Chapter 5
The morning air greeted me as I stepped away from the school gates, the soft crunch of snow under my boots the only sound for a moment.
I pulled my coat tighter around me, watching as the bell rang faintly behind me, and the last group of kids hurried inside.
Connor was one of them now. A student at a new school, in a new town.
Somehow, that felt bigger than it should’ve.
A few days ago, we were strangers here. Now, he had a desk with his name on it, a teacher who already knew he loved dinosaurs and hockey, and a new friend with chestnut curls named Liam. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And today, I was going to try and find my own start too.
The town was a little busier than usual–dog walkers chatting at corners, a few parents rushing home in their snow-dusted cars, coffee cups steaming in gloved hands. The bakery wasn’t far, just a few blocks away, and the walk gave me too much time to think. Too much space for worry to creep in.
What if I wasn’t cut out for this?
The thought came uninvited, sharp as the wind on my cheeks.
Not just the job–though, God, it had been years since I’d worked in a place like that, worked in general.
But this whole thing. The move. The fresh start.
The pretending like I wasn’t looking over my shoulder every time a truck slowed down or a stranger held my gaze a second too long.
I blinked into the pale morning light and kept walking. Benny had told me to come by after drop-off. I didn’t even want to tell him my last name. The less people knew, the safer we’d be.
Still, there was something about him that made me feel like I could let my guard down for half a second.
Maybe.
Even if I couldn’t, that was fine too. I wasn’t here to find connection or comfort or community.
I was here to keep Connor safe. To build something stable, brick by brick, even if I had to do it all on my own.
A quiet kind of life where Connor could go to school and sleep through the night without fear.
Where he could play hockey, laugh at dumb jokes, and not flinch when a door slammed too hard.
That was enough. That had to be enough.
He deserved normal. He deserved something that wouldn’t fall apart. And if I had to white-knuckle my way through the rest of my life to make sure he got it, then so be it.
The bakery’s front display came into view, glittering with Benny’s over-the-top winter decorations.
Twinkling white lights framed the windows, and a pair of wooden reindeer stood proudly at the entrance, their antlers tangled in silver tinsel.
I hesitated for a moment, watching the few people who were already inside, chatting casually over coffee.
For a moment, nerves prickled my skin, and I wondered if this place could really become part of my world or if I was just chasing something I’d never find.
Taking a breath, I pushed the door open. The air was thick with the scent of butter and sugar, mingling with the earthiness of ground coffee beans. There was a faint hiss from the espresso machine, followed by the soothing gurgle of steamed milk.
A display case filled with golden pastries and neatly stacked loaves of bread lined the counter, their glossy surfaces catching the soft morning light. Flaky croissants sat next to delicate fruit tarts with glistening berries.
I stood there for a moment, letting the cozy stillness sink into my bones. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that had been my life for so long. Here, it felt like time had slowed, like the world outside didn’t matter.
Benny stood behind the counter, his ever-present smile lighting up his face the moment he spotted me. “Look who actually listened to my fashion advice!” he said, waving a hand toward my outfit. “No beige in sight. You’re already off to a fabulous start.”
I glanced down, suddenly aware of the soft sage-green sweater I’d paired with dark jeans and ankle boots still dusted with snow.
My hair was half-up, half-down, mostly out of my face–an attempt to look put together even if I hadn’t slept much.
One hand tightened instinctively around my opposite wrist, my thumb tracing slow circles against the skin there.
“Morning,” I replied, loosening my grip. “I’m ready to get started.”
“Let’s get you set up, then,” he said, handing me an apron. “Come on back, and I’ll show you around.”
I followed him through the small swinging door behind the counter and into the kitchen. The space was compact yet meticulously organized.
“You won’t be elbow-deep in dough just yet,” Benny said over his shoulder. “Today’s all about the front of house–register, coffee, a bit of cleaning. But I’ve got a feeling…” He paused dramatically, turning to flash me a grin. “You’ll be baking in no time.”
The morning passed in a blur of coffee and small town chatter. Benny kept things light, guiding me with patient instructions and the occasional joke, while regulars came and went with easy familiarity.
“Morning, Benny,” came a deep, gravelly voice. “You must be Harper.”
I startled slightly, turning toward the counter to find a man standing there–tall, broad, and built like he could chop wood with his bare hands. He offered me a handshake, his weathered palm open and waiting.
I hesitated just a beat too long before taking it, my smile tight. “That’s me,” I said cautiously.
He chuckled, easy and kind. “Name’s Hank. Benny wouldn’t shut up about you yesterday–told half the town you were starting today and insisted we all be on our best behaviour.”
Benny popped up beside me with a wink. “Guilty. I just believe in giving a girl a proper Brookhaven welcome.”
“Throw in an extra one of those oatmeal raisin cookies today,” Hank said as Benny was already reaching for a cookie. He leaned casually against the counter, clearly comfortable here.
I watched as Benny moved with practised ease, pouring Hank’s coffee without missing a beat.
They exchanged small talk, laughing about the weather and Hank’s old truck giving him trouble again.
It was clear they’d had this conversation a hundred times before, the familiarity settling between them like an old habit.
Hank left with a wave and a casual, “See you tomorrow,” his departure as unhurried as his arrival.
I watched him go, my chest tightening with an unexpected longing. It wasn’t just the coffee or the cookies that brought people here–it was this. The routine. The small, predictable interactions that made this place feel like home.
This town ran on these connections, each exchange another thread weaving people’s lives together. And watching it made me realize how long it had been since I’d felt a part of anything like that. Since Connor and I had been a part of something steady.
At first, I felt like an outsider watching it all from the edges, fumbling orders and spilling coffee with jittery hands. By the time the lunch rush died down, I’d started to settle.
Benny wiped his hands on his apron and gave me a nod. “You did good today,” he said.
I untied my apron, draping it over the hook behind the counter, then reached for my coat.
“Same time tomorrow,” he said with a grin.
“Thanks, Benny,” I replied, the warmth of his words settling in my chest.
It was time to pick up Connor, and all I could do was hope his day had gone half as well as mine.
The school bell had already rung by the time I reached the gate, the crowd of waiting parents thinning as kids poured out.
Most had already reunited, their voices bright as they skipped toward home, and a few parents lingered for stragglers, chatting in soft tones and stamping their feet against the cold.
I slipped into a spot by the fence, my hands stuffed deep in my pockets as my eyes scanned the crowd.
My stomach tightened with each passing second.
It was Connor’s first official day–his first time navigating new hallways, new teachers, new classmates.
What if Liam, the boy he’d clicked with yesterday, had changed his mind about being friends?
Kids were unpredictable. Fickle. What if someone had asked why we moved and Connor hadn’t known how to answer?
I didn’t want him holding it all in. But I also didn’t want what happened to me–what happened to us–shadowing him here.
Then I spotted him.
He was near the front steps, backpack slung over one shoulder, his whole face lit up as he talked to Liam. They were both grinning, lost in some boyish story that made Connor’s hands fly through the air with excitement. Relief swelled so fast in my chest it almost hurt.
Beside them, stood a woman I hadn’t met–petite, with chestnut waves spilling from beneath a dark green Carhartt toque.
Her jeans were tucked into worn boots, and her eyes crinkled with laughter.
There was something effortless about her–warm, grounded.
She looked about my age, maybe a little younger, and the way she placed a gentle hand on Liam’s shoulder told me she was his mom.
Connor saw me and beamed. “Mom! Over here!”
I smiled as I approached. “Hey bud, how was it?”
“Awesome!” Connor grinned. “Liam showed me everything and we got to sit next to each other in class. We even got extra recess!”
“That’s great,” I said, wrapping my arm around him for a quick hug. My eyes shifted to the woman standing beside Liam, who smiled warmly.
“Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” I said. “Still figuring out how long it takes to walk everywhere here.”
She waved it off. “You’re fine. I’ve been thoroughly entertained listening to these two talk each other’s ears off. They’ve covered everything from favourite snacks to dream jobs to which teacher probably used to be a pirate.”
Connor laughed. “It’s definitely Mr. Baynard.”
I smiled, glancing over at the woman beside me.
“I’m Nina, by the way,” she said, offering her hand with an easy confidence. “Liam’s aunt.”
“Harper,” I replied, shaking it. “Connor’s mom.”
Her smile deepened. “Nice to officially meet you.”