Chapter 43 Callie
Callie
After dropping Nora off at my parents’ house, I head straight to Lakeshore Sweets.
This place is the one corner of my life I built entirely on my own. The ovens. The recipes. The early mornings and long days. There’s a rhythm to baking that usually quiets the noise in my head.
Flour. Sugar. Butter.
Stir. Scoop. Bake.
It’s simple, soothing, and predictable.
But not today.
No matter how many muffins I mix or croissants I roll out, my thoughts won’t stay put. They keep drifting back to last night like a song stuck on repeat.
To River’s face as he circled the ice.
To Zane watching me from across the arena.
To the moment River’s mouth met mine in the dark.
As much as I try to shake them off and focus on the dough beneath my hands, the memories won’t stay silent.
They’re loud and tangled.
And they’re taking up way too much space in a mind that usually finds peace in precision.
Two hours later, the front door swings open with a gust of cold air that sends a shiver down my spine. Sloane breezes in, bundled up in an olive-green utility jacket over her sweatshirt, with cheeks that are flushed from the wind.
She stops short the moment she sees me behind the counter, and her eyes narrow. “Uh-oh. Is it really so bad that you’re stress baking?”
I glance up from the tray of cinnamon rolls I’m icing, and force a tight smile. “This isn’t stress baking.”
She drops her purse on the counter with a thud. “Please. I’ve been around long enough to know what you look like when you’re mentally spiraling.”
“I do run a bakery,” I remind her, gesturing to the register. “Some of this is kind of required. We already have orders to fill.”
She arches a brow. “Callie. It’s Wednesday. All the pre-orders are filled. Unless someone booked a party I don’t know about, no one needs twelve trays of cinnamon rolls before ten a.m.”
She glances around, eyeing the croissants cooling on the racks and the double batch of muffins on the prep table.
“From the looks of it, you’ve been here a while.”
“Since five,” I admit.
“That tells me everything I need to know.” She’s already shrugging out of her coat and pushing through the swinging kitchen door. “I’m texting the girls.”
“Sloane,” I groan. “That’s not—”
She waves me off, pulling out her phone like someone summoning backup to a crime scene. Her fingers fly across the screen.
Sloane: SOS at the bakery.
Lilah: OMG. What’s going on? I’m not even out of bed yet.
Rina: I was headed to the arena, but I’ll swing by the bakery instead. Make sure there’s a cinnamon hustler waiting. Extra dirty.
Sloane: Girl… we all know how you like it dirty.
Rina:
Lilah: It is way too early for this.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop a small smile from breaking through. The kind that sneaks in, even when everything inside me feels twisted and uncertain.
No matter how bad things feel, these women show up every single time.
And somehow, knowing they’re on their way makes everything feel a little more manageable.
“I haven’t even told you anything,” I say.
“You didn’t have to,” Sloane replies, pulling mugs from the cabinet. “We’ve indulged in enough late-night wine and post-breakup debriefs for me to recognize all the classic signs.”
She hands me a mug of fresh coffee before giving me a wink. “Drink that. We’ll talk when the whole crew gets here.”
Forty minutes later, the bakery is quiet again, the morning rush leaving behind an empty pastry case with a few stray crumbs. I join the girls at the table near the window, where Lilah and Rina are already seated with a platter of pastries between them.
Lilah peels apart a croissant, her eyes locked on me. “Okay. Spill.”
I slide into the empty seat and wrap my hands around my mug. The warmth seeps into my fingers, but it doesn’t quite make it to my chest.
All three watch me without judgment. Just patient, steady concern. It’s more appreciated than any of them realize.
I let out a slow exhale. “It’s Zane.”
With a groan, Rina rolls her eyes. “Of course it is.”
Sloane leans back in her chair as she crosses her arms loosely in front of her. “What happened?”
“The guy was a real dick on the ice to River,” Rina mutters. “I was this close to marching down there and beating him with his own stick.”
“I would’ve actually paid money to see that,” Lilah says with a snort.
Rina raises a brow. “Now you tell me.”
Lifting her mug, Lilah’s gaze slides to mine. “Sorry. Got distracted by the mental image. Please continue.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. Even now, they manage to make me smile. But it fades as quickly as it came.
I set my mug down and say what I’ve been holding in all morning. “After the game last night, Zane told me that he wants to get back together. He wants us to be a family again for Nora’s sake. That he’s changed.”
The silence that follows is instant and heavy.
None of them speak at first, and I don’t blame them.
“He also paid off the bakery loan,” I add. “All of it. Lakeshore Sweets belongs to me now. Free and clear.”
Rina is the first to recover as she sits up straighter.
“That’s… unexpected.” Her expression twists into a frown.
“And what about Gigi? Wasn’t she supposed to be the love of his reality TV life?
” There’s a pause. “Hold up.” She unlocks her phone and starts typing.
“I think Railers Rumors posted pics of them at a club after the game.”
I blink. “Are you sure it was taken last night? Maybe they’re old photos.”
She hands me the phone, and the second my eyes land on the first image, my stomach drops. His lip is split and he’s wearing the same clothes he had on after the game.
And there’s at least half a dozen of them. In every single one, Zane and Gigi are tangled up in each other, grinding against one another, laughing, kissing like nothing in the world exists but the camera and the attention it brings.
More confusion crashes over me as I stare at the photos.
Why would he go out of his way to lie to me?
I don’t understand any of this.
Lilah reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “I’m sorry, Callie. I know he said all the right things, but I just don’t think he’s being genuine.”
“No,” I murmur. “It certainly doesn’t seem like it.”
With a tilt of her head, Sloane asks quietly, “Are you one hundred percent sure he’s the one who paid off the loan?”
My head snaps up. “He told me he did when I asked about it.”
Rina and Sloane exchange a quiet, knowing look. It’s enough to send a ripple of unease through me.
“Callie,” Rina says gently, “I’d verify that information before you take his word for it.”
I take a sip of coffee to buy myself a moment, but instead of offering comfort, it scorches all the way down.
“Maybe what I need to do is talk to Zane,” I say, setting the mug down.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Lilah agrees.
“You’ve been asking him to step up for years,” Sloane adds. “And now, only after you’ve started something with another man, he suddenly decides to act?”
“Honestly,” Rina cuts in, “I’m not convinced he did anything except muddy the waters because he doesn’t like seeing you move on. It has nothing to do with Nora and everything to do with control.”
Lilah tears off another piece of croissant. “What does River think about all this?”
My throat tightens. “River’s been everything Zane never was. He’s steady and kind. Nora adores him. And I…” My words trail off. “I think I’m falling in love with him.”
Lilah rubs circles on my back. “Then let yourself fall.”
“It’s not that simple,” I admit.
“Sure it is,” Rina says, her tone blunt but not unkind. “Zane talks a good game. River lives it. One’s a performance. The other’s real.”
“You don’t need someone who says he’s changed,” Sloane adds. “You need someone who shows you every single day without asking for credit.”
I stare into my coffee as their words settle within me, heavier than I expected. “It’s hard to believe Zane would lie about paying off my loan. That he’d take credit for something another man did.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, doubt creeps in. If there’s one thing Zane’s always been good at, it’s bending reality to fit his narrative.
“That’s exactly what you need to find out,” Lilah says gently. “You deserve the truth so you can make a decision based on facts, not assumptions.”
The door opens, and my head snaps up, a spark of hope flaring before I can stop it. But it’s just the delivery guy, balancing a crate of milk and cream in his arms.
The breath I’ve been holding slips out in a shaky exhale, and I press a hand to my chest, as if it will calm the pounding underneath.
It doesn’t.
I go through the motions of signing the receipt, offering a polite smile, and thanking him, but my thoughts are all over the place.
They’re still caught on the phone call from the bank.
On the weight of the loan hanging over my head for years.
And the quiet, steady man who has shown up for me in ways I never asked for but desperately needed.
Deep down, in a place that realized the truth long before logic caught up, I already know who paid off the debt.
It wasn’t Zane.
It was River.
It’s always been River.
The man who let me and my daughter move into his home without hesitation. Who gave me his bed, his trust, and his protection without needing anything in return.
The man who didn’t need to say the right things because his actions have always spoken louder than his words.
He’s been there.
Every single time.
Without questions or conditions.
And suddenly, the weight of the lies Zane fed me feels suffocating.
“Sloane,” I say quietly, setting my coffee down on the table. “Would you mind holding down the bakery for a bit? I need to take care of something.”
Her eyes narrow, already sensing the direction this is going. “Where are you headed?”
“Zane’s place,” I say as I rise to my feet and untie my apron. “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation.”
Sloane nods. “Of course.”
“I’ll stay and help too,” Lilah says, rising and gathering empty mugs. “Go get your answers.”
“Same,” Rina chimes in, already pulling her long dark hair into a high ponytail. “I’m in full-on avoidance mode today anyway.”
“Oh?” Lilah smirks. “Let me guess… Oliver finally figured out what being auctioned off actually means?”
A slow grin tugs at the corner of Rina’s mouth. “Bingo. The look on his face was priceless. I haven’t laughed that hard in weeks.”
A reluctant smile lifts my lips as I shake my head. “You’re so bad.”
“Guilty as charged,” Rina says with zero remorse. “He should try to remember that more often.”
“Thank you,” I say, glancing at each of them in turn. Their support isn’t flashy, but it’s solid and steady.
Much like River.
As I make my way to the door, Rina calls out, “Let us know if you need backup. I’m only half joking.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I toss over my shoulder as relief threads through me.
For the first time all day, I feel a little more grounded and a little less like I’m unraveling at the seams.