46. Coraline
46
CORALINE
The sweet smell of buttercream frosting and fresh-baked vanilla cake fills the air as I pipe delicate rosettes. Two dozen perfect dairy-free vanilla cupcakes topped with pale pink rosettes, ready for Mrs. Matthews’ granddaughter’s baby shower.
I place four on a pretty blue platter and bring them to the front of the bakery. I grab a couple staging supplies and set up my ring light. Once I’m satisfied with the angles and the colors, I snap some photos.
A text notification comes through.
Grant: I’m growing impatient, Coraline.
Then another.
Grant: I’m done with these games.
And another.
Grant: Time to come back to where you belong.
They keep rolling in, one after another like he’s hitting send after every thought instead of sending one big text.
Grant: I told you that she meant nothing to me.
Grant: What more do you want from me?
Grant: A man has needs, Coraline.
Grant: It’s not my fault I had to get my needs met elsewhere.
Grant: Stop acting like a bitch.
And that’s enough for one day. I move to his contact and block him. I should’ve done it weeks ago honestly.
I sigh, turn up my music, and get back to work.
My internet besties are going to love the way the pink pops against the blue platter and white marble countertop. It sort of reminds me of Barbie pink, just a couple shades lighter.
I sing along to the playlist as I take a few more photos at different angles, adjusting the light settings. With a satisfied sigh, I box up Mrs. Matthews’ cupcakes and start cleaning up.
I stifle a yawn, my eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Sleep has been elusive these past two nights, ever since I left the sanctuary of Jasper’s lake house.
I thought I’d be okay, being at my house all alone. And for the most part, I am. But I’ve never been more aware of every creak and groan of the apartment. I never realized how noisy it is until now. Or how afraid I am of being alone in the dark.
Or maybe I’m just scared of being caught off guard by those guys again.
I gently press my fingertips to the tender skin underneath my eye. It’s faded a little, enough that I think I can reasonably conceal it with a little makeup. I thought about not covering it up out of spite or some kind of fuck you to those assholes, but I realized it’s not worth answering all the questions everyone would have.
I started sleeping with a baseball bat propped up against my nightstand. And I got the money from the bank, so I’ll be ready when they come back again. I wish there was a way for me to just pay them and be done with it. All this waiting around for them to just show up has me on edge. But short of asking around how to find some guys whose last names I don’t even know, I don’t have another option.
Nana Jo believed in me. She believed I could do this—start my own bakery. Every time my mom voiced her doubt about me opening up my own bakery, Nana Jo would have my back. And it was the ultimate stamp of approval when she left me money specifically for a bakery when she passed.
I can’t just give up now. I feel guilty enough asking my brother for help. I thought about asking Jasper for help, but it seems like a big ask. It seems like the kind of thing you’d lean on your significant other for, a loophole to me doing everything on my own.
But is that really us? Are we significant others yet?
We started this thing as a ruse. A mutually beneficial scheme. And when I’m with him, it’s easy to pretend that it’s real. His feelings, his words, his actions. They’re all motivated by genuine interest in me. But it’s like once I leave the twenty-foot radius that is Jasper Devereaux, reality seeps in, reminding me that I’ve done this before. With other men and him. And they always end up the same way. At least with Jasper, we have an agreement, so I won’t be blindsided.
A knock on the front door startles me out of my thoughts.
I glance at the clock on the wall and see it’s a little after ten, which is too early for Mrs. Matthews to be picking up her order. Wiping my hands on a towel, I head to the front, plastering on a friendly smile.
But it’s not Mrs. Matthews waiting on the other side of the glass door. It’s Jasper, looking like a dark fantasy come to life in his faded black tee and worn jeans. My heart does a funny little flip at the sight of him.
I unlock the door and open it wide, my pulse quickening at the sight of him. God, if I close my eyes, I can almost imagine him inside of me again.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask, aiming for casual but my voice comes out a little breathless.
He steps inside, his eyes doing a quick scan of the bakery before settling on me. "I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by and see my girl." His voice is low and warm, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Your girl, huh?” I muse, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at his words. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
He arches a brow, that tempting smirk pulling up the side of his mouth. “Oh, are we back to that now, baby?”
He steps closer, crowding me against the wall near the door and kicking it closed behind him. One hand finds my waist, his thumb rubbing gentle circles through the fabric of my apron.
“What are you doing?” I breathe out, my hands landing on his biceps, my fingers digging into his muscle.
“Reminding you who you belong to,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble I swear I feel all the way in my core.
His lips descend on mine, capturing me in a searing kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. It’s the kind of kiss that consumes you, so good that you’ll willingly let it just for another taste of euphoria.
His tongue sweeps inside, tangling with mine in a sensual dance that feels more like battle. It lasts an eternity and a second, this place where time ceases to exist and everything begins and ends with us.
I'm breathless when we finally part, my lips tingling from the intensity of his kiss. Jasper rests his forehead against mine, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at me.
“How about that, baby, mm? You remember now?” he murmurs, his voice rough.
My lips twist to the side and my fingers play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck as I pretend to think about it. “I don’t know. I think I might need another reminder.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Don’t be a brat, baby.” He dips his head to drag his lips across mine once more, murmuring, “Did I forget to mention that I brought you lunch?” He holds up a brown paper bag next to us.
I arch a brow and laugh. “Have you been holding it this whole time?”
“You’re not very observant, baby,” he chastises with a grin, stepping back. “I wanted to see you and you need to eat.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s barely past ten in the morning.”
Jasper shrugs, that infuriatingly sexy smirk still playing on his lips. “Brunch, then. C’mon, baby, take a break and eat pizza with me.”
He grabs my hand, tugging me gently toward the counter where I stashed a couple stools. The simple touch sends a thrill through me, a reminder of how easily he affects me. I do my best to shake it off and pull out a couple of paper plates and napkins as he takes the food out.
“Is that from The Slice?” I grin, a little skip in my step.
The Slice is in downtown Rosewood. It’s consistently voted the best thin-crust pizza place in the region, and they happen to make some of the most unique pizzas I’ve ever seen. They have the classic topping options, of course, but they do a daily, sometimes weekly, specialty pizza. And their slices are gigantic, like twice the size of a normal triangle slice of pizza.
“Sure is,” Jasper says, opening the triangle-shaped pizza boxes. He points at each one. “Wisconsin, vegan mac ’n cheese, and the drunk rav.”
“I’ve tried the drunk rav before, and let me tell you vodka sauce and smoked raviolis really work on a pizza. You definitely need a disco nap afterward though.” I cut each piece in half so we both can try each of them.
He looks at me, his dark eyes sparkling in this light. “Looks like you need a couch in here, baby.”
I roll my eyes at his insinuation. “I mean, I do, but not for napping. For customers. Eventually.”
Jasper chuckles and hands me a slice of the Wisconsin pizza. “Until then, we’ll have to save our disco naps for my place.”
I take a big bite, savoring the blend of five Wisconsin cheeses, the zesty tomato sauce, and the slices of bratwurst. A small moan of appreciation escapes my lips. “God, this is amazing. Thank you for bringing it.” I didn’t realize how hungry I was until right now.
He grins, taking a bite of his own slice. "Anything for my girl."
There it is again. My girl . The words send a little thrill through me each time he says them.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds in the bakery are the music playing and the occasional appreciative hum from one of us.
“Should I expect to see this as your caption tomorrow?” he asks, nodding toward the speaker in the corner.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Gotta keep you guessing.” I bite the inside of my cheek to curb my smile as I reach for a slice of the vegan mac ’n cheese pizza. My phone vibrates insistently on the counter—a video call. I glance at the screen and see my mom’s beautiful face.
“Sorry, one sec, it’s my mom,” I say to Jasper, swiping a napkin across my mouth and answering the phone.
“Coraline? Coraline, where are you?” Mom’s breathless, not even giving me a chance to answer her.
My heart kicks inside my chest and I lean forward. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Oh, honey, where are you?” She sounds distracted, but her face is so close to the screen, I can’t make out where she is right now.
“I’m at the bakery. Where are you? You’re kind of frozen right now.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m worried about you right now!” she yells, panic threaded in every syllable.
I shake my head, my brows sinking together. “What’s going on? You’re not making any sense.”
“They’re calling it a serial killer— a serial killer !” Her voice hits a full octave higher on those last few words.
“Mom,” I snap, my heart racing now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Like some kind of Pavlovian response, anytime my mom gets worked up or scared, I do too.
“Oh for goodness’ sake, Cora, turn on the news once in a while, would you?” she says, exasperation dripping from every word.
I exhale and glance at Jasper. He’s got his phone in front of his face, the screen illuminating his sharp jawline. Ugh, he even looks good in that bright phone screen lighting.
“Well, I’m working so why don’t you just tell me what’s going on.”
She sighs, like she’s so put out for having to explain it even though she called me in the first place. “It’s breaking news, Cora. They found two bodies in the park around the block from your house.”
I shake my head, still not understanding. “Okay, that’s terrible, but I don’t get how that means it’s a serial killer.”
“And how would you know so much about serial killers?” she asks, her tone suspicious, but it’s hard to tell because she’s all pixelated and semi-frozen. Her audio is working okay though.
“I watch a lot of true crime, Mom, you know this.” I sigh.
“Okay, well did you know that this is the fourth crime scene and the third and fourth bodies? This serial killer has left the same marker or calling card or whatever it’s called at each of their crime scenes, that’s how the cops know.”
“Jesus,” I mutter as understanding dawns. “When did this happen? How come I haven’t heard of anything until right now?”
“Well, I don’t know. Probably because you get all your news from the internet,” she drawls.
Which is fair, to be honest. I can’t remember the last time I watched the news—and definitely not on my TV.
“And I don’t know, honey. I guess the cops didn’t put it all together until tonight. The first murder happened six weeks ago or so. Right on highway MA, but it was on the Maple Grove side of the road.”
There’s a road that runs right down the city line between Avalon Falls and Maple Grove. The left hand side is Avalon Falls, and across the street is Maple Grove. It’s mostly big plots of residential areas over there, the kind of places with a few acres of land per home.
“Did they say who it was? Any of the victims, I mean.” I’m almost too scared to ask. But my roommates faces are flashing before my eyes, and I haven’t actually laid eyes on any of them in weeks now. I’m praying that they’re all still safe and busy with their respective vacations or boyfriends’ houses.
“No, not yet. They haven’t released any names. All they’re saying is two male victims.”
I exhale, relief weighing my shoulders down. I’m going to text my roommates as soon as I hang up with Mom and make sure they’re all okay.
No sooner than I think that, a new thought slams into me. My brothers live in Avalon Falls— Jasper lives in Avalon Falls.
I look over at him, wide eyes and panic lancing between my ribs and piercing my heart.
You live there , I mouth to him.
He reaches over and covers my hand with his, squeezing it gently. “I’ll be fine, baby,” he murmurs quietly.
“Cora? Are you still there?” Mom asks.
I look at my phone. “Yeah, sorry, Mom. I gotta go, okay? Thanks for telling me. Did you talk to Beau and Graham already?”
“They were my first calls, honey. They brushed me off, but I’m going to make your father talk to them too.”
“Okay, keep me posted if you hear anything else, okay? Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, sweetheart. I will.”
She ends the call, and I clench my phone in my hand.
“I’m a Reaper, baby, I’ll be fine,” he assures me.
I exhale. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you're right."
Despite his assurances, worry coils tight in my gut. I can't shake the feeling that something terrible is looming on the horizon, a dark shadow creeping closer.
I set my phone down and rub my temples, trying to dispel the growing unease. Jasper's hand covers mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my skin.
"Hey," he says softly, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. "It's gonna be okay, baby. I promise."