Epilogue
DAMIAN
The bell over the bakery door chimes as a fresh crowd spills in. The place is busy as hell—customers packed into mismatched wooden chairs, sipping specialty lattes and tearing into flaky scones. Sunlight pours through the windows, painting everything in gold.
And there she is.
Lo. In the kitchen behind the glass, sleeves rolled, hair twisted into some messy knot that’s already slipping loose under her baker’s hat.
She’s bent over a custom birthday cake, three tiers of fondant and sugar flowers so delicate they could be mistaken for real petals.
Her fingers are steady, confident, the kind of graceful focus that turns heads.
Her lip is caught between her teeth as she leans in closer, adding the final touches.
There’s a smear of pink frosting on her cheek.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her.
I could stay like this all damn day. She glances up and catches me staring.
Her smile blooms slow and soft, the kind that hits square in the chest and makes everything else shut the hell up.
I can’t help but grin back. I gave up trying to hide it months ago.
I push off the frame and stroll over, resting an elbow on the counter beside her. “Looks good enough to eat,” I say, my voice dropping low. “And I don’t mean the cake.”
Her eyes flick to mine, mischievous. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll let you have all you want, then.”
“Five,” I murmur, sliding my finger through a stripe of frosting on the counter. “Your office. You bent over your desk. Pussy out. Waiting.”
Her eyes darken. “Ten minutes. And if you keep looking at me like that, you’ll end up wearing this frosting.”
I lean closer. “Yeah? Where are you planning on smearing it?”
She arches a brow. “Okay, eight minutes. My office. I’ll bring the frosting.”
I reach out and swipe the icing off her cheek with my thumb. She swats my hand away, laughing.
“Place is packed today,” I say, glancing back outside at the bustling crowd. “You did good.”
She looks down, brushing the edge of the cake with a small metal spatula. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yeah, you could’ve,” I say, meaning it. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”
She leans in, just for a second, long enough for me to press a kiss to her temple before someone calls her name from the front counter.
I head to her office, tugging my phone from my pocket when it vibrates. Jackass flashes on the screen. Bridger. “Yeah?” I answer, moving to sit behind her desk, pushing her papers to the side.
“You still at the bakery?” Bridger’s voice is tense.
“Yeah, why? What’s going on?”
He pauses, just long enough to set my nerves on fire. “Clay’s out.”
I go completely still. Dad’s out of prison. “Really?” The chair creaks beneath me as I straighten up. “You sure?”
“Just heard from someone still inside. He’s been out a few days. And he’s already asking questions. Says someone owes him. Says Joel’s dead and all his money’s gone. Doesn’t even know where his wife is.”
A slow, cold burn starts building under my ribs. I grit my teeth. “He doesn’t know where we are.”
“Not yet,” Bridger says. “But it’s just a matter of time.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice low. “I know.”
“I’ll come by later. We’ll figure it out.”
I cut the call and tuck the phone away, pulse steady even as my brain spins.
The past always comes back. I just didn’t think it’d be this soon.
I thought it would be Vick and Taylor we’d needed to worry about first, but no one has seen or heard from either of them since Vegas. I’m hoping they’re both dead.
Marlowe walks in and closes the door behind her. I plaster on a smile. I can’t let her know yet. Not until I figure out what to do. Clay’s out and he’s pissed. Eventually he’ll be coming for us. I just got my life back. Got a great girl. I’m not losing any of it.
She slides her bottom on the desk in front of me, and dangles a tub of frosting in her fingers. “I’m very hungry.”
“Me too, Angel.”
I push off the chair and crush my lips against hers, determined to protect what’s mine, no matter what.