19. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Scarlett
“I hope Spike enjoys his bark-day cake.” Spike is a little terrier mix, with a horrible overbite, whose fur sticks up on the top of his head. When my customer's three-year-old son saw him, he immediately called out ‘Spike’ and the dog responded. The rest is history.
Today Spike is eight.
“I’m positive he’ll love it. He can never get enough of your treats. And thank you for Ian’s goodie too. He always feels a little left out when the dog gets one. Even though I always tell him this is a bakery for other dogs and Spike.”
My cheeks pull up, and a chuckle escapes.
“I completely get it! My brother and cousins always want a treat.” I shrug.
“I just let them have whatever they want. The fact that they forget they didn’t like it previously when they come in the next time blows my mind.
Don’t tell them, but Ian’s is more like a human cookie than a dog treat. ”
“Scarlett, you are the sweetest. Thank you so much for being so kind to both of my boys.” She picks up her bag and turns to head out. “See you next week.”
“Sounds good.” I lift up on my toes and wave goodbye, then pick up a cloth and start wiping down the counter.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, a smile easily sliding across my face.
Steven:
Mom and Jacob want to meet up for dinner tonight, and want us to join them.
Are you free?
It’s been two weeks since the fiasco at my parents’ house, and we haven’t figured out a way to tell our families what is actually going on.
Though honestly neither one of us has been trying very hard.
The only exceptions are Miles and Wyatt, who found out almost immediately after the Ryan incident.
They’ve been our tormentors ever since. Shaking my head, I snort. It used to be so much fun watching Wyatt and Miles tease Steven. But it’s not the same when you’re the one being teased.
Since then, I’ve apologized multiple times to Steven for laughing at his expense all those years. I’ve also told him that we need to figure out how to get back at them.
So far we’ve been unsuccessful.
Me:
I’m free. What time?
Steven:
I’ll pick you up at 7pm
“Goof.” The grin on my face widens.
Me:
See you later
Staring at the screen, I re-read his messages.
‘Dating’ Steven hasn’t changed our friendship, and yet, everything's changed.
But in the best way.
I start rearranging the half-empty treat trays together. It’s not closing time for a few more hours, but I need to see what I have to bake for tomorrow. We’re running low on dog houses, fire hydrants, and tennis balls.
Staring at the dog house treats, I’m reminded of how Steven’s dad used to tease their mom about being in the dog house for one reason. When Uncle Duncan started making them for Duncan’s Donuts For Dogs, Steven thought his dad would get a kick out of seeing it, so we brought him one.
That was the day.
Steven’s hand tightens on his dad’s arm, and his eyes shine. Swiping a finger across his cheek, he pushes himself up from his chair and asks, “Anyone thirsty? I’m thirsty.”
My chair scratches against the floor as I stand up. “I’ll come—”
“Scarlett,” Mr. Bennett calls from his bed, his voice scratchy, “Will you wait with me while Steven gets our drinks?”
Glancing back at Steven, he nods stiffly before leaving the room.
A soft beep mixes in with the low murmurs of the television showing reruns of Seinfeld, Mr. Bennett's favorite show.
But tonight he hasn’t laughed once.
Tugging at the hem of my t-shirt, I move to sit next to the man who, in his prime, would easily lift all three of his sons in the air. Now he’s struggling to hold himself upright.
“Please don’t look at me like that, Scarlett. It makes me feel like I’m dying or something.” The mischievous smile on his lips, the same one Steven flashes me, has the corner of my mouth curling up in response.
Taking Steven’s seat, I mumble. “Now I know where Wyatt gets his dark humor from.”
A chuckle escapes before he starts coughing. Less than a minute later, he’s taking slow, deep breaths that help him breathe normally. “If I asked something of you, would you help me?”
“Of course! I’m your girl.”
“Even if it had to do with my son?” Without hesitation, I nod, and he grins. His tired eyes show a hint of the sparkle that I was so used to seeing. “Even without knowing what it is?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m pretty certain you wouldn’t have me doing anything illegal.”
Mr. Bennett throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, and I beam at him. But then, almost immediately, coughs overtake his fragile frame, and he’s doubled over. My hand trembles as I gingerly pat his back while glancing at the door, hoping to see a nurse.
“Sit, Scarlett,” he says raggedly, struggling to breathe. “I’m fine.”
Slowly I sit back down.
“It’s not illegal,” he grins, his breath shallow. “But I do want to ask you a private question, and I need you to be honest with me. May I?”
“Anything.” I’ve known Steven since I was eight, and his family for almost as long, but as close as we are, this is new.
“Even if I asked you to keep it a secret from Steven?”
I hesitate, feeling the weight of Mr. Bennett’s gaze on my face. This is important to him, but Steven and I don’t have any secrets.
Except one.
Exhaling, I slowly dip my chin.
“Are you in love with my son?”
My mouth flaps open before I can snap it shut, and my head whips toward the door.
Steven’s dad’s face lights up. “I knew it. Wait until I see my wife.”
My face burns at my admission. I press my hands against my cheeks in an attempt to get rid of the heat. But Mr. Bennet either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
“Steven tells me you fashion yourself a matchmaker.”
My brows shoot up, surprised Steven would share that. “He’s exaggerating.” I wave a hand, dismissing it.
“But people come to you? And you help them?”
“I try.”
He nods. A ghost of a smile crosses his lips before he rests his cold hand on mine. “Promise me something?”
I nod.
“Don’t let Steven quit hockey. He needs to see if he can go all the way.”
“I wouldn't dream of letting him do that. He’s way too talented.”
Mr. Bennett nods his approval. “Always be his best friend.”
“An even easier ask.”
“He’s going to need you when—” He squeezes my hand, and a lump rises in my throat.
“I know this is a lot, and I’m sorry to be putting it on you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I want to help.”
“You know Steven better than anyone else. You know what he wants. Help him open himself to love. Can you do that for me?”
Swallowing hard, I try to push the cotton lodged in my throat.
“I know that the two of you—”
“They didn’t have any Root Beer so I got Ginger Ale instead,” Steven says as he enters the hospital room.
Mr. Bennett squeezes my hand again, his eyes trying to convey the rest of what he was going to say. But I don’t understand. Then he mouths, “Promise?”
Steven shoves a can in my hand before turning to face his dad. Mr. Bennett’s gaze is still on me. I give a halfhearted smile and nod.
He sinks back in his chair, flashing his son a strained smile. “You know I love both.”
‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’ barks blast from the speakers. Shaking my head, I set the dog house treat back on the tray.
“Just give me a second.”
“Sure.” My head whips at the sound of Declan’s voice. His hands are stuffed in his jean pockets, and he’s wearing a sheepish expression.
Dropping the dog house back on the tray, my teeth grind together, the memory of Steven’s pain still fresh in my mind. And the part Declan played coming back full force.
“What do you want, Declan?” My tone is harder than it’s been in a very long time.
There’s a flicker of surprise in his gaze that’s gone just as quickly. “Everything okay?”
I blink. Surprised at his question.
“Scarlett…” Dec runs a hand through his hair and blows out a sigh. “I know in the past I wasn’t always the nicest person.” My brow quirks, and he snorts, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, that’s a total understatement. I was a complete…”
“I can come up with a few words, if you need some help.” I cross my arms and lean against the counter.
“I’m sure yours would be more polite than the ones I’ve been called.”
My eyes narrow. “Maybe. But then again, you don’t know me that well.” Declan’s lips tug up, and I push off the counter. “So what can I do for you today?”
He shoves his hands back in his pockets, and his shoulders hunch slightly. “Do you know how I would get in touch with Emma?”
My brows shoot up. “Are you going to ask about Millie?”
Declan swallows and then tugs at the collar of his shirt. “Are you supposed to ask me that?”
“I can ask you anything I want. That doesn’t mean you have to answer.” I laugh at the pink that’s creeping up his neck. “All you have to do is go to Emma’s website and fill out the questionnaire. Once done, she’ll reach out to you.”
“That’s it?” His eyes widen.
“That’s the beginning.”
He nods. “Thanks Scarlett.”
“You’re welcome, Declan.”
He turns to leave, but hesitates before shaking his head, then making his way toward the exit. When he gets there, he waves before heading out the door.
Wait until I tell Steven.