Page 32 of Ashes of Us
Sat on the edge of the bed, head in my hands, trying to breathe through the weight crushing my chest.
She'd done it. She'd actually done it.
And I was proud of her. God, I was so fucking proud of her.
But I also wanted to drive to Riverside right now, walk into that bakery, and see her face one more time. Tell her I was sorry, that I’d been an idiot, that I thought about her every single day and probably always would.
But I couldn't do that.Wouldn'tdo that.
She’d blocked me for a reason. There wasn’t any space for me in the life she’d built.
So I sat there in the dark bunk room, two hours away from the town where my ex-fiancée was living her dream, and tried to figure out how to be happy for her while my chest felt like it was caving in.
The cupcake had tasted exactly like I remembered.
Like everything I'd lost.
Like home.
CHAPTER 14: PIPER
The coffee shop next door to Rise & Shine was called Brewster's, and I'd been there approximately eight hundred times in the past week. It was convenient, after all. I could grab an espresso between morning rush and afternoon prep, sit at the window counter, and watch foot traffic while my feet stopped screaming.
I'd never been there on a date.
Daniel was already at a table by the window when I walked in a few minutes late, thanks to a last-minute customer who wanted to order a custom cake and didn’t seem to care that we were closed.
He looked up from his phone and stood when he saw me—tall, maybe six-one, with brown hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it a few times. The jeans and grey henley were simple, but they fit the way clothes do on someone who actually works out. Effortless, but probably not by accident.
He stood when I walked in, which somehow made the whole thing feel like a real date. Which I supposed it was… except my stomach immediately hated the idea.
Then he smiled, and it was the kind of smile that reached his eyes and made the corners crinkle. Something in my chest unclenched.
"Hey." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges. "You made it."
"Sorry I'm late. Customer emergency." Up close, he looked exactly like someone who worked emergency shifts: alert, steady, a little tired around the eyes.
"Let me guess… someone wanted a three-tier wedding cake for tomorrow?"
"Close. Birthday cake for tomorrow morning." I dropped into the chair across from him. "I told her I needed at least forty-eight hours for custom orders, and she looked at me like I'd personally ruined her son's life."
"Did you take the order?"
"Of course I took the order. I'm a pushover." I rubbed my eyes. "I'm going to be up until midnight doing fondant work."
"Want help?"
I looked up. He was serious… leaning forward slightly, genuine offer in his eyes.
"You know how to work with fondant?"
"God, no. But I can follow instructions and I've got steady hands." He held them up like proof. Broad palms, long fingers, the kind of hands that looked capable. I noticed a thin scar across his left knuckle before I caught myself staring. "Trauma training. I'm great in high-pressure situations involving small details."
I laughed before I could stop myself. "You're offering to spend your Saturday night doing fondant work for a stranger's kid?"
"I'm offering to spend my Saturday night with you. The fondant is just a bonus."
Oh.
