Chapter Ten
~ Quiad ~
The first rule of small-town warfare is to know your terrain, and Rosie's Bakery had always been more a minefield than a neutral ground.
Every time the door opened, it set off a ripple of sound—bell chime, laughter, the soft scrape of boots on tile.
But today, the air inside was different.
It wasn't just the sugar in the air or the clatter of pie tins; it was the tension, wound so tight you could've bounced a quarter off it.
We walked in at exactly noon. Levi's hand was clamped in mine, his pulse tripping along so fast I thought he might snap the bones. I looked down and watched his fingers—inked, healing, the skin around the tattoo still pink and raw. He held on like it was the only thing anchoring him to the room.
Across from the register, Knox had already commandeered a table.
He wore a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms on display, a mug of black coffee steaming between his hands.
His eyes clocked us as soon as we stepped inside, a barely perceptible nod passing for the all clear.
He looked like he'd sooner strangle someone with a napkin than let shit get out of hand.
Gloria was at the far end, by the window, seated at a two-top table with both chairs facing the door.
She looked smaller than I remembered—thinner, maybe, or just hollowed out in the way of people who'd been chasing a losing hand for too long. Her hair was the same straw-blonde, roots showing black and wild, and her face bore the kind of makeup job that was meant to cover up more than it ever could. But her eyes were alive and scanning, sharp as a hawk’s, and the smile she flashed when she saw Levi was so wide it made my skin itch.
"She already ordered," Levi murmured, and I realized he'd spotted the untouched coffee and pastry in front of her. The croissant was dissected, peeled into layers, but not a crumb actually eaten.
We crossed the room in a silence that felt radioactive. I led the way, forcing her to see me first, but when we reached the table, she acted like I wasn't there at all.
"My baby boy," she purred, reaching up with both hands as if expecting Levi to fall into her arms. "Look at you. Handsome as the devil. Just like your father."
Levi tensed. He didn't sit, not right away. He hovered, eyes locked on the edge of the table, the way a dog might stare down a snake. "What do you want, Gloria?"
The smile faltered, just a second, but she recovered quick. "Is that any way to talk to your mother?" She folded her hands, studying her nails. "We have so much to catch up on. I was hoping you’d give me five minutes of your time, just to talk. Just to… reconnect."
She glanced at me now, a flicker of challenge in her eyes. "You must be Quiad," she said, the name coming out with a strange blend of curiosity and distaste. "Levi always did go for the tough ones."
I slid into the seat beside Levi, not across. He sat down too, so close our knees touched under the table. My arm found the back of his chair, proprietary as hell.
"Nice to meet you, ma’am," I said, keeping my voice flat. "Let’s cut to it. You asked him here for a reason, and it’s not for the eggs Benedict."
She let out a high, brittle laugh. "Always business, these McKenzies."
"Don’t," I said. I doubted she truly knew anything about the McKenzies beyond what she learned through rumors and gossip.
Her gaze slid back to Levi, and I saw her recalibrate. She leaned forward, elbows on the Formica, and tried to reach for his hand, but he kept it under the table, tangled in mine.
"You’re looking good, sweetie," she said, softening her voice. "I thought you’d have gone all to pieces after what happened. But here you are, getting married and everything. I heard you’re building a house together. Is that true?"
The bakery was full, but the conversations had slowed to a crawl. I could feel a dozen pairs of ears tuned to our table, pretending not to listen.
Levi's mouth was a straight line. "You have five minutes. Start talking."
She blinked, then sighed, as if burdened by the weight of the world.
"It’s about your father’s estate," she said.
"The people handling it are saying there might be an insurance policy, and they need your signature. I didn’t know who else to call.
" Her voice was trembling, but I watched her face—every muscle mapped for effect.
"They want you to come in, just for a few minutes, sign the papers, and then you never have to see me again. I promise."
Levi said nothing, but the tremor in his jaw was back. He stared down at his lap, where our hands were locked together.
She tried again, voice growing more desperate. "It’s not for me, baby. I just want to do the right thing by you. I know I messed up, I know I wasn’t there when you needed me, but this is my last chance to make it up to you. Please, Levi."
I could smell the bullshit from three feet away, but I waited. It wasn't my fight—not yet.
When Levi finally looked up, his eyes were wet but steady. "If you’re not getting anything out of it, why do you care so much?"
She recoiled, then reached for her coffee with shaking hands.
"It’s not about the money," she said, but there was a whine under the words. "It’s just... they said if you didn’t sign, it’d go to court, and that’d be a mess for both of us.
I don’t have the energy for that, honey. I’m sick. I haven’t been well."
Levi flinched, but I pressed my thumb against the inside of his wrist—hard enough to make him focus.
"You never called," he said, the words like gravel. "Not once. Not after the foster hearings, not when I graduated, not when Dad died. You didn’t even send a fucking card."
Gloria’s smile fell away. For a split second, the mask was gone, and all that was left was an animal panic. Then she fixed her face, arranging it into a portrait of motherly concern.
"I was ashamed," she said, voice catching in a way that sounded so perfectly practiced it almost hurt. "I didn’t want you to see me like this. Penniless. Alone. I’m living in a motel. The only thing I’ve got left is you."
That hit the room like a gunshot. Even the register girl stopped counting change. I wondered if Knox would step in, but he didn’t move—just watched, impassive, from the corner.
"Why now?" Levi whispered. "Why not last year? Why not ever? I haven’t seen you since I was six god-damn years old."
Gloria looked at me, then at Levi, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Because I’m dying, baby. I’m not going to make it six more months. The treatments—they’re brutal. I don’t have anyone else. I just want you to remember me as I was. I want you to forgive me, just this once."
It was a master class in manipulation, but I’d seen better. Still, Levi’s breath caught, and he sagged in his chair, the fight draining out of him.
I cleared my throat. "You want the money for treatments," I said, watching her face for the tell. There it was—the microsecond twitch, the little tick at the edge of her mouth.
She nodded, lips trembling. "Yes, but I’d give it all up if you’d just give me one more day. One more chance to be your mom."
The bakery felt like a courtroom, everyone waiting for the verdict.
Levi drew a shaky breath, then said, "If I do this, you leave. You don’t come back. Ever."
She smiled, the tears finally rolling. "Deal," she said.
He pulled his hand from mine, wiped at his face, then nodded once. "I’ll sign."
"Sunshine—" I started, but he cut me off with a look. For a second, I saw the boy he used to be, small and breakable, but then it was gone, replaced by a hard resolve.
Gloria stood up, fast, as if she was afraid to lose her grip. She moved to hug him, but I blocked her with my arm, not subtle at all.
"Thank you," she said, voice thick. She didn’t try again.
She turned to leave, brushing past the bakery crowd, all of whom suddenly found the floor or their pastries much more interesting.
As the door slammed behind her, the tension broke. The noise came back in a wave—voices, laughter, even the radio. But the world felt drained, flat.
Levi didn’t look at me. He stared out the window, watching her cross the street, her figure sharp against the pale sky.
"You know she’s lying," I said, as gently as I could.
He nodded, jaw set. "Doesn’t matter. I just want her gone."
I wanted to say more, but I knew it’d just hurt him. So I let him sit there, breathing the smell of sugar and yeast, until Knox came over, dragging an extra chair.
"Drama," he said, not asking.
Levi didn’t answer.
Knox nodded at me, then patted Levi’s shoulder with one massive hand. "You did good," he said. "She won’t come back. Not with me watching."
Levi laughed, then scrubbed at his eyes, and for a second I thought maybe he’d break. But he didn’t. He looked at me, really looked, and then at the bakery, at the people who’d seen it all and decided it wasn’t worth their trouble to interfere.
"We’re getting married," he said, the words for himself as much as anyone.
"Yeah," I said, squeezing his hand. "We are."
And if Gloria came back, if she ever even tried to set foot in this town again, she’d have to go through all of us.
I made a silent promise to myself: I’d never let him be unmade again, not by her or anybody. Let the world watch. Let them all know. He was mine. And I was never letting go.
Gloria didn’t stay gone. She stood on the curb outside, chain-smoking menthols one after the other, pacing the concrete like a zoo animal.
Levi watched her through the window, jaw set.
Every time she turned, the sharp edge of her face caught the sun, making her look like she’d been carved out of bone and regret.
Knox went to settle up at the register, giving us a minute alone. I kept Levi’s hand in mine, thumb tracing the line of his pulse. It had slowed, but not by much. He was still somewhere far away, locked behind his own eyes, and I hated how easy it was for her to pull him back there.