Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

From the Kitchen of Verbena Fullbright

When making cupcakes, I use an ice cream scoop to make quick work of filling the tins. It ensures each cupcake will be the same size so they bake evenly. In a busy kitchen, it's best to work smarter, not harder. That way there's still time to dance.

Addie

"Good morning, punkin!" Aunt Bean said, waving me into the kitchen in the big red barn.

It was a cool Monday morning filled with early light and cheerful birdsong. I'd been surprised to find her here when I opened the door, thinking she was still tucked into bed, getting some much-needed rest. The farmhouse had been quiet when I crept down the stairs, trying not to stir the dogs, who were sleeping with Tessa Jane.

Here in the barn, music blared from the record player, and as the Bee Gees sang a disco ballad about emotion taking over, being tied up in sorrow, Aunt Bean danced over to me, leaving her walking stick leaning against the counter. "Come on in, come dance with me."

She reached out, and I didn't hesitate to place my hand in hers. I held on tightly and twirled her slowly. She laughed, the sound lifting my spirits like nothing else. Smiling like fools, we danced, lost in the moment, lost in the melody of the song, lost in memories of when we used to do this kind of thing all the time.

She was already dressed for the day, and I wasn't sure how I hadn't heard her moving about in the early hours, since I hadn't slept much at all. A long, flowy dress patterned in a design that reminded me of stained glass swirled around her ankles. White tennis shoes completed the outfit—her usual work footwear. Her burgundy hair was styled about as high as it could be, reminding me this morning of the cartoon character Jimmy Neutron. She wore a full face of makeup, including deep red lipstick.

As the song ended, she sashayed toward the record player, to lower the volume. "I sure am glad you came by when you did. Dancing is always better with two."

How a song about heartbreak could fill me with happiness was beyond me, but Aunt Bean had made it happen.

She gave me a good once-over as she headed back to a workbench. "What're you doing up and about so early?"

On the stainless steel surface was a stand mixer, two sticks of softened butter, three eggs, flour, sugar, oil, buttermilk, baking powder, salt, and a bottle of vanilla extract. Just enough ingredients for a single cake.

"I came to work on my studio." I planned to hang the acoustic tiles so I could record tonight.

"I hope you weren't planning to record."

"Why?" I asked warily as I sat on a stool.

Her hair flopped a bit as she sighed. "The electricity is on the fritz again—quite a few of the outlets aren't working. I've already texted Sawyer. If it isn't fixed by tomorrow, it's going to be another hellacious week, and we don't be needing that, do we?"

No. No, we didn't.

We also didn't need the barn burning down, so I was glad she called to have it checked.

She glanced at her watch. "He'll be here as soon as Luna's off to school."

At least I didn't have to worry about Luna tagging along with him. Not that I didn't enjoy her company. I did—she was funny and sassy and a ball of energy. But with her around I was always on edge, trying to keep Ree's secret while fielding questions like, "Did my mom like cake?" "Did my mom ever work at the bakery?" "Did my mom stop liking the Bee Gees after listening to them all the time when she was working?"

They were easy questions to answer. Yes, yes, and actually, once Aunt Bean showed Ree an online image of Andy Gibb, she'd hung a picture of him on her vision board.

So far, Luna's questions had led only to fond memories being pulled out, dusted off. On her first day of helping in the barn, Delilah had been more than happy to talk about the time, early in my Audrey Hepburn phase, that Pinky had caught Ree and me behind the bakery sneaking a cigarette. In effort to help me replicate Audrey's classic look in Breakfast at Tiffany's , Ree had fashioned a two-foot-long twig into a cigarette holder, but unfortunately, as neither of us were smokers, we'd ended up having coughing fits—which was what had drawn Pinky's attention.

Delilah's retelling led me to finish the story by sharing with everyone that after Pinky had lectured Ree and me on the dangers of smoking, she then confiscated the cigarette and finished it. She'd smiled the whole time she puffed away, saying, "Do as I say, not as I do, girls."

Luna had laughed with pure delight at the story, making it feel like Ree was right there in the kitchen with us. Which, it turned out, was more comforting than distressing. A nice surprise.

"Will Sawyer need to go upstairs?" I asked.

"Can't see why he would."

I breathed a sigh of relief as she cracked an egg into a small bowl. "Are you making a cake for someone?" It was unusual for her to bake on her days off unless it was a special occasion.

"I'm experimenting." There was a glint in her eye as she leaned forward, toward me, as if we were in a crowded room and not the only ones in the barn. "A new recipe for the bakery. I'm feeling the need to give back. To be appreciative for the life I've been given, the life I've led. All proceeds from this cake will be diverted for charity. I'm actually a mite shamed I never thought of it before now."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Charities like the Starling Society?"

She smiled, nodded. "Now, picture this if you will," she said, her voice rising dramatically. "Fluffy vanilla sponge with a hint of almond. A thin layer of raspberry jam. Pillowy whipped cream filling and frosting."

I could picture it quite well and suddenly I was hungry. "It sounds amazing. I volunteer to be a taste-tester."

"I'll hold you to that."

Rubbing a thumb along the edge of the counter, I said, "Can you think of a reason why I'd have heard about the Starling Society before Henrietta told us about it? It sounds so familiar. Do you think it's possible I overheard Henrietta and my daddy talking about it at some point when I was little?"

"Perhaps. But there's another possibility." She lowered herself onto a stool, rubbed the face of her watch, and said, "Ree."

Almost immediately I saw a business card in my mind's eye. One for the Starling Society with a 1-800 phone number. It had been in Ree's bedroom, and I remember it had caught my eye among all the crafting supplies because of the bird silhouette on the card. She'd brushed aside my question about it, saying only that she'd picked it up because she liked the design.

"Henrietta knew Ree?" I asked, my chest heavy.

"I believe she paid Ree a visit a time or two."

"But how?"

Aunt Bean tipped her head, gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. "I may have put them in touch when I saw bruises on Ree's arms after she started dating Ace Buckley. Thank the heavens Henrietta, with all her experience, eventually managed to get through to her."

I hadn't thought it possible for anyone to get through to her. I'd tried. Sawyer. Her granny. I needed to give Henrietta a big hug, not only for helping Ree but for her work in general. I held Aunt Bean's gaze. "Thank you."

She nodded but I saw the tears in her eyes. She'd loved Ree as much as I had, and right now we were both very much aware that we'd lost her all the same.

Outside came the sound of wheels on the driveway. I looked out, saw Sawyer's ruby-red truck. I wiped my eyes and hopped off my stool. "I should get upstairs."

She gave me a gentle smile. "Punkin, aren't you tired of runnin'? It's got to be exhausting. Might could be the perfect time for you step out of that shadow and stand your ground."

The truck door slammed.

The word shadow echoed in my head, and I suddenly knew Aunt Bean was aware I was keeping a secret. A big one.

The star pendant warmed in my hands as I squeezed it.

"You know you can tell me anything, Addie. I'll take your secrets to the grave."

She would. I knew she would. I'd always known. But if I told her, then I'd have to finally admit the real reason I'd run away, and I couldn't quite bring myself to do that.

As Sawyer passed by the take-out window, my heart skipped a beat.

"I need to go," I said, my voice cracking, my emotion taking over, tying me up in sorrow.

And with that I bolted for the stairs.

Running away.

Again.

Upstairs, I'd put in earbuds and went to work, attaching the acoustic panels to the walls of the storage room. I'd turned up the volume for the soundtrack to Wicked to ensure I couldn't hear anything going on downstairs. No mixing, no whizzing, no Bee Gees. And especially not the sound of Sawyer's voice. Or, lordy be , his laugh.

His laugh might do me right in.

But about an hour in, I stopped what I was doing, realizing I was wasting my time.

Because I wouldn't need a studio here after all. I had to leave. Leave Starlight.

It turned out my season of happiness hadn't lasted very long at all.

It was proving impossible to avoid Luna and Sawyer. And, after almost telling Bean everything earlier, it had become clear I was losing the battle of keeping Ree's secret. My defenses were in tatters.

Now, I sat on the floor of the studio, my arms wrapped around my knees, plotting my escape. My plan was one that leaned heavily on Tessa Jane taking up my slack, which I realized wasn't fair, but I was desperate.

I rocked a bit as I thought about leaving, about excluding myself once again. I was going to miss sleepy breakfasts with Tessa Jane and Aunt Bean, where I'd make them laugh by giving the bear-shaped honey container a high-pitched British aristocratic voice to issue the weather forecast for the day. I'd miss the crazy fun, like when the ducks ran wild in the house. I'd miss impromptu dance parties. And late nights on the couch, the scent of popcorn in the air as Aunt Bean sighed over George Clooney. I'd miss everyday moments with Tessa Jane, like washing dishes together. Or how we'd both reach for our pendants at the same time. Such a sisterly thing to do.

I'd miss belonging.

But it was the price I was willing to pay for Luna to have stability, dependability, security, serenity.

Birmingham was less than two hours away. I could drive here on days when I was most needed. Like when Bean had a doctor's appointment. Or one of the Sugarbirds was out of town. It wasn't the easiest commute, but it was doable. I just had to figure out how to tell Aunt Bean. And could only hope she'd understand.

When someone tapped me on my shoulder, I let out a yip and nearly jumped clear out of my skin. Pressing one hand to my pounding heart, I used the other to pull out my earbuds.

Sawyer stood there, a plate in his hand. The door behind him stood wide open. "Sorry. I knocked and called out your name. When you didn't answer, I got worried."

I scrambled to my feet, trying to pretend that he hadn't found me practically curled into a ball on the floor. "I guess the music was louder than I thought."

"That's not good for your hearing, you know." His voice was kind, concerned.

I almost laughed, because it was something I'd say, but I wasn't really in the laughing mood.

The room suddenly seemed extra small, filled now with his piney scent, with his big heart.

He held out the plate. On it was a fork and piece of vanilla cake with whipped cream frosting. "Apparently, you volunteered to taste test?"

I set my jaw. Knowing Aunt Bean, she'd had ulterior motives with this delivery.

Unfortunately, I'd lost my appetite, but I took the plate from him anyway. "Thanks."

He glanced around the room, at the few wall tiles I'd secured, at my microphone and pop filter. "Do you need any help in here?"

"Nope. I'm good."

"Have you noticed any electrical issues up here?"

"None so far." The scent of him was calling up old memories. Of us walking the train tracks for miles, laughing over silly TV shows, of looking for treasure in the woods, like pinecones and acorns and feathers and hedge apples. I shoved the images away and forced myself to ask, "Did you figure out what's going on downstairs?"

"No. I triple-checked the panel and all the outlets. Everything looks good."

"Strange."

"Very."

I wished there was more space between us and less awkwardness. I wished a lot of things, actually. Mostly, to change the past. I sought out things to count, but the room was pretty much a blank slate. And I would not count his freckles. I wouldn't .

"How's work going?" he asked.

Lord have mercy . "Fine. Good."

"Luna's a big fan."

I started counting the bumps in the acoustic foam and wished the window opened so I could jump out of it. "She's sweet."

"I'm a big fan, too," he added before I could respond. "But then again, I always have been."

My eyebrows snapped down and my grip tightened on the plate.

"What?" he laughed lightly, noticing my reaction. "You don't believe me?"

I tried to calm a rising storm by focusing on the cake. I used the fork to break off a small bite, capturing all the components. A bit of sponge, of cream, of raspberry jam. Then I stuffed it in my mouth. Oh, sweet heaven. The cake was good. Better than good. The sponge was delicate velvet. The whipped cream was silky and smooth with a tangy undertone. The sweet raspberry jam had just enough tartness to balance it all. These cakes were going to fly out the door.

"You should try this," I said, feeling oddly brave as I moved toward the door, my only escape route. "Let's go get you a piece."

He touched my arm, freezing me in place. "Addie."

"It's really good," I told him, unable to look him in the eyes.

"We need to talk."

"No, we don't. We really don't."

He stood firm. "I'm not letting this go. I'm not going to let you shut me out again. This is too important."

What? "Shut you out? You're the one who tossed me aside."

"No."

"Yes."

This was old, painful news, and I hated revisiting it. I stared at the ceiling as if I could find a bucketful of patience in the cracked, stained plaster. I was suddenly reminded of when we were kids, arguing over who won a race through the woods or some other silly competition. Which made me resort to a trick Aunt Bean employed on the rare times Sawyer and I were at odds. A way that would make us listen to one another without interruption.

"Ten seconds," I said. "Go."

Surprise flared in his hazel eyes. "If you didn't want Ree and me to go to homecoming together, you should have said so. Instead you closed yourself off and never let us back in. Not fully."

Ree had devised the plan to go to the dance with Sawyer because she wanted to show Ace she'd moved on. So he'd leave her alone. Simple smoke and mirrors. Only, she hadn't asked Sawyer or me how we felt about it. Just jumped right in, headlong, like she always did.

Until that point, Sawyer and I had always gone to dances together. As friends. But the summer before our senior year, something had changed between us. Since Ree was busy with Ace, Sawyer and I spent almost every free minute together. Alone. We hiked and explored and swam. All things we'd done a million times before. But that summer, an awareness grew. A realization that there was more between us than friendship. I didn't tell anyone how I felt, not even Ree, because it was too delicate, too fragile, too precious.

What grew between Sawyer and me had felt like a waiting game. That if I simply stayed the course, trusted him, I'd eventually get what I was hoping for once he gathered up enough courage to overcome his shyness. Because like Aunt Bean, I was just old-fashioned enough to need him to be the one to make the first move.

So when Ree voiced her homecoming idea, I thought for sure it was the tipping point. I had already told Sawyer about the dress I'd found, and he'd bought blue suede shoes to complement it. We'd talked endlessly about dancing the night away under the October stars—and had even practiced the slow dances, our bodies pressed up against each other, our heartbeats practically audible, our longing gazes saying things with our eyes that we didn't have the nerve yet to say out loud.

I waited for Sawyer to speak up, to tell Ree that she'd have to find someone else to fill in. That he wanted to go to the dance with me, that he wanted to spend the whole night holding me in his arms.

Only he didn't.

The two of them carried on as if fooling everyone at the dance was yet another grand adventure, unable to hear my heart breaking as they practiced waltzing across the room.

I held his gaze now, wondering how it had come to this. We'd once been so close. I'd loved him. There was a chance—a good chance—I still did. Maybe it was that small flame fueling the sudden need to share my feelings, after so many years of keeping them tucked safely inside. So protected I'd never been able to heal.

His jaw jutted. "Ten seconds. Go."

I took a deep breath. "Maybe I should have said something, but I'm not that kind of person. I've never been that kind of person. You knew that. You should've been the one to speak up. And when you didn't, it broke my heart. Of course I retreated. I felt utterly foolish. Clearly I'd read more into our feelings for each other than what was actually there."

He dragged a hand down his face, swore under his breath, and said again, "You should've said something."

"And then," I said, gathering steam, holding on to the cake plate for dear life, "as if going to the dance together wasn't bad enough, you two kept on pretending. Holding hands walking down the halls at school. Snuggling in the cafeteria. I couldn't stand seeing you two together, even if it was just pretend . It physically hurt me to see you love on someone else. Every time we hung out together, it was like picking at an open wound."

"It wasn't real, Addie. You knew that. Mostly, when Ree and I met up, we were trying to figure out how to get you to come back out of your shell. You shut us down at every turn."

He sounded frustrated with me and it was infuriating . "Sure. If it was never real, how do you explain Luna?"

If he thought she was his daughter, then there had to have been an intimate relationship between him and Ree. Did he think I was an idiot?

He took a step back, his face a mask of puzzlement. "You know Luna's not mine, right? Right?" he repeated, almost desperately. "Ree and I were never together ."

I staggered backward, bumped against the wall. My heart raced as I stared at him, looking for lies I couldn't find. Still, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Never together? It didn't make sense. Not after what Ree had told me in the hospital. My mind whirled, trying to remember what she'd said, wondering if I'd somehow misunderstood.

Oh, lord, had this all been one big misunderstanding?

No. No! She'd grabbed my arm and begged me not to tell anyone. Even now I could see the fear in her eyes.

But she had downplayed my concern about Sawyer believing he was Luna's father, hadn't she? She'd easily brushed it aside. Because Sawyer had known Ace was Luna's father? If so, I couldn't fathom why she wouldn't have just told me he knew straight off, except now I realized she was probably already three steps ahead of me in the conversation—trying to get it all out before I found an excuse to leave.

And I would have found one.

Because I hadn't wanted to be in that room when Sawyer came back in, glowing with pride from seeing his new baby.

Ree hadn't known she wouldn't have time to clarify.

None of us could've known how little time we had left with her.

My voice was strained, weak, as I said, "Ree told me about Luna in the hospital after she was born and begged me not to say anything to anyone—to protect Luna." Grief sat heavy on my chest, pushing the air out of my lungs. "Until then, I was under the impression you were her father. Ree didn't—" I took a deep breath. "There wasn't time enough for her to tell me you knew the truth before… Well, before."

His jaw clenched as pain flashed in his eyes.

Before he could say anything, I rushed on. "And because I'd rather die than let one of the Buckleys hurt that baby, I left town before I could let the secret slip."

He knew . All this time and he knew he wasn't her father.

I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. I wanted to cry, to sob with everything I'd been keeping in for the last twelve years. I wanted to run, because this truth hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before. But I kept standing there, knowing it was time to face the past.

Sawyer's voice was rough as he said, "After Ace died and Ree found out she was pregnant, she was in a panic. She didn't want the Buckleys to know about Luna. She was afraid of Luna being hurt, abused. We knew people assumed the baby was mine at that point, so it was easy to keep on pretending. I'd have laid my life down for that baby, to protect her. I still would. I am her father. I learned real quick that it's not blood that makes a family. It's love. Only one thing has changed."

"What's that?"

"Addie, everyone knows she's Ace's biologically."

It took me a moment to process what he was saying. Everyone?

I shook my head. It wasn't possible.

"It's not a secret. Not for a long time now, anyhow. There was really no use in pretending after Luna was born. She's his spitting image. But since I signed paperwork at the hospital acknowledging paternity and my name is on her birth certificate, in the eyes of the law, she's mine. The Buckleys never challenged it. I don't know why. Could be it was the cost of a lawyer. Or maybe in a moment of decency, they realized she was better off with me. Whatever the reason, I'm glad they never did, because I'd have fought tooth and nail for her."

I thought I might be sick. I oh-so-carefully set the dessert plate on the edge of the table, then covered my mouth. My hand trembled.

Everyone knew .

For twelve years, I'd been missing birthdays and engagements and town festivals. Missing Aunt Bean. And Delilah, Willa Jo, and Pinky. Missing Sawyer and Luna.

Missing life.

"Luna is even friendly with Dare," he added. "I'm still a bit wary about her getting too close, even though it seems like he's not like the others."

The words not a secret played in my head on repeat. All these years I'd locked myself away. Cut myself off.

And I hadn't needed to.

My lower lip trembled. Aunt Bean probably thought I already knew the truth. And because she and the Sugarbirds never really talked about Sawyer around me, to protect my feelings, I never heard any gossip, either.

If I hadn't run, I'd have known. Maybe I could have patched things up with Sawyer. Helped him raise Luna.

But I had run.

To protect Luna.

I squeezed my eyes shut and made myself finally face the truth.

I hadn't left only because of Luna.

I'd run away to escape the pain. Of heartbreak. Of grief.

I'd run so I wouldn't have to see Ree's granny around town.

I'd run so I wouldn't have to face Sawyer in a grocery aisle.

Or see him and his sweet baby girl on a hike. Or anywhere .

I'd run because I'd loved him, and I didn't know how to deal with him not loving me back.

So I'd borrowed a page from my mama's book and hit the road. If anyone in this world should've known that running wasn't the answer, it was me. I knew firsthand the damage it caused.

Yet I'd done it anyway. And look where it had gotten me.

I'd lost twelve years of being here, close to everyone and everything I loved.

"And you're right," he said. "I should have spoken up, especially after you didn't go to the dance, which was when I realized how upset you were."

A tear ran down my face as I looked at him.

"But I didn't, because I was scared."

My voice cracked as I said, "Of what?"

"Of my feelings for you. How big they were. It crushed me when you shut down, locked me out. Your heart wasn't the only one that was broken, Addie. And I thought if it hurt that bad when we weren't even officially dating, maybe it was a good thing we never got together. Then next thing I knew I didn't recognize my own life. I'd lost my best friends in the world. But I gained a beautiful, smart, funny little girl who makes my world go round."

I swallowed hard, thinking about the choices we make in life. About regrets. About not speaking up, about not talking problems out. About owning fault. And about forgiveness.

Mostly about forgiveness. Sawyer and I had both made mistakes.

We could leave here right now knowing we'd stuck a piece of tape on what we'd broken. We could be friendly, if not friends. But if there's anything I'd learned from my relationship with Tessa Jane and from finally admitting some hard truths to myself, it's that I don't want a patch. I wanted to heal. I wanted true friendship. I wanted to plant my feet and be firmly here. I wanted the life I should've had if only I'd been brave enough to stick around.

As I counted his freckles, I gathered my courage. "You didn't lose me."

He locked his gaze on mine, gold flecks glinting like treasure in his eyes, his beautiful inner light shining bright. "No?"

"I wasn't lost. I just took a detour. It took me a while to circle back."

He hung his head, his jaw bobbing as he let my words sink in. When he finally looked at me again, there was no denying the hope in his gaze. "So you're staying? In Starlight?"

Was I?

I had no reason to go back to Birmingham. No secrets to hide, no lies to keep telling myself. There was no reason to run . I could finally come home for good.

"I guess I am."

"Luna will be glad to hear that." He smiled and it practically made him glow. "I'm glad, too."

We grinned at each other for a long moment before I said, "Let's get you some cake. You're going to need a sugar boost to help me attach all these tiles to the wall."

As we headed out the door, I felt shy and awkward all of a sudden but determined to not let it stop me from opening up more, to fully share my life. Share who I was. And to embrace all I had.

I was done keeping secrets.

Forever.