Page 68 of Frosting and Flames

“No, I should be the one apologizing. You didn’t deserve that.”

She’s still not looking at me, but I try not to take it personally. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

If it were me, I’d never be able to get over someone cheating on me, but love can be a complicated emotion. And she did want to play those pranks on him…

“No,” she says vehemently, and the doubt lodged in my chest the past couple of days dissipates. “Not at all. I don’t miss him.But I… I can’t get out of my head that I missed all the signs that he…”

She doesn’t finish the thought, but she doesn’t need to. We both know what he did.

“He betrayed your trust,” I say, trying to phrase it in a more diplomatic way thanhe got another girl pregnant behind your back.

Her shoulders drop with relief, and she finally looks at me, understanding in her gaze. “That’s it exactly. He broke my trust.”

From what I know of Rachel, she doesn’t give trust out lightly. She’s always been one to keep to herself. And it makes me all the more aware there’s still one thing between us I need to make right if we’re ever going to move forward.

My nerves are a tangled mess as I look back at her. I’ve rehearsed this moment a thousand times in my head, but now that it’s here, the words seem inadequate. “I should’ve said this a long time ago. Or at the very least when we started hanging out recently.” My gaze drops to the counter between us, and I force myself to meet her eye. “I’m sorry. For the fire. For what happened to your family’s bakery.”

Her brows lift slightly, as if she hadn’t expected this. “It was an accident.”

I shake my head. “That doesn’t change the fact that I was the reason for it. That your family lost something important to you and had to work so hard to get it back.”

“Nick.” She reaches out, sliding her hand over mine, and I grip it like it’s a lifeline. “It’s not like we were out there ourselves building it back brick by brick. Yes, it was awful it happened. And I admit the fire was scary. But my parents got a nice check from the insurance company and we got to stay at my grandma’s house while everything was rebuilt.”

I stare at her. She’s acting like it wasn’t a big deal. I had expected anger. Frustration. Resentment. Not whatever this is.

“I burned down your bakery.”

The words come with a familiar stabbing sensation in my chest, guilt flooding me. I shouldn’t be reminding her, but apparently she’s forgotten the terrible thing I did. The reason I’ve stayed away from her all these years.

Her soft expression is more than I can bear. “I don’t blame you. I never have.”

“What?” How could she not?

Her hand squeezes mine. “You had just lost your mom, right?”

And there’s a second stabbing sensation in my chest, this time for an entirely different reason. “That’s not an excuse.”

I’m still not sure why I was out in that alley to begin with that day. What compelled me to set off a firecracker there, of all places. Maybe I wanted to run into Rachel? To catch a glimpse of her? Who knows what was going through my grief-addled teenage mind.

She studies me, and while I normally would like her eyes on me, this time I’m too exposed. What does she see?

“Are you determined to carry this guilt around for the rest of your life?”

The knot in my chest loosens at the forgiveness she’s giving so freely. “Rachel…” I hate how thick my voice sounds.

“Do you remember what I said to Kyle at the pancake breakfast?”

How could I forget her standing up for me to him? “That I’d learned from my mistake?”

She nods. “I meant it. And thank you for saying you’re sorry. It means a lot to me, that you would even want to apologize to begin with.”

“Of course I would.”

“Not everyone feels accountable for their actions.”

A timer dings and she lets go of my hand to retrieve the lasagna from the oven. I mourn the temporary loss, even as the rich scent of melted cheese mixed with the tangy sweetness of tomatoes fills the air. The golden-brown cheese bubbles, slightly crispy at the edges of the pan, and Rachel sets it on a trivet, sprinkling fresh herbs on top for a pop of contrast.

I focus on her hand, wishing it were still in mine, but even with it gone, I’m left with the steadiness she gave me, the weight of guilt I’ve been carrying for years slowly easing from my chest.

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