25. Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Sugar and butter perfumed the air as we reached the counter. Raelynn greeted us with a harried grin, her eyes widening when I introduced Hannah as my daughter. The questions burned behind her polite smile, but like Aiden and Ms. Conroy, she kept them locked away.
Everyone in town knew damn well I hadn’t had a daughter last Christmas. But this was Three Corners, where manners mattered more than gossip—at least to my face. Poor Shy. The minute she hit town, they’d descend like vultures, hungry for every detail I wouldn’t give them.
Hannah pressed closer to the glass, her eyes wide on the rows of pastries. “Oh my god, look at those cookie crowns. They even sparkle. I can’t even…”
“Tell Raelynn which ones you want. Get enough for Shy and the prince, too.”
She groaned again, but didn’t look up from her perusal of Raelynn’s fancy cookies. While Hannah debated between maple bars and blinged out cookie crowns, my mind drifted to Merri. To the way she’d bolted from my apartment, not even letting me call a service for her.
Stubbornly independent.
Strong.
Determined.
In the weeks that had passed since that night, I’d done my level best to respect her wishes. Keep my distance. I’d played my game and somehow, without fail, her beloved Pop would appear on my shelf. I hadn’t caught her leaving it once. And after every game, I snuck it back into her office.
I couldn’t keep the doll. And her sneaking him into my locker was the only connection we still had. No more Ping-Pong matches, no air hockey challenges. I’d seen her bury AB in a game of Hoop Fever. She hadn’t touched my score on the leaderboard yet, but I’d heard Novak challenge her to go for it.
It’d been all I could do not to rush over and challenge her to a shoot-out. And more than one of the guys had sent me a baffled look. Nothing I could say.
Playing games with Merri felt impossible now. I wanted to more than anything, but it felt too close to foreplay. Like torture.
Hannah shifted, knocking against my side as she bent down to point out the exact crown she wanted.
“Get an extra crown for Prince Tiago.”
“It’s getting old, Dad.”
My face damn near cracked with the force of my grin. No, I thought. It would never get old. Not if I could get a response like that from my sweet daughter. One that said she was comfortable enough, secure enough, to complain.
Raelynn grinned at me over the glass counter and I nodded back. Merri would love this place. She’d probably analyze the efficiency of the space, but she’d settle in to enjoy the sugar, too. The thought brought both a smile and an ache.
The bell above the door chimed as more customers crowded in. Time to wrap this up. “Satisfied, kiddo?”
“Yep.”
As Raelynn boxed up our order, I caught Hannah whisper-asking if she could get some of the dog treats Ms. Conroy had mentioned. My daughter, alright. Already plotting to win over Clyde with contraband biscuits. Pride straightened my shoulders.
The aroma of sizzling burgers filled the kitchen as I hooked a left into the kitchen.
Tiago worked the range, flipping patties with the kind of focus that made cooking look like an art.
At the table, Mateo and Hannah moved in sync, clearing the long, worn surface my parents had left behind.
At the island, Shy sat with a glass of wine, gaze locked on her partner as if watching him cook was the highlight of her night.
I grabbed glasses, silverware, and plates, passing them off to Hannah.
Across the kitchen, my daughter’s voice bounced through the air, full of energy as she rattled off roller derby stats to Mateo.
He didn’t say much, just nodded at the right moments, but the way he worked alongside her—like they’d done this a hundred times—settled something in my chest.
A year ago, this whole scene would’ve sent me running. Too domestic. Too settled. But now—Hannah sliding into this space so effortlessly, like she’d always belonged here—damn if it didn’t feel right.
I’d bought my parents’ house as a crash pad, a convenient stop when Shy or I passed through 3C.
Nothing more. But as we settled around the table, benches worn smooth from years of use, the warmth in my chest unfurled, unexpected and steady.
Not just contentment. Something weightier.
A tether I hadn’t seen forming until it was already there.
Mateo’s words from earlier resurfaced. I’d caught him alone while Tiago cooked, asked him about Merri’s time at Arvon. The kid had hesitated, clearly weighing loyalty to his school’s coach against family ties.
“Coach Wylie’s amazing,” he’d finally said. “The guys all respect her. Well, now they do. There was some drama before my time—this player who went pro and turned out to be a fuckboy. But she shut down anyone who tried to bring it up after that.”
No need to say Cale’s name. The tightness in Mateo’s voice told me everything—how that mess had stuck to Merri, how it had stained her reputation at Arvon.
Now, watching Mateo tease Hannah about her skateboard, something hot and sharp flared in my chest. Merri had clawed her way back from all that, earned respect the hard way—no shortcuts, no favors. She had done it with sweat, skill, and stubbornness. No wonder she guarded it so fiercely.
“You gonna sit on it?” Mateo asked Hannah. “If you slide under the table, I’m not helping you up.”
My daughter giggled, even as she wiggled the board out from beneath her rear and wedged it between herself and the back of the bench.
Tiago slid a burger onto the plate in front of Shy, his hands steady and deliberate, as though placing it there was a sacred act. “No tomato,” he murmured, his accent thick but soft. “Extra blue cheese and bacon. Si, mi conejita?”
The tenderness in that simple gesture hit different now. Watching Tiago with Shy, seeing how he’d built her trust day by day, showed me what Merri deserved. What I could give her, if she’d let me.
Mateo’s words from earlier—how Merri had rebuilt herself—rippled through me.
She hadn’t just bounced back. She’d fought her way up from the wreckage, dragging her reputation out of the mud with nothing but her own two hands.
My girl could smile like the weight of the world never touched her, but I knew better.
Beneath that smile, Merri was all fire, grit, and a quiet fury that refused to let her be anything less than what she’d fought to become.
Hannah dunked a fry in her weird BBQ-mayo-mustard concoction, bouncing on the bench to a rhythm only she could hear as Mateo spoke softly about some video game.
“We met some dude at the bakery who said he was helping set up for the Killbillies,” Hannah told Mateo around a mouthful of crinkle fries, her voice adding another layer of warmth to the room. “We’re gonna see them tomorrow.”
“Did you bring your skates?” Tiago asked as he squirted ketchup on Shy’s plate. My sister might’ve found the one man more protective than me.
“I can’t skate.” Hannah’s voice clouded over and she picked at the lettuce poking out the side of her burger. “I ride a skateboard.”
I swallowed down a mouthful of onion ring swimming in BBQ sauce. “You’ll learn in no time.”
“I guess.”
Shy set her burger down, leaned back on the wooden bench, and tipped her head to rest on Tiago’s shoulder. “If you want to, you will. You may have to practice, but you had to practice skateboarding, right? No big deal.”
Tiago slid his hand beneath Shy’s long hair, massaging her neck. My sister’s eyes drifted closed, no hesitation, no questioning whether he’d welcome her weight against him.
“Headache?” I asked.
She popped her eyes open. “I’m good.”
Growing up, Shy and I learned quick that silence meant survival. But tonight’s quiet felt different. Not empty, but full. Where my parents had absent-mindedly attended to our needs, something deeper filled these old walls now.