Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The bakery smelled of warm butter, cinnamon, and the citrus peel I’d folded into the dough that morning. Usually, those smells comforted me. Grounded me. But today, they sat heavy in my chest, cloying almost, wrapping around a knot of anxiety that refused to loosen.
Ivy worked beside me at the counter, humming as she arranged pastries on trays. Every so often, she’d glance at me, eyebrows pinched, clearly waiting for me to speak.
But I couldn’t, not when every hour felt like sand sliding through my fingers, not even when I kept glancing at the door every time the bell chimed.
He said he would come. He promised.
The day felt too bright outside, too crisp, too alive for what my chest felt like. Snow glistened along the square. Horses clopped past pulling a small sleigh for the Winter Wonderland rides, and children in scarves nearly twice their size darted across the entry path, laughing.
Pine Hollow never looked more beautiful. And somehow, never more fragile.
The bell chimed again. And this time… it was him. Oliver stepped inside, brushing snow from his coat, his hair dusted with flakes that melted into dark curls. He looked tired, more than tired, like he’d spent the entire day wrestling with ghosts. Our eyes met. And everything in me settled.
He managed a small smile. Not his usual one. Not the warm, crooked grin he gave me at the carousel or the soft, private smile he’d given me in bed that morning. This one was sad. Soft. Almost apologetic and my breath became a little uneven.
“Ivy,” I said quietly, “can you… cover the counter for a minute?”
Her gaze flicked between us. Concern. Curiosity. Sympathy. “Of course.”
I wiped my hands on my apron and stepped out from behind the counter, heart knocking against my ribs. Oliver waited by a table near the window, the one he always gravitated toward, the one with the view of the square and its towering Christmas tree.
Snow fell behind him, catching in the golden lights strung across the windows. Everything looked picture-perfect. Except I could already feel the crack in the center of it. He didn’t sit. Neither did I.
“Brianna…” His voice was low. Unsteady.
My throat tightened. “What’s happened?”
He swallowed, eyes flicking briefly to the floor before returning to mine. There was a softness in them, but also a weight and heaviness that told me the answer before he even spoke.
“My flight is booked for the morning.”
It felt like the world shifted two inches to the left.
“Oh.” Barely a word. Barely breathing.
He stepped closer, slow, hesitant. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. I wanted–God, I wanted to stay. But my mother… She needs me home. And with everything going on, the estate, the family– This was the only flight available,” He exhaled shakily. “I have to go.”
Tears pricked the back of my eyes so fast I almost blinked them away out of pure instinct. Of course he had to go. This was reality catching up with us. This was always coming.
“I understand,” I managed, though my voice came out thin. Fragile.
Did I really? I wasn’t sure I did.
“Bri…” He reached for my hand, fingers brushing mine with a gentleness that made my chest ache. “I will be back.”
“Will you really though?” The words escaped before I could stop them, raw and small.
Emotion flickered in his eyes–pain, frustration, longing.
“I just need time to sort things out,” he said. “I need to get things in order. And when I’ve done that… I’ll come back.” His voice thickened. “I will come back.”
“But you’re not telling me everything.” My voice broke. “This doesn’t seem fair.”
He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening. “I know. And I hate it. But if I tell you now, before things are secure, before I’ve put everything in place, it could go wrong. It could fall through. And I won’t risk giving you false hope.”
Something inside my chest clenched hard. Tears blurred my vision despite my best effort to swallow them down. He stepped closer.
“Please don’t think I’m walking away from what we’ve started here.”
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I turned my face away, embarrassed, but his hand gently caught my chin, guiding me back to him.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
I did. And there it was, everything he wasn’t saying. Everything he felt and everything that terrified both of us.
“I don’t want to leave,” he murmured. “Not even for a day. But I have to. And I promise you, I am not done here.”
My breath shuddered. “What if… what if things change when you go back?”
His thumb brushed my cheek. “The only thing that’s changed is finding you.”
My eyes fell closed for a moment, overwhelmed. When I opened them, he was watching me with such tenderness that it only deepened the ache.
“How long will you be gone?” I whispered.
He hesitated. “I’m not really sure. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
He didn’t know, he could be gone weeks, maybe even months.
I wasn’t sure how I felt thinking about the time away from each other.
I just nodded, because I couldn’t trust my voice anymore.
Oliver pulled me gently into his arms, right there in the quiet of the bakery, and I let myself lean into him, let myself breathe him in.
Cedar, cold air, something warm and familiar I wasn’t ready to lose. His hand stroked slowly down my back.
“I’ll come back,” he murmured into my hair. “I swear it.”
I clung to him, eyes closed, heart breaking and hopeful all at once.
When he finally pulled away, he kissed my forehead, lingering for a heartbeat that felt like a promise.
“I will see you when you close okay.” he said softly.
“Okay, I will make us something special for dinner.” I whispered.
He left the bakery, disappearing into the falling snow. And when the bell jingled behind him, it felt like something in my chest went with him.