Page 32 of Just Desserts in Pelican Point
“I know.”
“No, you don’t because if you did, you wouldn’t be out here hiding in sawdust and guilt. You’d be over there fixing your royal fuck up.”
I turn away, jaw tight because he’s right.
He keeps going. “Look, I get it. You’re used to keeping people at arm’s length. You’ve got your reasons—hell, I’ve seen your military file, remember? But Julie? She’s not a mistake. She’s not a risk. She’s the first good thing you’ve let into your life since I’ve known you. And you’re gonna let your trauma scare you into walking away from that? If you do, you’re more of a fuck up than I thought. If she were mine, I’d never let her go.”
His words hit harder than I expect, and the jealousy deep in my gut tells me every word is true.
“She looked so damn happy last night,” I say quietly. “And then this morning… I didn’t know how to stay. How to be enough for her.”
Delgado steps forward, grabbing my shoulder and giving it a solid shake. “Then fucking learn. Figure it the hell out. But don’t punish her for making you feel something real.”
I meet his eyes, and there’s no judgment there now. Just the kind of loyalty that only comes from years of watching each other bleed and survive.
“You think she’ll forgive me?” I ask.
Delgado smirks. “You show up with that sad puppy face, maybe she’ll forgive you; maybe she won’t, but you’ll never know if you don’t go find out.”
I grab my keys, adrenaline kicking in.
It’s time to stop hiding—and time to start making things right before it’s too late.
* * *
By the time I get to Seaside Sweets, the sun’s already dipping below the horizon and casting a golden glow over the street. I’m too late.
The front windows are dark. Chairs flipped upside down on tables. No light spilling from the kitchen. She’s not here.
My stomach drops.
I park anyway, double-checking like maybe she’s inside cleaning up or doing something in the back, but I already know better. She locks up around five-thirty if it’s a slow day—and today clearly was. The “Closed” sign on the door is like a slap.
I rub a hand down the back of my neck and mutter, “Dammit.” I blew it.
I stand there for a second, leaning against the hood of my truck like a jackass, staring at her storefront like it’s going to sprout a solution out of thin air.
I curse under my breath and get back in the truck. Maybe she’s at home. Maybe she just needed to breathe and get away from the routine of an ordinary day for a bit. Maybe she’s curled up on the couch watching some baking show and yelling at the screen about people overmixing their batter.
Probably not, but I’ve got an ounce of hope left in me.
It takes five minutes to get to her place, but it feels like an hour.
When I pull up to her house, the front porch lights are off. There’s no sign of her car. No movement behind the curtains. She’s not home.
I kill the engine but don’t move. I sit there gripping the wheel like it might hold me together while my brain runs through every worst-case scenario it can come up with.
She’s pissed. Of course she’s pissed. I left her. After everything that happened last night—after she let me in, after she opened up, after she gave me every damn reason to stay.
Fuck, what if she’s done with me? What if she’s already moving on—already deciding she’s not wasting her time waiting for the emotionally stunted cop with commitment issues?
I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, breathing through the tight knot in my chest that feels a lot like regret. I don’t do panic. I don’t do messy emotions. But right now, I feel like I’m about ten seconds from losing something that really matters.
A light flares on down the block, motion sensor kicking on at a neighbor’s place, and I realize I’m just sitting in her driveway like some lovesick teenager. I could come back tomorrow.
I could try again in the morning; hope she hasn’t thrown my name into a bonfire along with her raspberry danish recipe.
But I’m tired of running and I’ve got nowhere left to go but toward her. Even if she slams the door in my face, I have to at least try. She can’t think I’ve walked away. I need to stay and wait for her… even if she turns me away.
