2. Hannah
CHAPTER 2
hannah
My EarPods blast Florence and the Machine as I flow through the same early morning routine I’ve had since I was a teenager. My family owns Bean Haven, the only coffee shop in our small town of Aspen Ridge, Washington. The storefront sits on Main Street, a gorgeous, weathered brick building nestled up between Book Bound, an indie bookstore, and Rosemary and Runes Apothecary, with alleyways just wide enough for a vehicle separating them. My grandparents opened it a few decades ago and it’s been a town staple ever since. I’m biased but I think we have the best spot on Main Street.
The dough deflates slowly under the weight of my hands, and I lose myself to a steady rhythm. I knead what will turn into my cinnamon rolls, working it by hand the way my grandmother taught me. I was barely old enough to see over the counter when she first let me help her in the bakery’s kitchen. The fact that both of my sisters were either too young, or too busy to be bothered with learning her craft—one filled with love and passion—made it even more personal for me. It was something just she and I shared, and that same love and passion fuels me to this day.
The air was thick with the scent of butter, sugar, and cinnamon, just as it always is, and I remember how she pulled over a stool and dropped the first heap of dough onto the floured surface of the butcher block table with a loud thwack. She dug her palms into the squishy mass, pressing and moving with this steady, hypnotic rhythm, working the dough until she was satisfied, like it was as natural as breathing.
My grandmother is known for being loud, brash, and unfiltered—notoriously so—but when she baked, she created a silent magic that I was captured by. She gave me patience, something that was rare for me to feel. The lines around her eyes softened, and her smile was delicate and encouraging as she showed me how to fold the dough, how to knead it just right, how to feel the texture, to know when it was done, sharing her secret that it was all in your hands and intuition. She taught me everything I know, and baking is just as much a part of who I am as it is her.
Ever since that first day with my grandmother, I found any excuse to be in the kitchen with her, where she taught me how to bake her recipes. As I got older, it became therapeutic for me, a way to channel all of my teenage angst and hormonal rage that had nowhere to go, and it has never felt like work—despite what my family believes. Running this place fills me with purpose and joy, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Over the last few years, I’ve taken over running Bean Haven, revamping the interior decor to something livelier and more enticing for customers. My best friend Liam repainted the walls to a creamy off-white, leaving the fourth in its natural brick red. Bean Haven is painted in a gorgeous loopy font above the counter in a deep green. Live plants hang from the ceiling in some of the corners, while others are in huge wicker baskets that I’ve placed strategically throughout the room. It’s got a lively bohemian vibe that I live for and matches my personality, while also making my grandmother proud.
Last night I exhausted myself once again, stressing about my current situation. I can’t even call Levi my boyfriend anymore because he’s never around. I feel this inherent need to keep fighting for him to be in our lives because he’s my daughter’s father. But as I’ve had to learn—unfortunately the hard way—we can’t force anyone to be in our lives. Plans change. Just like people, hopes, and dreams. If Charlie and I were important, Levi would be here. Full stop. He would be with us every moment he wasn’t out at sea. He would be calling, he’d be aching to be home with us—a place that I’ve only ever shared with my daughter.
After I got pregnant with her, my grandmother offered to turn the loft above Bean Haven into an apartment for me to start a life, and I assumed Levi would join me. But not long after we remodeled the place, Levi was hired on a commercial fishing vessel out of Seattle, and he never moved in. I was left alone the majority of the time.
I’ve always been quite the loner, always keeping people at arm’s length but never letting them get closer. My sisters, Harlow and Hailey, would visit fairly regularly, but having their own lives, they just wanted a place to hide out from our parents and their strict rules. My best friend, Liam, is over all the time since we’re still as inseparable as we were twenty years ago. He’s what’s kept me sane all these years. My rock.
I am not my parents’ favorite person. I know they love me and love Charlie, but I’m their college dropout, pregnant out of wedlock, misbehaving, rebellious child, even though I have grown up so much over the last four years. I feel the weight of their disappointment like a heavy cloud, blanketing me anytime I give it thought.
Transferring the dough to a bowl to proof, I dump a fully- proofed ball onto my floured surface, rolling it out until it’s flat and glossy, brushing butter across its surface. I follow up with a heavy dusting of cinnamon, sugar, and a special ingredient, before rolling it together and cutting it into round pieces. Between prepping the ingredients and baking all of the pastries for the day, I wake up at three in the morning to get down here.
We open at 5 a.m. and it’s always a hustle of listening to the bell chime announcing a customer, and baking in the back. Luckily, we close at three during the week, which allows me to pick up my munchkin from preschool and spend the afternoons and evenings with her, doubling roles as mom and dad.
My grandmother joins me around seven a few days a week, keeping me company throughout the day as I juggle baking and coffee orders, and making sure our town is happy and fueled. There’s something so inherently calming about the process of baking—the smells it creates, the ingredients that come together to make something taste so good and comforting. I live for it. I know my grandma does, too, and that even though she misses my grandpa daily, being here, a place that they built together from the ground up, brings her joy and peace . . . most of the time.
After pulling out the first few batches of my top sellers—apple cinnamon muffins, cinnamon rolls, chocolate croissants, and banana bread—I wash my hands and walk to the front of the building to unlock the door. Hands slightly shaky, I return to the back to eat something quickly before the morning rush starts. Liam will kick my ass if I faint again because I let my blood sugar get too low.
I manage to scarf down my oatmeal and fruit just as the bell chimes from the front door. Popping some gum in my mouth, I return to the counter to greet them. The next two hours are a constant rotation of customers coming in and out to get their caffeine fix and baked goods, while I check my baby monitor every few minutes to keep an eye on my sleeping daughter upstairs. My grandmother comes in and takes a seat at the small table by the bay window, with her little dog, Winnie, on her lap.
The bell chimes again just as I’m setting it down from staring at her perfect, relaxed little face on the screen.
“Well, look who it is. Don’t you normally get your fix down the street at The Night Owl?” I tease Liam’s brother, Carter, as he walks up to the counter.
“Han, don’t you know alcohol is frowned upon this early in the morning? C’mon.”
“But is it the alcohol you go there for?”
“Hey, now. That’s not fair. The ladies come to me, I’m just an innocent bystander trying to get a drink at the local bar after a hard day’s work. I can’t help their desires, sis.”
A laugh bursts from my lips. Carter is fifteen months younger than Liam. His poor mom had them all back-to-back, minus Kinsey who came a little later. He’s their wild child, and the rumors about him being a lady killer run strong in town. There’s an aura around him that demands attention, and women are throwing their panties at him left and right. The man has never been in a relationship, and I’ve known him his entire life.
“You need a chastity belt, sir. Or someone to lock you down for good. So, what can I get you?”
“Actually, not here for coffee, Liam sent me over to see if you needed any help with Charlie since he got caught up at work.”
My head jerks back in slight shock. It’s not abnormal for Liam’s family to jump in and help me with Charlotte. All of his siblings are surrogate uncles and aunts, and his parents are especially involved. But Carter?
“And he sent you? You hate kids. ”
“I don’t hate kids,” he admonishes. “I’m not a monster, Han. I just don’t want any of my own. I’m a fun uncle though,” he says, flashing what he thinks is his million-dollar smile. I just find his arrogance annoying, and I roll my eyes. His charm has never had an effect on me, and it certainly won’t now. “For real. I’m here to take her to school. Liam even made me take his monster truck for the kid harness thing.”
A smile tugs at my lips at the memory of Liam purchasing a car seat.
“Let me get the car seat from my car, that way your gigantic body doesn’t have to be squished behind the wheel of it again,” I say as I hand my daughter to Liam. He scoops her into his arms where her hands immediately find his cheeks. She loves to touch the cheeks of the people she loves. It’s such a comfort for her.
“No need, beauty. Ones already in there.”
“In your truck? When did you move it?” I ask, confused when he had the time to do that.
“I didn’t. After it took fifteen minutes last time to switch it out, I took a photo of the one you have and bought a second one so that it’s easier.”
“Wait, what?” I can’t hide the shock his revelation brings out in me. My tone lifting higher on the last word.
“I can’t talk any slower than that, Han.” He bounces my almost two-year-old in his arms, making her giggle. “Your momma is crazy, munchkin.”
“Bear, you bought a car seat to go in your truck?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s the exact same one I have in my car?”
“I know how long you did research on that thing so she could stay rear-facing, I’m not stupid enough to mess with you and the safety of Charlie. It’s the exact same make and model. ”
I blink at him slowly and my eyes start to water with tears. When I had Charlotte, I didn’t think I would be doing this without her father. Blinded by hormones. The red flags were always there, I just chose to ignore them. Liam hasn’t left my side since the moment I told him I was expecting her. This shouldn’t surprise me. But the extra mile he continues to go doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated. I’d be lost without my best friend.
“Fuck, beauty. Don’t cry.”
“Language, bear, please!”
“I can’t help it, when you cry it kills me. Don’t cry. It’s just a car seat. This will make things easier on us.”
Us.
Christ. What am I going to do once he finds a woman to settle down with? Explain to her that I need him, too? I need to get my shit together. Time for another heart-to-heart with Charlie’s father, Levi.
“Yeah. This will make things easier. You’re amazing. You know that, right?”
“You’re not wrong. I’m pretty cool.” He turns his attention back on my little girl. “Aren’t I? I’m your favorite, huh? Not momma, me.”
“Charlotte Sidney. Who’s your favorite?” I ask her, rubbing my nose against hers.
“Bear.”
Of course he is.
“You really don’t mind taking her? Liam usually scoots out of work, is everything okay?”
He rubs the back of his neck while looking over the menu behind me.
“Yeah, everything’s cool. He and Graham are just working on a wood supply issue from the cooperage. Her school is right up town, I’ll go the speed limit the entire way.”
I squint my eyes at him for a long moment before the bell chimes again and I’m forced to make a decision.
“Please, Ms. Nettie, get this thing off of me. Why? Why do we have to go through this every single time?” The eldest Hayes sibling says as my grandmother’s dog, Winnie, loses her ever loving mind, jumping at Sawyer’s ankles and barking as if she’s the most vicious little thing in the world.
“What are you doing here?” Sawyer asks Carter as he joins his brother at my counter.
“Being the fun uncle and taking Charlie to school.”
“What the fuck? Why do you get to take her to school?”
“Because Liam asked me to, shithead. Why is that surprising?”
“Because you hate kids.”
“Why the fuck does everyone keep saying that? I don’t hate kids. Just because I don’t want any doesn’t mean I hate them. Get off my case, shitstain. Hey, maybe we should update your nickname from shithead to shitstain. Gonna need to run that by Dallas.” Carter pulls out his phone and starts to text. These boys are all at or over six feet tall, athletically built, successful businessmen, and they behave like prepubescent children.
“Han, you really gonna let this fool take Charlie to school?”
“You all are insane. We just need Dallas to walk in and it’ll be a party. Liam is the only sane one out of you boys. Poor Kinsey. No wonder she’s out trying to do her own thing.”
“That didn’t answer my question,” Sawyer deadpans.
“Mother give me strength,” I mumble under my breath as I look up at the ceiling to compose myself. “Yes. I’m going to let him take her to school. He has Liam’s truck.”
Sawyer looks at me like I’ve grown three heads before he nearly whines. “But I need the practice. Ivy and I are going to have a hockey team someday.”
“I don’t think driving Charlotte to school is going to give you the practice that you’re looking for. Read a baby book. Carter, you can go on upstairs and wake her up. She’ll be excited to see you. After she’s ready, bring her through here so I can say bye to her, will you?
“You got it, boss.”
Turning back to Sawyer, he looks genuinely offended, and I can’t help but laugh at him. He’s a large fucker at six feet tall and built like a damn brick house with how often he works out. Still, he’s smaller in stature than Liam, but there was definitely something in the water when these boys were procreated.
“You’ll be fine. Buck up. Here for muffins?”
“Fine. Yeah, she’s craving them. You got a dozen?”
“Dude, where does Ivy put them? How are you going through so many?”
He shrugs and takes a seat at a table to wait for me to pack up his order.
The rest of the morning goes by in a blur and like every other day, I’m racing to close up and get Charlie from school. I’m exhausted, but I’ve got this. I live for this little shop and my daughter. Nothing is going to take either one of them away from me.