Chapter 10
Sunday morning arrived without mercy.
The hurt. The way he'd tried to hide it.
She'd texted him last night asking to talk today, and he'd agreed. But his response had been so unlike him—short, distant. Like he was already pulling away.
Maybe that was for the best. Maybe she was saving them both from a bigger heartbreak down the road.
Lucy's phone buzzed at 5:30. Not Jake. Uncle Walter.
Uncle Walter: The Gazette published an article about the bakery sale. You should probably read it before you go out today.
Lucy's stomach sank. She pulled up the Timber Falls Gazette website and found the article immediately.
LOCAL INSTITUTION THE brEAD BASKET TO BE SOLD TO OUT-OF-TOWN DEVELOPERS
After 43 years of family ownership, The Bread Basket will be sold to Barrett Development, a regional company specializing in restaurant expansion. Owner Lucy Chen, granddaughter of founder Margaret Chen, confirmed the sale Friday.
"My grandmother built something incredible," Chen said. "I believe this sale will allow her legacy to reach more people."
But not everyone in Timber Falls agrees. Several longtime customers expressed disappointment with the decision.
"Margaret Chen poured her heart into this bakery," said Patricia Henderson, a Timber Falls resident of 40 years. "It's heartbreaking to see it sold to outsiders who don't understand what it means to this community."
The article went on for three more paragraphs—quotes from the Knitting Circle, from Tom and Jerry, from Mr. Peterson. All of them expressing disappointment. All of them making Lucy sound like a traitor.
Barrett Development plans to open two additional locations in Burlington and Stowe, while keeping the original Timber Falls location as their flagship. They've offered Chen a consulting position, though she has not yet decided whether to accept.
"Change is never easy," said Mayor Robert Coleman. "But we hope Barrett Development will honor the legacy Margaret Chen built and maintain the quality and character that made The Bread Basket a Timber Falls treasure."
Lucy set down her phone and felt tears start.
The whole town knew. And the whole town was disappointed in her.
She should stay in bed. Should hide in her apartment until this blew over. But she had to open the bakery—she'd promised Mae she'd take the morning shift today so Mae could study for finals.
Lucy forced herself to shower and dress. She pulled her hair into its usual bun, put on her flour-covered work jeans and a Bread Basket t-shirt. Armor. Protection against the world.
At 6 AM, she walked downstairs to the bakery and started her morning prep.
The first batch of pork buns went into the steamer. Lucy watched them cook and thought about Jake—three years of Wednesday mornings, always the same order, always that quiet "thanks" that had somehow become the most reliable part of her week.
And she'd pushed him away.
At 7 AM, Mae arrived with coffee and a sympathetic expression.
"Read the article?"
"Everyone in town has probably read it by now."
"Yeah." Mae set down the coffee. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing."
"You're the only one."
"That's not true. Uncle Walter supports you. Rei supports you. Jake supports you—"
"I told Jake I needed space."
Mae's eyes went wide. "Lucy. Why?"
"Because I panicked. Because everyone's so disappointed in me and Jake got hurt and I just—I couldn't handle it. I needed to breathe."
"So you pushed away the one person who's been completely supportive?"
"I know. I messed up. We're supposed to talk today."
"Then fix it. Tell him you were scared. Tell him you didn't mean it."
But before Lucy could respond, the door chimed.
Mrs. Henderson walked in with her ancient beagle. She looked at Lucy and her expression was cold.
"I'm here for Mr. Henderson's medication pickup," she said, gesturing to the pharmacy next door that shared a wall with the bakery.
"But while I'm here, I thought you should know—the Knitting Circle is boycotting this place until the sale is finalized.
We won't support a business that's being sold out from under us. "
Lucy felt like she'd been slapped. "Mrs. Henderson, please—"
"Your grandmother would be ashamed." Mrs. Henderson turned and walked out without another word.
Mae grabbed Lucy's hand. "Don't listen to her. She's just upset—"
But Lucy was already retreating to the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.
This was it. This was what happened when you chose yourself over everyone else's expectations. You lost everything.
Jake woke at 6 AM with his shoulder screaming and his mind replaying last night on loop.
Maybe we don't actually know each other at all.
Lucy's words kept circling. Did she really believe that? Or was she just scared?
His phone showed two missed calls from Derek, his former agent. Jake ignored them and got ready for the day.
He was supposed to talk to Lucy today, but he had youth hockey practice first. The kids would be a good distraction from the hollow feeling in his chest.
At the rink, Emma Rodriguez bounced up to him immediately.
"Coach Jake! Did you read the article?"
Jake's stomach sank. "What article?"
"About Miss Lucy's bakery! My mom showed me. Everyone's talking about it."
Of course they were. This was Timber Falls.
Jake pulled up the Gazette article on his phone and felt his jaw tighten. They'd made Lucy sound like a sellout. Had included quotes from people she'd fed for years, all of them expressing disappointment.
No wonder she was spiraling.
"Is Miss Lucy okay?" Emma asked. "My mom says people are being mean to her."
"I'm sure she's fine," Jake said, not believing it.
Practice was distracted. Jake tried to focus on the kids, but his mind kept drifting to Lucy. To the article. To the way she'd looked last night—panicked and overwhelmed and pushing him away because that was easier than letting him help.
After practice, Tommy pulled Jake aside.
"You look like hell."
"Thanks."
"What's going on? And don't say 'nothing' because I've known you too long."
Jake told him about last night—about Lucy asking for space, about the article, about feeling helpless to fix any of it.
Tommy was quiet for a moment. "You know what your problem is?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"You're trying to fix it. But some things can't be fixed—they just have to be lived through. Lucy needs to make her own choice about the bakery. The town needs to adjust. And you need to decide if you're willing to wait while she figures it out."
"What if she decides I'm not worth it? That we moved too fast?"
"Then you'll deal with that. But Jake—don't make the decision for her. Don't pull away because you're scared she will. That's not fair to either of you."
After Tommy left, Jake sat in the empty rink and checked his phone. No messages from Lucy.
He should text her. Should ask when she wanted to talk. But something held him back—fear that she'd changed her mind, that she really did want space, that last night hadn't been a panic but a realization.
His phone rang. Derek.
Jake answered. "Derek. What's up?"
"I have good news. Steve Kowalski called. They're still interested despite you turning them down last week. They have another spot open—someone got injured—and they want to know if you'd reconsider."
Jake's heart stuttered. "They want me to reconsider?"
"Yeah. Same offer. Two-way contract, AHL with NHL call-ups. But they need an answer by tomorrow. Can't wait longer than that."
"I—" Jake looked around the empty rink. His home. His choice. "I already turned it down."
"I know. But situations change. Maybe yours has changed too."
After Derek hung up, Jake sat in the silence and thought about Lucy. About how she'd questioned whether they really knew each other. About how the town was turning on her. About how everything felt like it was falling apart.
What if he'd made the wrong choice? What if turning down Nashville had been a mistake?
What if Lucy left for culinary school in a few months and never came back? What if Jake stayed in Timber Falls, coaching hockey, eating pork buns alone, wondering what might have been?
His phone buzzed. Marcus.
Marcus: Read the article. How's Lucy?
Jake: I don't know. We're supposed to talk today but she hasn't texted about when.
Marcus: You should go to her.
Jake: She asked for space.
Marcus: She was scared. That's different from actually wanting space.
Jake: Or maybe she was being honest and I need to respect that.
Marcus: Jake don't do this
Jake: Do what?
Marcus: Pull away because you're scared she will first. I've watched you do this for three years with everything in your life. Don't do it with her.
Jake set down his phone without responding. Marcus was wrong. Jake wasn't pulling away—he was giving Lucy what she'd asked for.
Except Marcus wasn't wrong. And Jake knew it.
He was scared. Terrified that Lucy would realize she could do better, go further, be happier without him. That he was just the convenient guy who happened to live in the apartment next door and eat pork buns every Wednesday.
His phone buzzed again. Not Marcus this time. Lucy.
Lucy: Can we talk at 2? Your place or mine?
Jake stared at the message. This was it. The conversation that would determine everything.
Jake: Mine. 2 PM.
Lucy: See you then.
Jake drove home slowly, his shoulder throbbing, his mind spinning. In six hours, he'd either fight for Lucy or let her go. Either choose to believe that what they had was real or accept that maybe she was right—maybe they'd moved too fast.
Maybe they didn't really know each other at all.
By noon, Lucy was ready to crawl into a hole.
Three more regular customers had come in and expressed disappointment about the bakery sale. Someone had left a one-star review online: "Sad to see a local institution sold out to corporate interests. Won't be returning."
And Mrs. Patterson had walked past the bakery, seen Lucy through the window, and actually shaken her head in disappointment.