Chapter 10
Avery
The muffins looked… edible.
Barely.
Avery set the tray on the counter, exhaling a shaky breath.
The kitchen still smelled faintly of burnt batter and cleaning spray, but at least the oven wasn’t trying to kill her anymore.
She and Noah had spent nearly an hour cleaning up the chaos she’d created: flour clouds, sticky batter splatters, a bowl that had somehow ricocheted off three surfaces before hitting the floor.
They’d laughed. They’d touched. They’d remembered.
And now she was standing here, staring at a tray of lumpy muffins, trying not to think about the way Noah’s hand had brushed hers or how close he’d stood behind her when he’d shown her how to adjust the oven’s rusty temperature gauge.
She picked up one muffin, turning it over. “Well… they’re not exploding. That’s progress.”
Behind her, Noah huffed a quiet laugh. “Low bar, Aves.”
She rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered anyway. “You want to try one?”
He hesitated, just long enough for her stomach to twist, then stepped closer. “Yeah. Sure.”
She handed him a muffin. Their fingers brushed again, and the spark that shot up her arm was immediate and unwelcome and way too familiar. He still smelled faintly of cold air and leather, like the moment he’d stepped between her and that stranger.
He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Raised an eyebrow. “It’s… not terrible.”
Avery gasped. “High praise.”
He smirked. “Don’t get cocky.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “Don’t act like you’re the expert.”
“Someone has to be.” The words were light, teasing, but the air between them wasn’t. It was thick, warm, and charged with something neither of them wanted to name.
Noah set the muffin down, leaning back against the counter. “Why’d you come back, Aves?”
Her breath caught. He wasn’t teasing anymore.
Avery wiped her hands on a towel, suddenly aware of how quiet the bakery felt. “Because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
He didn’t move.
She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. “After college… everything fell apart faster than I could keep up with.”
Noah’s gaze sharpened, but he stayed silent.
“I got a job right out of school. A good one. Something I thought would finally make all the years away worth it.” Her throat tightened. “Then the company restructured. My entire department was cut. One email and I was done. No warning. No severance. Just… gone.”
Noah’s jaw flexed.
“And my boyfriend, Ryan?” She let out a shaky breath. “I found out he’d been cheating on me. Not just once. Not just recently. Probably from the beginning. I was living with someone who didn’t even like me enough to pretend.”
Her voice cracked, but she pushed through it.
“I kept trying to build a life that didn’t fit.
Trying to prove I hadn’t made a mistake leaving here.
Trying to pretend I wasn’t lonely or exhausted or…
lost.” She blinked hard, eyes burning. “And then Aunt Clara died. And suddenly the only person who ever made me feel like I belonged anymore was gone.”
She looked up at him, raw and exposed.
“I realized I’d been running from home for years. And I didn’t have anything left to run.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating.
Noah didn’t speak at first.
He just stood there, jaw tight, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor like he was debating whether to say anything at all. When he finally looked up, something in his expression had shifted. Not softer, exactly, but less guarded. Like he’d stopped holding his breath.
“You wanna know what happened after you left?” he said quietly.
Avery nodded.
He exhaled through his nose, slow and heavy. “I enlisted the morning after you drove off for college. Didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t think it mattered.”
Her chest tightened. “Noah…”
He shook his head. “I needed to get out of here. Needed to become someone who didn’t fall apart after you walked away.”
He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, but it wasn’t defensive — it was bracing.
“The military… it was different. Hard. Brutal sometimes. But it made sense. Orders made sense. Missions made sense. Pain made sense.” His voice dropped. “People depended on me. And I depended on them. It was the first time since you left that I felt like I wasn’t… empty.”
He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was staring past her, into memories she could tell he didn’t talk about.
“I saw things I don’t talk about,” he said. “Did things I don’t talk about. Lost people I shouldn’t have lost. Guys who were closer to me than my own blood.” His jaw flexed. “And when I came home, it was like the world had moved on without me. Like I didn’t fit anywhere.”
He finally met her eyes again. “Stone was putting together a new chapter and needed a home base. I told him to bring it here… figured it was the one thing I could still offer.” His voice dropped. “Didn’t expect the club to feel like family… not after everything.”
Avery swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
His laugh was low and humorless. “You were gone, Aves. You had your life. Your future. I wasn’t gonna call you from a base halfway across the world and say, ‘Hey, I’m falling apart without you.’”
Her heart twisted painfully. “I would’ve answered.”
“No,” he said softly. “You wouldn’t have.”
She stepped closer. “You don’t know that.”
He looked at her then, and the hurt in his eyes was sharp enough to cut.
“You left,” he said again, voice rough. “And I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with me.”
She stepped toward him. “You didn’t ask me to stay.”
His breath tightened, just barely, but she saw it.
He looked away, jaw clenched so tight she thought it might crack. “I shouldn’t have had to.”
The words hit her like a bruise she didn’t know she still carried. She wished she could go back and shake the girl who’d waited for an answer he never gave.
Her heart twisted. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”
He laughed once, the sound low and bitter. “Yeah. Well. I figured that out.”
She took another step closer. “Noah…”
“Don’t,” he snapped, voice rough. “Don’t say my name like that.” His voice cracked on the last word, barely, but enough.
“Like what?”
“Like you still have a right to it.”
The air between them crackled.
Avery’s pulse pounded in her ears. “I’m trying to talk to you.”
“And I’m trying not to say something I can’t take back.”
She stopped cold.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, pacing once before stopping in front of her again, closer than she was ready for.
“You want the truth?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “I didn’t write because I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me. I didn’t call because I didn’t think you cared. You left, Aves. You walked away from everything we were.”
Her throat tightened. “I didn’t know what we were.”
His eyes burned. “Yeah. That was the problem.”
The tension between them thickened, a charge neither of them could ignore.
Avery’s breath shook. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You did.”
“I know.”
He looked at her then — really looked at her — and something in his expression cracked. Just a little. Just enough.
She stepped closer, voice soft. “You’re still hurting.”
He flinched like she’d touched a bruise. “Don’t.”
“Noah…”
He shook his head sharply. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” He gestured between them, frustrated, raw. “You. Me. Talking like we didn’t burn each other down.”
Her heart twisted. “We didn’t burn…”
“Yes, we did.”
He turned away, heading for the door.
“Noah, wait…”
He stopped with his hand on the handle, shoulders rigid.
For a moment, she thought he might turn back. Say something real. Let her in.
But he didn’t.
He walked out before he said something he couldn’t take back.
The door shut behind him with a soft click that felt louder than a slam.
Avery stood in the middle of Sweet Treats, chest tight, eyes burning.
He was still hurting. Still angry. Still hers in ways neither of them knew how to handle.
The past was bleeding into the present.
And the chemistry between them was thick enough to choke on.