Hidden Bonds (Splintered Hearts #4)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

SAWYER

“Fuck.”

It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Just start over.

I squeeze the edge of the counter, rocking on my heels. My back is sore and the pain is slowly crawling up my neck and into my brain, giving me a headache. I roll my shoulders and take a breath. “Not a big deal.”

There’s a little voice in the back of my head telling me I need sleep.

I don’t need sleep.

I need to get this right and not give dairy-sensitive customers stomach issues.

I put the pandan mixture in a separate bowl. Maybe I’ll make Jane and Hunter something with it later. Or maybe something for the window. The problem is that lately things aren’t really moving, and I’d hate to make a full thing of pandan custard cakes and have them go to waste.

Whatever, I’ll figure it out later.

I start again, separating the egg yolks, then I add sugar and butter to the mixture with the pandan leaves, mixing until the batter turns to a soft buttery yellow. I hear the bell in the shop and smile, knowing exactly who it is.

Without fail.

I walk out to the floor and see Mrs. Ramirez standing at the counter, bent over and inspecting the desserts I have on display.

I always want my case to look full, but finding the balance between a full window and not wasting things has been hard to figure out.

Good thing my sister is up from the city and will gladly take leftovers.

I watch the short elderly woman inspecting the cabinet. She looks up with a start. “Oh, you sweet boy. I didn’t see you.” She smiles, looking back at the window. “How are you today, dear?”

“I’m amazing.” Exhausted. “How are you today? Excited for Jenny?”

She beams brightly. Mrs. Ramirez is a woman in her seventies with short black hair that’s usually wrapped in a colorful scarf. Today she chose a bright pink with a floral pattern.

I can’t count on much, but I can always count on her coming every Thursday before she has lunch with her granddaughter.

“Yes. I’m very excited. She’s been so busy lately.

It’ll be good for her to have a bit of a break.

You know how kids are.” No, I do not, and thankfully that’s not something I have to worry about.

Not that I mind kids, but I’m extremely busy as it is.

I couldn’t imagine also raising a family.

Months ago, Mrs. Ramirez’s granddaughter gave birth to her third child. I know she’s got her hands full.

“Is there something you’re looking for?”

“Do you have any of those raspberry cheesecake brownies? I don’t see any.” She leans down peering into the nearly empty case.

I turn to the fridge I use for orders and grab the box I’d made yesterday. “Made a batch just for her.”

Her mouth drops open when I hand her the sea-green box with my bakery’s name on it—Moonlight Confections.

“You didn’t have to do that! How much?” She holds the box with a bright smile.

“A gift.” I’d had some leftover batter anyway, and since she’s my best customer, I don’t mind at all.

There are times I have a full-on mental breakdown and think about quitting. Then in the back of my brain I think, “Well, if I’m not here, where will Rosa Ramirez get her desserts from?”

I know logically she’d find somewhere else—most likely a big box store—but sometimes it’s this thought that keeps me going.

You need rest.

I ignore the little voice that vaguely sounds like my mother.

“I can’t take that.”

“Please, I insist.”

She looks uneasy, in the way people who don’t often get a break do when they’re given something for free. “Well alright, but I still want to try this . . . what is this here? In the pretty cups.”

“They’re like parfait cups. It’s a play on mango sticky rice. I used my mother’s recipe. She used to make it all the time for Jane and me.”

Her eyes turn sympathetic. “I am so sorry to hear about her passing.”

What? “What do you mean?”

“I saw her obituary in the paper.”

“I’m sorry?” What is she talking about? “Paper?”

“Her obituary. In the local paper. If you or Jane need anything, please let me know. Anything at all.” She goes back to the window, leaving me stunned. The paper? I don’t know . . . What is she talking about.

Then it hits me.

Jane. Goddammit, Jane.

“Oh, I’ll take two of those.”

The sticky rice. Right. “Would you like to sample it first?”

“Oh no. I’m sure it’s delicious if you made it. Would you ring me up two of those, and a dozen of those lemon cookies. Jenny can take them back to her delinquents.”

I laugh. “Not very grandmotherly.”

She smiles, her eyes twinkling. “I love those little goblins just as much as I do her, but she was my baby first. You know what? Why don’t you also put in a slice of that cheesecake.

I’ve been telling my knitting group for ages about this place.

They don’t get out much, but I think with one taste of this they’ll be banging down your door. ”

I gather the things she wants, putting them in another box and tying it with a bow, then I grab a plastic container for the cheesecake.

When I reach for the lemon cookies, heat squeezes my eyes.

I don’t know where it comes from. Maybe it’s because she was talking about her, but it strikes me hard and fast.

Lemon desserts were my mother’s favorite. She loved anything lemon.

I get my shit together and finish ringing her up. “Thank you very much. Tell your granddaughter I said hi.”

“You know . . .” she drawls. Shit, here we go. “Emmanuel is still single.” She flutters her eyelashes, mischief bright in her eyes. “I know you’ve been busy, but I can get you his number.”

I laugh it off. Oh if she only knew. “Thank you, but no thank you. No time.”

What Mrs. Ramirez doesn’t know is that I’ve already been on dates with her grandson. Unlike Mrs. Ramirez who is lovely, sweet, and funny, her grandson lacks any of those characteristics.

The last time we had a date he was more preoccupied with his phone than anything else. Yes, he’s wealthy. Great for him. But if he couldn’t stop working for just one date, I can’t imagine what it would be like dating him. With my busy schedule it’s not like I have much free time as it is.

I don’t tell her any of that, though. I just smile and wave as she concedes.

I barely wait for her to leave the store before I grab my phone and call my fucking sister.

I’m going to strangle her.

It rings a couple of times, and I squeeze it harder in my hand the longer it rings. I want to kick her ass. Metaphorically. I’d never actually lay a hand on her and logically, I know she’d win. Jane doesn’t fight fair. She goes for all the weak spots and doesn’t blink twice about it.

Finally, she picks up. “What do you want?” she groans. “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly eleven, give me a break.”

Jane doesn’t run on normal business-hours time. She runs on Jane time. She’s an art dealer who lives in the city, but she came home nearly three months ago when it was clear Mom wasn’t going to make it much longer.

She hasn’t left yet, but she acts like she’s still living on city nightlife time.

I know she’s waiting for Mom’s house to sell before she leaves.

I also know she feels guilty about leaving me with most of the responsibility while Mom was sick.

I understand, though. Jane’s incredibly busy and Mom didn’t want her to worry.

I worried enough for everyone.

“What do you want?” she groans.

“Did you put an obituary in the paper?!” I hiss. Her following silence is all I need to know. “Goddammit Jane!”

“Nóng c—”

“She asked us not to. She said no papers. No announcements. No fucking funerals.” As it is, we had a little memorial with some close friends who knew her. “She wanted to be cremated and go in peace. Without any fuss. She didn’t want—”

“I know!” she shouts. “I know, okay, it’s just .

. . It’s one obit. Just one. I can’t stand the thought of no one knowing she’s gone.

I can’t stand the thought that months from now you’ll still have to tell people she’s gone.

Everyone loved her. Everyone will be asking you.

This way, it’s in the local paper so people will know. I just wanted to do something. I just—”

“I . . . I . . . Jane! This isn’t about you! If you wanted to do something, you should have been here last year when she got sick!” I bite my tongue. Shit. I close my eyes. “Pii—”

“You’re a dick, you know that?!”

Fighting with my sister will not help anything right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I’m stressed out and tired.

I shouldn’t take it out on you.” I hear her sniff on the other end of the line and I feel even worse.

Jane is not a crier. We’re dealing with a lot.

I take a breath and calm down. “I’m sorry. I’m just dealing with a lot and—”

“It’s just a local paper. What does it matter?”

She didn’t want it. That’s why it matters. I’m not fighting with Jane. What’s done is done. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. That wasn’t fair.”

She sniffs. “I am too.”

My bell trills again and I see Hunter and his friends come in. “I have to go, okay? I’ll talk to you later.” I don’t wait for her to respond before I hang up. “Hey, guys.”

Hunter eyes me in the way he’s done ever since my mother got sick. The check-in look. Are you okay? Nope. No, I am not. I have no choice but to be, though. If I stop treading water for even a minute, I’ll drown.

I put what just happened behind me. Our mother, although having tons of friends and being very active in the community, was very private and cautious to the point of paranoia. She never even used her real name, just the nickname we all gave her.

Growing up we weren’t allowed outside my mother’s restaurant alone. I wasn’t allowed to go to friends’ houses or hang out with friends after school. I was welcome to have friends over, but that didn’t really happen. Jane and I grew up close as a result. She’s always been my best friend.

She’ll have to go back to the city soon, so I’ll enjoy all the time I can get with her now. Upsetting her is not something I want to do.