’s hand comes over my seat from the back and squeezes my shoulder supportively.

“Ready?” Ivy asks softly. “We can run interference on anyone you want.”

“I may take you up on that.”

I step down onto the stone drive, a smile tugging at my lips as I remember the first time I was here. It’s hard to believe that was only a month ago, it’s even harder to believe how much has changed between me and Hayden in that month.

We walk down the path that leads to the back yard, the sound of music and chatter beckoning us. Coming around the corner, I spy a long table down the side of the yard adorned with crisp linen and sprawling flower arrangements. I turn to Stevie and smirk. “Your flowers look amazing.”

“I couldn’t leave everything up to the boys,” she replies cheerfully.

Past the table, down at the cliff’s edge, a smoking mound rises from the ground. It’s not surprising that Hayden would be traditional and do a clambake right. This means that he’s dug a hole and filled it with hot rocks and a fire, then covered everything with fresh seaweed. Currently, alongside Nash and Jamie, he’s layering food atop the mound.

Or, he was. Until he straightened, and his gaze locked on me.

I suck in a breath and stare right back into those deep, ethereal blues. Like a rip tide, every part of me is being pulled to him, and it’s tiring to fight it.

Desperate to hear whatever thought his eyes are trying to convey, I take a step forward. Then another.

“Poppy, dear!” A voice tugs at my attention. Spinning, I see Ivy’s mother, Ruth Taylor, approaching. “How lovely to see you here,” she tells me, waving her glass of chilled white wine at the party. One by one, she envelops each of us in a hug.

I can still feel Hayden’s eyes on me as she wraps me in her delicate, deep brown arms. The heat of his gaze bores into my skin like someone is holding a magnifying glass against me in this summer sun.

“It’s so wonderful to have you all together. Why the change of heart this year?” Ruth asks. There is kindness in her words, I know that she’s genuinely just happy to see me here.

Yet I’m at a loss for how to respond. I grasp for a way to explain, something that is fitting for casual conversation. “It was just time,” I settle on lamely. “Will you excuse me?”

Wishing I had half the grace of Mrs. Taylor, I clumsily sidestep her and duck inside the house. It’s empty, luckily. Closing the door from the patio behind me, I lean back against it and take a deep breath.

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