Chapter Twenty-Six
When Blane arrived at the bakery on Friday afternoon, he cut the engine, rested his forearms on the steering wheel, and sat there for a few moments.
His friends liked to gather here on Friday afternoons.
Hell, half the valley did. Over the years, it had turned into a kind of weekly community event, one of those things everyone seemed to know about without anyone ever officially arranging it.
Blane had never bothered with it much, even when he came back to visit during the years he’d been away.
He just wasn’t that social. But as he sat there and added it up, this was the third—no, maybe the fourth—Friday in a row he’d come to hang out with everyone.
And when he added those weeks together with the first couple when he just hadn’t wanted to come after he arrived back, the answer settled heavily in his chest. Six weeks—it had been six weeks since he’d been in the other bakery, the one in Crete with Bea.
His lips twitched into a half smile at the memory.
The one with the baklava, where somehow even sitting around doing nothing had felt like being exactly where he was supposed to be.
At first, he’d wondered whether the memory of her, and of the time they’d had together, might fade a little with distance. It hadn’t. If anything, the pull was stronger now.
He looked up when Brooke’s truck turned into the lot.
Of course he was glad he was back here. He loved being around his little sister.
Loved being back with all the guys. He’d worked with Cash and Mav for most of his adult life, and with Emmett, Ace, Trip, Travis, and Deacon for more than half of it.
They’d grown up together in this valley, gone to school together, left for the Navy, and then found their way back in different stages of their lives.
Now, somehow, they were all here together again.
That should have felt like belonging, and it did, in a way.
But even here, surrounded by people who’d known him his whole life, Blane still felt as though he stood at the edge of things, keeping watch over his people rather than living in the middle of it with them.
He let out a breath. He didn’t feel the way he had in Crete—the way he’d felt with Bea.
He climbed out of the truck and shut the door, then headed over to greet Brooke.
The bakery was crowded, and he ushered her in ahead of him as they made their way toward the booths in the back where the gang was sitting.
People nodded and touched the brims of their hats in greeting as he approached, but they also shifted automatically to let him and Brooke through.
It reminded him of something Bea had said in London, about crowds parting before him like the Red Sea before Moses.
He’d always been aware of it, and mostly found it useful. Today, though, it struck him differently. Not because he felt out of place here—he didn’t. These were his people. But even among them, he still moved through the middle without quite becoming part of the crowd.
As they approached the tables where the others were sitting, Brooke slipped her arm through his and gave it a squeeze. “I’m going to head to the counter and get myself a coffee. What can I get you?”
He frowned. “You sit down. I can go.”
“No, it’s fine. I want to say hi to a few people anyway. Do you want a pastry or anything?”
He smiled through pursed lips. “That’s okay. The pastries are good in here. But…”
“Oh my God, Blane, I know—nothing here compares to that baklava, does it? I need you to give me Bea’s address, by the way. I want to send her a thank you card. It was so kind of her to mail it to us like that.”
He smiled. “You don’t need to send her a card. I’ll tell her you said thank you.”
Brooke gave him a stern look. “I want to send her a card. It’s more personal.” She tightened her arm around his for a second before letting go. “It’s a real connection, and I want one of those with her.”
Blane wasn’t going to get into that with her. She was still badgering him to somehow get Bea to move here, and she either wouldn’t listen or genuinely didn’t understand why he refused even to ask.
After a few moments of staring him down, Brooke slapped his arm in a way that reminded him so much of Bea that his chest tightened.
“Go and sit with the guys. I’ll be back in a minute with your coffee.”
He watched her go and scowled to himself when he spotted Brody standing at the counter. He didn’t even know why he had a problem with it anymore. Sure, the guy was eleven years older than Brooke, but she wasn’t a kid anymore. And Brody was a good guy.
As though he’d felt the intensity of Blane’s glare, Brody looked up. His eyes widened for half a second, but to his credit he didn’t look away. He touched the brim of his hat and gave Blane a nod.
Blane nodded curtly back before turning away.
Cash grinned and patted the space beside him. “Glad you could make it, bud.”
The others greeted him too, some murmuring hello, others calling across the tables.
There were enough of them that they’d filled the big booth and spilled over onto two adjoining tables.
Blane said hi to a few, smiled and nodded to the rest, then waited until the conversations around him resumed before turning back to Cash.
“Mav not coming?”
Cash jerked his chin toward where Libby was sitting farther down, talking with Harper and Shelley. “Thought I had him talked into it but when we got here, he spotted Libby’s truck in the parking lot and took off.” He made a face. “And we came together, so you’re giving me a ride home.”
Blane huffed out a laugh. “What if I have other plans?”
“You don’t.”
“I could.”
Cash laughed. “Yeah, you could. But you don’t.”
Blane shook his head.
“And listen,” Cash went on, his expression turning more serious. “I’ve been thinking—Crete might be a better place than we realized for the training.”
Blane scowled at him. “Leave it, Cash. I know you care, and I appreciate what you’re doing, but sending me back there isn’t going to magically persuade Bea to come back here with me.”
Instead of laughing it off, Cash held his gaze. “I know, bud. I get that.” He paused. “But I hate seeing you miserable.”
Blane frowned. He wasn’t miserable. He enjoyed being around Cash and the others.
Cash must have read that in his face, because he sighed. “All right. I take it back. Maybe not miserable.”
“You mean, no more than usual.”
That earned him a laugh.
“I don’t see why you should have a problem with it anyway,” Blane went on. “You don’t call me and Mav Grumpy and Grumpier for no reason.”
“No, but I’m not joking this time, bud.” Cash leaned forward. “I think you should go back and see if that terrain is going to work for what we need.”
Blane turned to look out the window, but the bakery was so crowded he couldn’t see much beyond the people moving past it. He dropped his gaze instead.
Cash grasped his shoulder. “I’m serious about the terrain. But I’m more serious about you.” His grip tightened briefly. “You left unfinished business over there. I think you should go back and either finish it or figure out how to keep it going.”
Blane could only nod. He didn’t know what else to do.
He hung around for a while after that, following the conversations around him even if he didn’t join in much. Everyone seemed to be doing well. They were all getting together for lunch at the MacFarland place on Sunday, and he made an excuse when Deacon asked if he was coming.
Before he could leave, Harper came around to have a word with him. She told him that Tanya and Alana had been complaining that they hadn’t seen Uncle Blane in a while and they missed him. He promised he’d stop in to see the girls soon, even if he didn’t make it to lunch on Sunday.
By the time he left the bakery, he was ready to go home.
And as he climbed into his truck, it hit him that Cash was right—he didn’t have a home here.
He had his rooms down at Mav’s ranch, where they’d moved the security teams. And granted, they were bigger than most of the others, and comfortable enough. But they were still far from a home.
He could go up to the house in town, the place that had been home when he was a kid, but that was Brooke’s place now.
No matter how often she told him she wanted him there, it wouldn’t work.
He could visit. He’d always be her big brother, and she was right—they were their own little family.
But that house hadn’t been his home since he was eighteen.
And that was the difference, he realized.
He belonged here. He belonged to these people.
But the place he thought of when he thought of home now was a little stone house on a hillside in Crete, with a garden taking shape around it and an Englishwoman inside who talked too much.
He smiled despite himself. Then he took out his phone.
Blane: Hey, darlin’. I miss you.
He stared at the words for several seconds, and then deleted them.
Blane: Hey, darlin’. Saw Brooke this afternoon. Is it okay if I give her your address? She wants to send you a thank you card for the baklava.
It’d be the middle of the night in Crete, but he still watched the screen for a while, hoping that the dots might appear. They didn’t. And when the screen eventually went dark in his hand, he started the engine. Hopefully he’d hear from her tomorrow.
~ ~ ~
When she arrived back from her visit to the shelter on Saturday morning, Bea was feeling rather pleased with herself.
She was helping out and making herself useful on her visits there, and she was doing a lot of the dirty work.
She didn’t mind cleaning out the pens, unlike some of the other volunteers.
But if she were honest, little Sifis was the reason she’d been going back so often.
And this morning, he’d been out in the big yard with all the other dogs when she arrived.