Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Missy
I had never seen that side of Levi before. But what bothered me most wasn’t that he’d shown up unannounced, not that he’d grabbed my arms. What ate at me was that I had frozen at his controlling and angry demands.
Thankfully, Cade had walked in like some avenging storm before I’d completely crumbled.
Back in college, Levi’s controlling behavior had started small, so small that I convinced myself that it was nothing.
He would insist we sign up for “just one” class together so we could spend more time as a couple.
Never mind that I was juggling business courses in the mornings and culinary labs late into the evenings while he was marching his way through pre-law seminars.
He’d pout, argue, guilt-trip until I finally rearranged my schedule, dropping the classes I needed for ones that he wanted.
I told myself it was compromise. Relationships were all about compromise, right?
But really, I’d been bending around him like a pretzel.
And it hadn’t stopped with classes. If I wanted to grab coffee with friends from my culinary cohort, he’d question why I needed to see them.
If I mentioned a study group, he’d find something wrong with the timing or the people involved.
Slowly, almost without noticing, I stopped mentioning my plans to him at all.
It was easier that way—less arguing, fewer snide comments, less of that cold look that he’d get when he felt that he was losing control.
But the worst arguments had always been centered around Cade.
Levi hated him. Openly, irrationally, and with the kind of simmering resentment that made every group hangout miserable.
He’d make fun of Cade’s classes, his side jobs in construction, his truck, even the way he dressed and talked.
Nothing was off limits in private or even in front of Cade.
Levi would roll his eyes when I laughed at something Cade said, as though my happiness around my best friend was some kind of betrayal to him.
The worst was when Cade and I had an inside joke. Levi would stew for days after and had many outbursts as follow-ups.
Cade for the most part ignored Levi. In private, when I asked for his opinion, he’d give it to me.
“Levi isn’t good for you.” Simple. To the point.
I spent so much time trying to smooth the tension between them, trying to be the calm bridge between two storms that refused to share the same sky.
And yet… here I was, all these years later, freezing just like I used to when Levi’s temper rose and the air tightened around me. I thought that I had outgrown that version of myself. I thought I had at least learned how to deal with these situations better.
I was thankful Cade had shown up when he had.
There was little I could say or do to get Levi to leave or to understand I didn’t want him here in the first place.
If I had known it was him knocking on my back door, I wouldn’t have even answered it.
I thought I had closed that chapter of my life the moment I’d found out Levi had cheated on me.
There was no going back after that. Ever. Not in my book.
But I had believed the knock on the door was Cade.
Hoped, more like.
And that stung, too, because I’d been avoiding Cade until my body and brain settled down after… well, after that kiss and what we’d almost done.
I’d thought long and hard over the past few days about what the consequences of that action would have been. How it would have changed things.
I swallowed the fear and guilt down, forcing the burning embarrassment of my thoughts away.
Cade stood across from me now with his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for me to speak. He was solid, steady, trustworthy, and most importantly, familiar. Everything Levi had never been.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he said finally, breaking the silence with his quiet tone. “I just need to make sure that you’re okay.”
I noticed it in his eyes suddenly. The concern he had for me. I had been worried that he would think that I wanted Levi to be there, that maybe I’d invited him. Then I saw that look, the one I knew all too well, and understood.
“I’m fine,” I lied, picking at a speck of frosting on the stainless-steel countertop. “Really. I just wasn’t expecting him to be in town. I didn’t even know that he knew where I was.” I threw up my hands slightly.
“No doubt one of your parents told him right where you were,” he said softly. “You did say they’d been hounding you to take him back. After all, his family is…” He frowned slightly. “I think the way they put it is ‘the right kind of people.’”
I winced and remembered the last conversation with my mother. “Yeah. My mother tried guilting me into getting back with him, going down a long list of our friends that are getting married or having children.” I rolled my eyes.
When the time was right, I planned on settling down. But now, I wanted to focus on this place. On making something for myself first.
Cade nodded slightly, but thankfully, he didn’t push the conversation more, and I was grateful for that. I didn’t want to analyze my emotional shortcomings with him watching me so closely.
Trying to change the subject, I motioned toward the massive tray of bare cupcakes. “I still have a hundred of these left to frost for tomorrow morning. I’ll be here all night at this rate.”
Cade straightened, rolling up his sleeves like a man preparing for war. “Hand me a piping bag.”
I blinked. “You don’t frost cupcakes.”
“I can follow instructions,” he said. “Besides, you need the help. And I make a mean swirl.”
I snorted. “Please. You helped me once and iced a birthday cake so badly I cried.”
“You cried because I wrote ‘Happy Brithday’ and then tried to fix it myself.”
I laughed now, remembering the mess he’d made. “You made it even worse than it was.”
“And yet”—he lifted a piping bag, testing the weight—“here I am. Trying to redeem myself all these years later.”
I laughed again, the last of my tension loosening. Maybe I’d needed that more than I realized. Needed my best friend.
“Unless you don’t want the help…” He turned as if to leave.
I stopped him by grabbing the sleeve of his flannel. The soft fabric was warm from his arm.
“Stay. These are all supposed to get an assortment of spring flowers on them, but you can help me frost the base colors.”
He smiled, one of those slow, crooked smiles that always managed to trip my stomach, and then he followed me to the table. I slid two bowls in front of him: one filled with pale pink frosting, the other creamy white.
“What is a base color?” he said looking at all the cupcakes. “And most importantly, are any of these available to be consumed?”
I chuckled, pulling out a sheet of wax paper.
“You can have one.” I lifted a finger. “After you do the work. You have to earn your pay.” He nodded.
“Second, base frosting techniques are very simple. You swirl the frosting on, like this…” I demonstrated a quick spiral of white onto a bare cupcake.
“Then we put them in the cooler for thirty minutes. This tray is already cooled,” I took a chilled one and set the other down on the tray in its place to be chilled. “Now this is the fun part, you flip.”
“Flip,” he repeated. “Like an acrobat?”
“Like a baker,” I corrected, fighting a grin.
I pressed the chilled frosted cupcake gently onto the wax sheet, twisting just enough to flatten the swirl into a smooth, level flat surface.
After letting it set for a moment to settle, I lifted it, now the frosting was perfectly even and ready for me to create the delicate piped flowers I had in mind.
Cade let out a low whistle. “That’s… shockingly satisfying.”
“It is,” I admitted with a grin. “Think of it like spackling holes in walls, but with sugar.”
He turned and grinned at me. “You really know how to speak to my soul.”
I laughed. “First, however, wash your hands.” I waited while he walked over to the sink, scrubbed them clean, then dried them.
Then I handed him a frosting knife. “Okay. Now it’s your turn.
Take a chilled cupcake off the tray and replace it with a newly frosted cupcake.
Try not to embarrass yourself.” I nudged his shoulder with mine.
“Oh, Miss Baker Extraordinaire,” he said, adjusting his stance like he was preparing for combat. “I was born for this moment.”
He took too much frosting and dropped it on the cupcake in a massive blob, which splattered onto the table.
I choked on a laugh. “Born for it, huh?”
He side-eyed me. “It’s abstract art.”
“Mm-hmm. Now flatten it,” I said after he removed half of the frosting.
He pressed the cupcake onto the wax paper with dramatic precision, like he was performing surgery, and when he lifted it, the frosting was… surprisingly decent.
“See?” he said proudly. “I’m a natural.”
“A natural disaster,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?”
“Nothing. You’re doing great. Only a hundred more to go.” I slapped him on the shoulder, then walked to the end of the table.
We fell into a rhythm, him dolloping and flattening frosting, me organizing the colors for the flowers I’d pipe next: lilac purples, soft yellows, bright greens for leaves.
Every so often, our hands brushed as we reached for the same tool or swapped trays, and each time a jolt of something warm flickered through me like a bolt of lightning.
Cade worked with an intensity that would’ve been hilarious if it wasn’t so adorable. His brow furrowed, his jaw was set with deep concentration.
He looked more like he was taking a hard test than putting frosting on cupcakes.
“You know,” he said slowly, examining a cupcake like it was a crime scene, “I think this one might be my masterpiece.”
“It’s a little lopsided.”
He turned it and held it up to the light and laughed. “It has character.”