Page 18 of The Last Call Home
Not really.Not when it matters.
Me?I’m different from them.I left to chase a degree.That’s all.There was no dramatic exit, no middle finger to the town sign, no scandal.
Just school.
Was I coming back?At some point, because the goal was always to run my mother’s bakery.That was the plan—leave, learn, and return.I wasn’t running from anything.I was building something out of my mother’s bakery.Everyone loves it, but I wanted it to make a mark.
I spent my twenties working two jobs and studying in libraries that smelled like ambition and overpriced coffee.I interned at high-end bakeries where no one smiled, and the macarons were somehow always too perfect.I walked through cities that buzzed with electricity and loneliness, collected bruises and burned croissants, and learned how to keep going even when everything said stop.
I watched other people fall in love, get married, mess it up, and try again while I stayed focused.Disciplined.I lived out of suitcases, shared walls with strangers, and told myself the struggle was worth it—because one day, I’d come back to Birchwood Springs with enough grit and savings to start the life I wanted.
On my terms and in my town, and I did it.Okay, I came earlier because Mom’s health was worrying me, but I’m still here, happy, and making sure The Honey Drop is the best bakery in Vermont.
But them?The Timberbridges?
Why are they coming back?
What did this town offer them after they left it behind?
They vanished like Birchwood was a chapter they couldn’t wait to close.And now they’re here, as if they never ghosted the place, never broke things they didn’t bother to fix.And maybe I’m being unfair.Maybe people change, find clarity, and realize what matters.
Or maybe they’re just passing through.Again.
That’s the part that pisses me off.I mean, Hopper and Ledger are here to stay for good.There’s no doubt about that.Ledge is married to Gale.Hop is engaged to Nysa.I don’t see either one of them uprooting just because they got bored with this town.Now, Malerick ...I still don’t understand why he left his job at the bureau to become the sheriff.There’s something that just doesn’t fit.
Atlas coming back ...that’s too weird.
Why now?
More importantly, why does it feel like they’re bringing something with them?
“Is he coming to set up shop and then leave?”
Nysa shrugs.“Your guess is as good as mine.There’s something about the town needing a hand.”
“A hand with what?”I stare at her suspiciously.
She looks at Gale, who looks away from me.
“Oh, so we have secrets.I thought we were best friends.”I glare at the pastries I brought.“You just want me for my goodies.”
Nysa winces.Good.Guilt suits her.Gale, on the other hand, crosses one leg over the other and sips her wine.
“We have to tell her,” Nysa says.
Gale lets out a sigh that’s part exhausted, part exasperated.It’s almost as if she’s saying,Fine, do it, but it’s going to get fucking messy.
“She has to know,” Nysa insists.
“She’s already spiraling,” Gale says, not even trying to sugarcoat it.“If we tell her this town might be taken over by some mafiosos, she’s going to lose her shit.”
“Stop, rewind.Did you just say ...what the fuck are you talking about?”
They look at each other.
Then, at the ceiling.
Then down at the table, as if it holds answers.
