Page 22 of Will Bark for Pizza
KIRA
If there was a bettercure for a sour mood than a cupcake from Frosted Peaks, I hadn’t found it. Was I overdoing it on the sweets lately? Yes. Yes I was. Did that stop me from heading to Aspen’s bakery? No, it did not.
My stomach had been growling since Husker woke me from a desperately needed nap on my brother’s couch with a wet nose to the face. Preferable to a fucking spider on my pillow, but still.
Of the two of us, Husker was the only one to have breakfast, as evidenced by his empty travel bowl. Since Luke’s fridge was emptier than the ski slopes in July, I left my grumpy brother a note and the remnants of my celebration cookie on his kitchen counter as a peace offering.
I was semi-relieved that he went back to bed since grudgingly offering up his shower, and firmly reminding me I needed to find another place to sleep tonight.
Once I worked up the courage to talk to Dad, I’d head to the farm. I suspected Grandma Connie would happilyoffer up a guest room once she realized Husker was along for the ride. Those two had a special bond. Even if she was sore with me, she’d never turn him away.
But first, cupcakes.
I missed the ability to walk everywhere.
In Bluebell Springs during the height of tourist season, it was faster to walk downtown than navigate the sheer number of people from my car. I’d left the Jeep in the overflow lot earlier this morning when I walked the few short blocks to Luke’s condo.
As soon as I got my hands on one of Aspen’s legendary desserts and a desperately needed iced coffee, I’d stop by the hardware store to face Dad.
A bowl filled with water sat outside the bakery, welcoming dogs. Though her cupcakes were the most popular, Aspen made an array of goodies, which included homemade dog treats. At the moment, Husker was the only four-legged customer in line.
“Kira?” Aspen did a double take from behind the counter when she spotted me through a steady crowd of customers.
“Surprise.”
She rounded the counter, adorned in an apron covered in sunflowers and flour, and went right for a hug. Instantly, my blood pressure lowered. Of anyone, Aspen had the right to be the angriest with me. And yet, she was the one to keep in touch. To hint at the end of every conversation that it’d be really nice to see me.
Until this moment, I didn’t know if she really meant it.
“What are you doing here?” Her elated expression dropped in a heartbeat as she knelt to greet Husker. “The bookstore?”
“You knew?” I asked, trying to hide the hurt in my tone, but certain I failed.
“The sign only went up yesterday. I was going to call you, but one of the ovens went out and it’s been a total disaster. I’m so sorry, honey.”
“Yeah, me too.” I cleared my throat and scanned the crowded shop. “Where’s Tango?” I asked of her dog.
“Owen’s off today, so they’re at home, working on that back deck. Well, Tango is probably supervising. You’ll have to see it when it’s?—”
“Kira Jane Mason, you get over here right this instant and give your Aunt Wendy a hug,” Aspen’s mom ordered.
I was so thoroughly in my own tiny bubble, shrinking into the background avoiding the overwhelming crowd of strangers, that I didn’t even notice Wendy was working today. She moved around the counter with purpose and enveloped me in a solid hug. I melted into her, sucking in a deep inhale. I did not want to lose my shit in the firm but comforting embrace I didn’t feel I deserved.
“Does your dad know you’re back?” she asked before letting me go from her stranglehold. Husker pressed his weight against her legs the second I moved, but whether he thought he was protecting me from her wrath, or suspected there were treats in her apron pocket, was a toss-up.
“I’m headed there next. Did you know he was going to do it?”
“Yes, sweetie. But he only talked to me night beforelast. He didn’t call you, did he?” She shook her head and mumbled something under breath about her brother being stubborn. “I told him to call you before the sign went up.”
“What happened?” I asked.
Wendy shook her head, the bandana adorned in kittens tied at the top of her head bouncing with the movement. “This isn’t my conversation to have. And even if it were, I’m still disappointed in you.”
“Mom,” Aspen said, her tone a plea.
I felt the onslaught of eyes on us. I didn’t recognize anyone in line, but I felt the judgment all the same. I owed Wendy an apology, too, but this wasn’t the time or place to get into the nitty-gritty of it all.
“You should be upset with me,” I agreed, owning up to my shittiness, despite the intense urge to run out the door and never look back. As much as I wanted to blame Travis for the collateral damage he caused, my actions were my own responsibility. “I’m going to be in town for a few days. Can we grab a coffee soon?”
