Chapter 14
Fourteen
Holt slid a tray of cookie bars into the oven. “It feels kinda weird being here without Rachel. I got used to being back in a kitchen with her the past couple of weeks.”
Jonah only grunted and continued to knead butter into the brioche dough. He could’ve used the stand mixer and let a dough hook do all the work, but he needed the physicality of kneading to distract himself from the fact that she wasn’t here.
Brax worked his way down a row of puff pastries, folding and rolling each one before returning the lot of them to the cooler to chill. “What’s she up to today, anyway?”
“No idea.” And Jonah hated that.
Holt went brows up. “Really? You’ve kept her in your pocket since she got hurt. I’m surprised you didn’t make her give you a detailed itinerary.”
“She’s free to come and go as she chooses. My pressing her about it would’ve come across as an interrogation. She won’t be foolish or go anywhere alone.” He’d exacted that much of a promise from her last night when she’d told him she wasn’t coming into the bakery with him this morning. Somehow they’d gone from being able to talk about anything to walking on eggshells, trying to avoid the elephant in the room.
“You say that like you’re chewing glass, man,” Brax observed. “Did you two have a fight?”
“No.” He just didn’t know where they stood, and didn’t know how to ask her because his heart wanted one answer and his brain knew he had to settle for another. It was what was best for them both. Anything else was pure selfishness on his part.
“Right. So that brioche personally attacked you and insulted your mom?” Holt asked. “Because it’s gonna be like rubber if you keep that up.”
Jonah growled and braced his hands on the worktable. This would’ve been so much simpler if she’d just gone home as she’d originally planned. Their arrangement would’ve come to its natural end, and it would’ve sucked, but it wouldn’t have required a hard conversation. They could’ve slid back into their familiar roles as friends, and he’d eventually figure out how to sleep without being curled around her.
Brax came back from putting the pastry in the cooler. “You could ask her to stay.”
“Why would I do that? Her life isn’t here.” And he had to keep ignoring the fact that she’d made it clear it wasn’t in Syracuse anymore, either.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re in love with each other,” Holt drawled.
His words slid like a knife between Jonah’s ribs. It was one thing for him to love Rachel. He’d gone into this whole thing knowing it would hurt when it was over. But he didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to break her heart. She’d had enough of that in her lifetime. In his quest to give her as much of himself as he could in the time they had, had he inadvertently helped her skate across that line?
“She’s already extended her trip,” Brax pointed out. “She doesn’t want to walk away from you. She’s just waiting for some sign from you that you don’t want her to go.”
Jonah scowled. “You haven’t even been here.”
“Didn’t have to be. None of this is a shock to me. We’ve been waiting on you two to get out of your own way for two years.”
Blowing out a breath, he admitted the truth. “I can’t do forever. Not with her. Not with anybody.”
“Why the hell not?” Holt demanded.
“I’ve got my reasons.”
Brax rolled his eyes. “Well, are you sure they’re worth a damn? Because you seem pretty upset at the prospect of things with her being over.”
“It’s the right thing for her.”
The look they exchanged made it perfectly clear they thought he was full of shit. But they didn’t know. They didn’t understand. They hadn’t been the one she’d told about her anguish sitting by John’s hospital bed, day after day, losing him by degrees. They hadn’t seen her cry and watched her break apart as she finally let loose of the grief she’d been carting around since his death. He had. And he’d do anything to keep her from hurting like that ever again. But none of that was his story to tell, so he ignored them both and began slicing baguettes for the jambon beurre lunch special of the day.
Evidently correctly interpreting his mood as vile, they let him be, falling into the usual routine of rotating who went out front to deal with customers. The last person Jonah expected to see on the other side of the counter was Howard Danforth. He was in line behind two other people who’d showed up for lunch. Nothing about the guy specifically said villain, but there was no hiding the layer of entitlement that clung to him and his khakis and polished loafers like a stain. Entitled money spent just as well as the hard-earned kind, so Jonah resisted the urge to kick him out. Instead, he decided to do just a little poking.
“What can I get you today?”
“I’ll have the lunch special and a sweet tea to go.”
“Sure thing.” He punched in the order, calling it back to Brax, who was currently on sandwich assembly. “Can I ask you something?”
Howard went brows up. “I suppose so.”
“Did you go to high school with my parents?”
After a beat of hesitation, Danforth nodded. “Yes, I did. Long time ago. Why?”
“No reason. I was just looking through some of my dad’s stuff, going through old pictures and things. Saw some faces I recognized in some photos from back in the day, from what I was guessing was high school, and I wondered if that was actually you. It’s weird to think of my parents being that young.” And that was the God’s honest truth. Seeing them at half his own age, knowing his mom had been married and pregnant only a few years later, was straight up mind-boggling.
“You’re still going through your dad’s things? Didn’t he pass quite some time ago?”
Jonah jerked a shoulder as he rang up the order. “Yeah, he did. But I had a lot of stuff going on at the time, and my sister wasn’t interested in wading through it, so we just kind of tossed it all into storage until we had time to mess with it.”
Howard handed over his credit card to pay. “I was sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”
It was the sort of remark that was polite to make, and might not have made Jonah blink if his dad hadn’t been who he’d been and this man hadn’t been from a whole other world.
“We weren’t close. But thank you.”
Brax brought out the sandwich and tea. “Order up.”
Danforth took the bag with a nod and left.
“Was that wise?” Brax murmured.
“Don’t know. But I gave him a piece of information he didn’t have before. Let’s see what he does with it.”
Rachel hummed to herself as she unloaded groceries in the tiny cabin kitchen. She’d gone on a spree at Garden of Eden, wanting to cook something awesome and celebratory as a backdrop for finally telling Jonah about her job offer and admitting she didn’t want them to be over.
He’d been acting odd the last couple of days, and she figured that was entirely because he didn’t know what was happening. She was grateful to finally have an answer. Or at least one of the answers. There were still a million and one details to work out, but this somehow felt like one of the biggest.
If she hurried, she could get started on the puff pastry before Jonah got home. The thought made her pause, glancing around the cabin. It was odd to think of this place as home. To realize that some part of her already considered it hers. But it wasn’t about the space. It was about Jonah himself. He’d opened his life to her, and she wouldn’t take the gift of that for granted. Wouldn’t take him for granted. She was ready to fully open herself to love again. And wasn’t that a miracle after everything she’d been through?
Ingredients and bowls were scattered across the counter by the time the door opened and Jonah stepped inside.
He went brows up. “What’s all this?”
“The fixings for dinner. I thought I’d make beef Wellington.”
“Fancy.” He dropped his keys in a bowl by the door. “What’s the occasion?”
Nothing in his tone was anything but pleasant, but something in the carefully neutral expression he wore stopped her from saying, “We’re celebrating.” Instead, she wrapped the pastry in plastic wrap and put it into the fridge to chill. “It sounded good. And I really wanted to talk to you about something.”
His shoulders loosened a little, and only then did she realize how stiffly he’d been carrying himself. “I really wanted to talk to you, too. But you go first.”
As it was far too early to start the rest of dinner, and it would be some time before the pastry was ready to roll out and fold again, she had nothing to do with her hands. She’d wanted to broach this subject over a good meal, with a glass of wine.
The best laid plans.
Considering and rejecting different approaches as she washed her hands, she ultimately decided the Band-aid method would be best at this point. “I’m not going back to Syracuse. At least not to live.”
Jonah went still, all traces of emotion vanishing. God, she hoped this was his surprised and processing face.
“I already told you I needed a change. That I was thinking about relocating before I even got down here, and this was my chance to try out the small-town life.” She shrugged with a casualness she didn’t feel. “Turns out, I really like it. And, on top of that, I have to factor you in.”
Not wanting the little butcher block island between them, she circled around it, stepping closer to him. “When we started all this, it was supposed to be simple. Friends-with-benefits. But I think both of us can admit it’s become more than that. Neither of us is wired for casual to begin with, and circumstances maybe nudged us along some.”
He watched her come closer like some big jungle cat, those green eyes unreadable.
“We’re more than we intended to be. More than I ever expected to find again, and I don’t want to let that go.” When he said nothing, she swallowed and pushed on. “I know you like to have all the information and all the data and answers before you make a decision, so I’ve been working on a way I could realistically stay. I had a job interview this morning to be the new in-house baker at The Misfit Inn. It went really well. They want me to start tomorrow.”
“You found a job here?”
She couldn’t tell if that toneless reply was shock or disbelief.
“Yeah. The bakery is yours. I’d never presume to try to horn in on what you and the guys have built. I know this comes as a surprise, and I don’t want you to think this is supposed to be some kind of pressure. I’m not being presumptive or asking for some kind of commitment beyond where we already are right now, because I know a lot of things are up in the air. But we both put off talking about this way longer than we should have, and I just needed you to know where I stand. I’m in this with you. I want to see where it goes.”
As the seconds ticked by, Rachel realized that her hope he’d grab her in his arms and hold on, admitting he didn’t want to let her go either, wasn’t going to be realized. He’d barely moved since she’d begun talking. And, in fact, his face twisted, as if he was in pain. A sick feeling began to churn in her gut as he squared his shoulders.
“That’s not what we agreed to.”
Really? That’s what he was focusing in on? “I know that. But Jonah, you were the one who pushed for more. We became more. I don’t want to walk away from that. Do you?”
He broke his paralysis and began to pace, scrubbing a hand over his head, his fingers automatically seeking his scar, as they often did. “No. No, I don’t want to. But I have to.”
Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this. “What are you talking about?”
The eyes he fixed on hers were grim. Resigned. “I agreed to get involved with you on this level because it was temporary. Because you weren’t asking for a full-on relationship. And yeah, we definitely crossed a bridge and are more than we intended to be, but that doesn’t change the end result. I still can’t give you the kind of forever relationship you deserve. If I’d known it was going to be like this, I never would have said yes in the first place.”
If he’d taken out a combat knife and driven it into her heart, she’d have been less surprised.
“Why?” It was the only thing she could choke out around the pain blooming in her chest.
“Because it’s not what’s best for you.”
A thread of temper began to lick through the pain. “It’s not what’s best for me? And what exactly is best for me?”
“You deserve someone who will be there for you through thick and thin. Someone who will take care of you and respect you. Someone you can build the family you want with. Who you can grow old with.”
How could he not see himself in every one of those traits when she so clearly could?
“And that’s not you?”
“No. It’s not me. It’s never gonna be me.”
The finality in his tone had tears burning the back of her throat. “I don’t understand. Where the hell is this coming from? Why would you have pushed for more with me if you always had some kind of end in mind?”
“I wanted to give you as much of myself as I could for as long as I could. I thought it was the right thing, but in the end it was really selfish of me.” Looking miserable and full of regret, he dropped his hands. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
Oh, but he had. She’d begun this with her expectations managed, held in check. He’d been the one to give her so much more than she’d asked for. To show her what they could have together if only she risked the heart that had only just begun to beat again. And now he was taking it all away. The depth of that betrayal made her shake.
None of this was an explanation, but it was clear he’d made up his mind, made a decision for them both without even talking to her. Swallowing against the pain of that, and struggling to hold back the wave of tears that so desperately wanted to fall, she reached for the scraps of her pride. She’d given him everything else. She wouldn’t give him her devastation. “Fine. I’m not going to beg. I’m not going to force you into something you don’t want.”
He finally took a step closer, reaching out. “I’m not saying it’s over right now.”
“It sure as hell seems like you are.”
“We had an expiration date on this for a reason. I’m just saying we should stick to that.”
She stepped out of his reach. If he touched her, she’d break. “Well, it seems like we both miscalculated. I’m leaving.”
When he opened his mouth, no doubt to say something cautionary about her protection and safety, she just held up a hand. “I’m going to see Cayla. I’ll be back to get my things later so I can move to the inn.”
“Rachel—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.”
Skirting out of his reach, she snagged her purse and walked away from the man who’d just destroyed her heart.