24. Sunrises And Cinnabons
CHAPTER 24
SUNRISES AND CINNABONS
NORA
The morning air nips at my skin, sharp enough to pull me fully into wakefulness as Jake and I pedal hard up the hill. It's the magical hour just before sunrise. The world is bathed in a soft, golden glow, as if holding its breath. Jake was always the most nostalgic one out of the four of us. He loved holding onto memories, and I didn't fault him for it. But holding onto the past is like clutching a handful of water—no matter how tightly you grip, it always slips through your fingers, leaving only a lingering coolness and the wet traces of what once was.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Jake's relaxed profile, touched by the pink hues of the dawning sky. When he notices me looking, his grin widens, those familiar crinkles appearing by his eyes—his real smile. It's such a small thing, but right now, it's everything.
We reach the cliff just in time. I drop my bike on the soft grass and rush to the edge. The view takes my breath away: the ocean stretches out, a vast expanse of shimmering gold.
Jake settles beside me, his knee lightly brushing against mine. We sit in silence, the kind that's as comfortable and familiar as an old favorite song, filling the space between us without needing words.
After a moment, Jake's voice breaks the calm, gentle yet tentative. "You know you can talk to me, right? About your dad. About anything." His tone is soft but there's an earnestness to it, probing the waters of my grief.
I swallow hard, feeling the heaviness of his words. The grief and guilt are always there, lurking in the shadows like persistent fog, refusing to be chased away by the rising sun. Jake shifts closer, his shoulder pressing against mine, his presence a steady warmth.
"I'm here," he murmurs. "Whether you talk or not, I'm here."
His words settle deep in my chest, warming yet breaking me all at once. I tear at the blades of grass, not daring to meet his eyes—searching for the cracks I tirelessly try to seal. You don't tell people you're not okay because it's too hard to watch them struggle with what to do. You’ll find yourself comforting them, even though you're the one who needs comfort.
Jake exhales a slow, deliberate breath. I feel his gaze, steady and earnest, as if he could make me believe simply through the force of his will. "You don't have to pretend with me, Nor."
I keep my eyes fixed on the ground. Looking at him would probably break me. My fingers clench around the grass, its sharp scent rising in the cool morning air. Sadness starts to well up again, swelling in my chest, thickening my throat until I can barely breathe.
He shifts beside me, his presence a silent plea for me to let him in. He doesn't have to say anything; I feel his desire to understand, to take away the pain. He's always been like that—ready to drown in my sorrows just to spare me the weight. But some burdens are mine alone. Not because he isn't willing to share them, but because some parts of grief are too personal, too raw to hand over, even to him.
"I know," I murmur, watching the sunlight spill across the cliffside, painting everything with a golden glow. "I'm just… still trying to figure out how to be okay."
I shift the focus away from my inner turmoil and divert the conversation. "Are you excited about Duke?"
He stretches out, looking thoughtful against the backdrop of the rising sun. "Yeah, I guess. I mean it's kinda terrifying. Feels surreal, like one chapter's ending without knowing what the next one holds."
"Is it what you want to be doing, for real?" I probe, needing to steer away from my own uncertain future.
He laughs, a sound tinged with unease. "I guess. There's a lot I still need to sort out."
The conversation shifts again, and suddenly, Jake's tone grows serious. "Your mom mentioned last year was tough with the kids at school. Did any of them show up at the funeral?" His question makes me uncomfortable because it brings to light things I've tried to bury.
No, not one.
By then, my tarnished reputation had driven everyone away.
"You were there. That's all that mattered," I say, managing a weak smile that doesn't quite mask the pain.
His eyes soften, filled with a mix of understanding and something else—perhaps a wish to offer more comfort. He nods, looking back toward the horizon where the sun climbs higher, igniting the sky with shades of orange and pink.
Inside, the turmoil doesn't cease. The ghosts of last summer, the whispers of Evan, the echoes of Claire who claimed to be my best friend, and the crushing weight of shame swirl around me. The worst of it is the last real conversation with my dad, that's where the guilt stems from. He had seen the signs and recognized my silent pleas for help. Now, he's gone, and with him, the last shred of understanding I had clung to.
Jake's question snaps me out of my thoughts.
"Where'd you get the bracelet? I haven't seen that one before."
I look down at the thin band Nate picked for me at the carnival.
"Nate won it for me," I say quietly. Jake's expression shifts, a flicker of something passing over his face.
"Oh, right." His voice has an edge to it now, and I can tell he's holding something back.
Jake's always been great at hiding his feelings, but I feel the tension between us about the whole Nate thing.
He doesn't say anything for a moment, just draws patterns in the dirt with his finger. Then he looks up, his eyes steady on mine.
I shift, trying to steer the conversation away from heavy stuff.
"So, what about Kelsie?"
"What about Kelsie?" he asks.
"I saw you two at the party, then the bonfire, and at the carnival too. She seems really into you."
Jake laughs, brushing off the idea. “There’s nothing going on there. Besides, I’m waiting."
"For what?"
"For the right one.” That makes my face heat up and I'm not entirely sure why. Something about the way he's waiting for someone he seems to already know freaks me out a bit. I force a laugh, trying to shake off the weird mood.
“What's next on the list to tackle today?" I ask, desperate to keep things light.
Jake brightens up, back to his usual self. "Eat our body weight in Cinnabons.” He grins like he's just solved all the world's problems.
"That I can do," I joke, grateful for the change of topic.
We hop on our bikes, pedaling towards Corrigan's, the cool morning air and the warm rising sun painting everything like a postcard. For a moment, I let myself believe everything can be as simple as bike rides and cinnabons.
The bakery wraps us in its warm embrace of cinnamon and sugar, a haven unchanged by time's cruel march. My stomach growls appreciatively at the fresh-baked aroma, earning a smothered laugh from Jake.
"Four of your finest Cinnabons, please," he announces, sliding cash across the counter. "Actually, make it twelve."
"You really weren't kidding about eating our body weight in Cinnabons, huh?"
"You only live once," he winks.
As Jake handles the transaction, my attention drifts to the window. That's when everything shifts—my skin prickles with awareness, my heart stutters, then races. I freeze, ice replacing blood in my veins as I spot him.
Evan.
He's across the street, surrounded by Eden's elite, laughing like he's never destroyed a life. My stomach twists into origami shapes, a silent scream building behind my ribs. The bakery door might as well be a fortress wall for how impossible it feels to move. Each second that ticks by feels like an eternity. Panic floods my system, my breathing shallow and quick as my body reacts before my mind can catch up.
Breathe.
I command myself.
Just breathe.
But the air feels like broken glass in my lungs. Pressure builds in my chest, my throat closing like it's caught in a vice. Each heartbeat sends ice through my veins, crashing against my skull with brutal force.
Breathe.
My next inhale catches, too fast and too shallow, as control slips through my fingers like water. The room starts to spin, simultaneously too quick and too slow. I dig crescents into my palms, trying to force my breathing into something resembling rhythm.
I'm not dying in a bakery , I repeat silently, searching for an anchor. It's all in my head. I'm in control. But watching him stand there, carelessly destructive, the bitter truth crashes over me—I'm nowhere near in control.
This panic isn't just in my head. It's real, visceral, consuming.
He's real.
And he's here.
The bakery dissolves around me. I'm back in that room last summer, frozen, powerless. His threats echo in my ears, venomous promises that sealed my silence. Every buried fear claws its way to the surface, leaving me raw.
"Hey.” Jake's voice cuts through the fog, concern bleeding through.
"Nora? You okay?" I nod mechanically.
"Yeah... yeah, I just..." My voice wavers before I steady it. "Could we get these to go? I'm feeling off."
Jake's expression tightens with worry, but he doesn't push. "Sure," he says, guiding us out quickly, reading my desperate need to escape.
I follow, eyes down, feeling Evan's gaze burn into my back. Despite Jake's protective presence, loneliness pounds through me like a second heartbeat.
As we pedal home, the world blurs into watercolor smears, indistinguishable from my churning thoughts. Jake keeps glancing over, concern etched deep, but I keep my eyes forward, not daring to meet him.
How do I admit that Evan being here has shattered my carefully reconstructed sense of safety?
The wind whips past, but it's nothing compared to the hurricane inside me. Gripping the handlebars, one thought crystallizes with terrifying clarity: I'm nowhere near ready to face him.