Chapter 5
Tessa
The bell chimed softly behind Ace as the door shut.
Silence rushed back into the shop.
Not peaceful silence.
The heavy kind.
The kind that left too much room to think.
I stared at the paper bag sitting on the counter.
Blueberry muffin.
Of course he remembered.
Or asked somebody.
Or paid attention.
Which somehow felt worse.
My fingers brushed the edge of the bag before I caught myself and pulled back.
No.
Absolutely not.
A muffin should not feel dangerous.
And yet my chest tightened just looking at it.
I turned abruptly and headed toward the back cooler before I could do something stupid—like smile.
Cold air wrapped around me the second I stepped inside.
Sharp.
Clean.
Grounding.
I braced both hands against the stainless steel counter and lowered my head.
“Get it together,” I whispered.
The words came out shaky.
Not convincing at all.
Because the truth was—
Ace Mercer was starting to matter.
And that terrified me.
You wouldn’t look at me the same way after.
The memory of saying those words scraped against something deep inside my chest.
Because I knew exactly what happened when people finally saw the ugly parts.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
But it was already too late.
The memory came anyway.
“I wasn’t driving.”
Rain hammered against the kitchen windows hard enough to rattle the glass.
My hands shook so badly I could barely hold onto the edge of the table.
Across from me, my mother crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
“Tessa—”
“No.” My voice cracked. “Mom, listen to me. Cathy was driving. She lost control and—”
“You confessed.”
The words hit like a slap.
I stared at her.
“She asked me to,” I whispered. “She was dying. She didn’t want her parents to—”
“Stop.”
I flinched so hard my shoulder clipped the counter behind me.
My mother’s face looked pale.
Exhausted.
But not confused.
Not uncertain.
She thought I was lying.
“I raised you better than this,” she said quietly.
The ache in my chest split wider.
“I’m telling the truth.”
“You signed the statement.”
Because Cathy begged me to.
Because blood was everywhere.
Because she was crying.
Because I promised.
My throat burned.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
My mother shook her head slowly, disappointment settling over her features like something permanent.
And somehow that hurt more than yelling would have.
“This accident already destroyed enough lives,” she said softly. “Don’t make yourself into someone you’re not too.”
The room tilted beneath me.
Because she didn’t believe me.
The one person who should have known me best—
didn’t believe a word I said.
“Mom—”
But she turned away.
Just walked out of the kitchen while I stood there shaking apart piece by piece.
The memory shattered suddenly.
I sucked in a sharp breath as the cooler came back into focus around me.
Cold air burned my lungs.
My hands trembled against the metal counter.
I pressed one hand hard against the center of my chest like I could physically hold myself together.
“That was years ago,” I whispered.
But my body didn’t seem to know the difference.
It still felt fresh.
Still felt like standing in that kitchen begging someone to believe me.
I forced myself upright after a minute and pushed back out into the shop.
Sunlight spilled across the floor.
The flowers smelled sweet and bright and alive.
And sitting in the middle of the counter—
waiting for me—
was the muffin.
I stared at it for a long moment before finally walking over and picking it up.
The paper crinkled softly beneath my fingers.
One bite.
That was all I meant to take.
Blueberries and sugar melted warm against my tongue, familiar enough to ache.
Comforting.
Safe.
My eyes closed briefly before I could stop them.
And that was the problem.
Because comfort led to trust.
Trust led to hope.
And hope—
hope was what destroyed you when people finally walked away.
I swallowed hard and set the muffin back down carefully.
But the damage was already done.
Because somewhere deep down—
a part of me wanted to believe Ace Mercer meant every word he said.