Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-five

Over the course of the past few weeks, I've discovered that there are very few scenarios where I can look at Levi without my thoughts straying in a less-than-PG direction. But even that does nothing to prepare me for what might be the sexiest thing my eyes have ever beheld: Levi Shaw kneading scone dough, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his hands and shirt covered in flour, so deep in concentration that his teeth are grazing his lower lip.

I've been anticipating seeing Levi again for two weeks, imagining what we might say or do when the moment came. But I wasn't expecting to find him here, and suddenly all the imagining is out the window, replaced by a firm mental reminder that there are probably laws against doing most things I want to do to Levi right now in a shared commercial kitchen space.

"Hi," I say.

Levi looks up, flour streaked on his nose, his eyes bright in the early morning sun starting to slip in through the windows. "Hey, you," he says, matching a smile I realize has already bloomed on my face.

I cross the room slowly, feeling that pull between us grow taut with demand. "How did you get here?" I ask.

The phone call I made to him about Tea Tide seemed to break some invisible barrier that had kept us only texting since our conversation on the beach. Since then, we've been talking on the phone with each other every night, keeping each other company as we packed and baked and got ourselves in order. Last night he said he'd meet me at the food truck once his bus got in, so the last thing I'm expecting to see is Levi here, a mere fraction away from producing his own soft-core scone porn.

"I took the early morning bus. Dylan said you guys were taking the day to catch up on making the dough, so." He gestures at the open recipe binder, which now has a rotating scone calendar attached to the front. "I figured I'd give us a head start."

I walk over, staring at the perfectly portioned scone dough ready for baking or freezing for later this week.

"Where on earth did you learn to do this?"

"I was in the back of Tea Tide pretending to write for weeks. I picked up a few tricks." His cheeks tinge pink. "Or maybe I just liked watching you bake."

I continue to stare up at him, torn between a tenderness and a sudden, demanding heat pooling low in me. Before I can decide what to do with it, Levi pulls me in and holds me tight to him. I breathe in warmth and brown sugar and Levi and feel a tightness in my chest finally start to loosen even as my heart quickens against my ribs, fluttering so fast that that beat of it spreads all over my body.

"I missed you," I say into his shoulder.

He presses his fingers into my back. "I'm glad to be home."

The word home hums under my skin, spreads another, softer warmth through me. I know his things are in storage. That he's still staying in the rented condo until he finds something more permanent. So he doesn't mean home like a place; he means the home right here in each other's arms.

It washes over me then, a calm, cool tide. He came back. I knew he would. But it's one thing to know it; it's another one entirely to have him here pressed against me, solid and steady and whole, and understand without another word that he's here to stay.

We pull apart, our arms still wrapped around each other, and I tilt my head to better look at his face. This face that I've memorized every curve and angle of, every smile and twitch and quirk, enough to know the expressions that are for me and me alone. Like the one he's settled into right now—a deep and solid kind of contentment in the curve of his lips, a steady burn behind his blue eyes. Satisfaction and desire and so much love that I'd be overcome by the magnitude of it if I didn't feel it myself.

I know we still have a lot to talk about, a lot to work through. But I trust us to figure it out. More importantly, I trust myself to try. If these past few weeks have shown me anything, it's just how much of my life has opened up now that I'm looking ahead instead of trying to hold on to what I've left behind. Now that I'm living for myself and my passion and for the people I love, and not just to get by.

So I don't worry about the words or the work or what's next. For a moment, there's only us—two people who have weathered a storm and come out together on the other side. Two people built to withstand more of them, when they come our way. Two people built to last.

I arch up and press my lips to Levi's, sinking into a deep, roaming kiss, the kind that really does feel like coming home. He presses me into the metal table until I slide back onto it. My legs straddle him as he closes the distance between us, holding a hand to the back of my neck to steady me as the kiss intensifies, two weeks' worth of ache and yearning pent up and spilling out of us at once. I'm half aware of where I am, and half dizzy with the need to touch every part of him I can possibly grab hold of, account for every piece I've been missing while he's been away.

Somewhere outside, a car door slams, followed by the telltale beep beep of someone locking it up. We pull away, both breathless, both searching each other's faces. Both seeing the heat of our own desire, and what's shifting into place under it. The understanding. The trust. All of it stronger now than it was even two weeks ago, fortified not just by a shared history, but a shared future.

Levi keeps his hand on the back of my neck for another moment, his eyes blazing with all of it at once. "I don't ever want to go that long without kissing you ever again," he says lowly.

I slide off the table, pressing another kiss to his lips, setting that clock back again. "That sounds like a good deal to me."

Levi's eyes soften on mine, the two of us suspended in the quiet promise of the words.

A few moments later, the door opens, and another baker comes in from the parking lot with a merry wave. Levi and I are both blushing faintly, the deeper conversation we still want to have hovering between us, a bookmark slid in it for later.

Later . That same calm washes over me again, now that I know we have time. The time Levi gave me, and the time stretching out in front of us farther than we can even see.

Levi works on his batch as I start pulling out ingredients, the two of us spending the next minute catching each other's eye and trying not to laugh like kids who almost got caught making out in the hallway. I'm about to ask Levi how the last of the move went when he preempts me by asking, "How was the football game last night?"

I set down a giant carton of eggs. "I can safely say I still know nothing about sports, but I do know that warm carbs are the only thing that can bring two rival teams together," I tell him. We sold out of our entire supply of Flight Risk scones before the end of the second half, and enough kids took a picture of the QR code Sana taped to the bus that I'm pretty sure we finally got our Gen Z "in."

Levi passes behind me to grab another pan, ghosting his hand on the small of my back. "What a wholesome, family-friendly sports movie you've just inspired. Did anyone burst into song?"

"Maybe next time. We've already been invited back for every game this season."

Levi's eyes are unabashedly proud. "Look at you, taking Benson Beach by storm."

It's hasn't even been two full weeks since we started using what Dylan dubbed the "Tea Tide Mobile" around town, but we've already made quite a name for ourselves. On weekdays we'll plant ourselves in places with foot traffic where we managed to get quick permits—close to the town square or in the parking lot of the boardwalk or outside the university. In the evening sometimes we'll head over to community events like football games and the big art show that the Benson Beach Museum of Arts hosted. Heck, one night we asked Games on Games if we could try our luck in the parking lot during trivia night and sold so many Wakey Fakeys that the owner joked about ditching the bar scene and opening a scone shop of his own.

It's literally chaos on wheels, but I love every second of it. I love the days when I'm manning the truck and get to talk to familiar faces and new ones. I love taking moments to explore at all these games and events and feeling like I'm part of the currents rippling through Benson Beach again. I love when someone pokes their head in and asks a question I haven't heard in a long time, one that makes something under me hum with pride: "What are the specials for today?"

And most of all, I love that it's been a team effort every step of the way. That there are already memories of people I love in every corner of the truck. The little scone doodle with stick legs and arms Mateo drew as a joke that we ended up putting on all the fliers people can grab with their order. The driver's seat of the truck that now permanently smells like Dylan's aftershave. The window where I got a truly iconic picture of Sana leaning down to plant a kiss on her now-boyfriend Aiden while handing him a scone.

And now Levi, here and making scones with his own hands, part of this new world of mine that's been opening up by the day. One that feels wider and more full of potential than it ever did, even when I was seeing more of the world than anyone I knew. One that makes me feel more like myself than I have in years. My life is more unsettled than it's ever been, but I've never felt more settled in it.

"Oh, hey. Now that you're here—I wanted to show you something I found." I pull the binder open to the folder in the back, where I tucked away Levi's notes. "These are super old, but Annie had them in the back of Tea Tide."

Levi blinks at them in confusion. "I don't even remember writing these." He thumbs through them slowly, his eyes catching on a few of the ideas in confusion or amusement. He shakes his head, and when he looks back at me, there's a bright energy in the blue of his eyes. "This is wild. I think I wrote these all down in the same day."

I tap the pages. "And just goes to show you how bottomless that brain of yours is," I say. "I know you were worried about having other ideas after you wrapped up this manuscript, but that's just it. You're brimming with them."

"It's been a long time," says Levi, with a trace of doubt in his voice.

"It's also been a long time since you've let yourself be in this mindset," I say. "You just need to let yourself have time to ease into it is all."

Levi's eyes linger on the pages, and I feel my words sinking in, even if it takes him a moment to speak. "Or maybe I just need to get cracking on whatever this…" Levi squints at his own handwriting. "‘ You've Got Mail , but ghosts' plot was supposed to be."

I stand on my tiptoes to get a better look at the page because I missed that one. "The only thing spicier than rivals in love are undead rivals in love," I say.

Levi's lip quirks. It's not the almost-smile anymore, though. Just a soft and genuine one. It occurs to me that I haven't seen the almost-smile in weeks.

"Thank you, June. Not for saving these, uh… banner ideas from teenage me," he says, not without a bit of sheepishness. He lowers his voice. "But for reminding me. And for believing in me."

I feel the warmth of it twofold—not just the belief I have in Levi, but knowing how much it means to him.

"Of course," I say. "The faster we expand out the Levi literary universe, the better. Speaking of, I meant to ask—has that editor gotten back to you yet?"

"Oh." Levi sets the pages back down on top of the binder, scratching the back of his neck. "So—I didn't submit it."

I blink. "But you finished it."

"I did, but then…"

He shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh.

"When I first wrote it, I had this sense there was something wrong with it. I thought that's why it needed rewriting. But I realized the problem wasn't with the writing, it was just—it wasn't me." He looks right at me then, and says, "Or at least, it's not anymore."

"So you're just going to leave it be?"

He considers his answer carefully. "The way I see it—if that book sells, and I have to commit to writing more books like it… I'm not going to have a very long career, because I'm going to be miserable for every second of writing those, too."

Levi tilts his head at me with a teasing expression, like he's waiting for an "I told you so." And I won't lie—there's a part of me that is more than a little relieved at this turn of events. But there's a much louder part of me that's worried about where this leaves Levi.

"Well," I settle on saying, "I'm glad that it isn't you anymore. Because it seemed like a lonely way to be."

Levi nods. "It was. I'm glad I had it to cope at the time. But I think that's all it really was—just a way to get through it by trying to pull myself outside of it." He tilts his chin down to level with me. "I don't want to pull myself out of my life anymore."

"So how are you feeling now?" I ask. "I mean, writing-wise."

And now Levi's teasing expression shifts into a full-on smirk. "You're about to be a very smug woman."

"Have you tasted my scones? I'm already a very smug woman."

Levi leans in, setting his palms on the metal table to steady himself, a quiet electricity in his eyes that already feels like it's humming in me, too.

"I read the notes you found on The Sky Seekers . And then after I finished the other manuscript, I sat down and read them again. And then I opened up my laptop and I just—" He shakes his head, laughing to himself. "It was like the words were bleeding onto the page. I couldn't type them fast enough."

A grin cracks my face so quickly it might split it in half. "I'm not going to be smug. I'm going to be insufferable."

He smiles right back, but raises his hands up and says quickly, "Don't get excited yet. I'm moving slower now. There are a lot of things I can't remember. And things that I definitely need to retool." He pauses for a moment, considering. "But it's not like being stuck with the other manuscript. It's a nice kind of stuck. Like before it felt like there was only one road I could go down, and it was a mess. But now it's like—there are too many to choose from. It's a nice change of pace."

I nod, the grin on my face softening into a close-lipped smile. Whatever it is that's crackling in the back of his eyes right now, I feel it, too. I've been feeling it ever since the truck hit the road and I started getting a front-row seat to people's reactions to the old scone specials.

"It's funny," I say, "because weirdly, that's how I feel about coming up with new ideas for scones. Like there are all these new ways I could go with them, but there's so much going on I could draw from that I don't even know where to start."

Levi presses in close enough that we're shoulder to shoulder and gives me a slight nudge. "Maybe we brainstorm, then. Help each other out."

I'm quiet for a moment. Then I say carefully, "Maybe we do it back in our woods, the way we used to."

Levi blinks, and abruptly our tone shifts from teasing to sincere. "Do you have any time today?" he asks.

My flutter of anticipation is so absurd that it feels like I stole something back from childhood. "We'll probably drive the truck back to the lot around three."

"Text me," says Levi. "I'll come meet you."

As if on cue, Sana waltzes into the kitchen, hair pulled into her topknot, rocking the new apron she embroidered for herself that says SCONE DADDY on the front pocket. She halts the moment she sees Levi.

"Oh, he's not allowed to be here." She gestures at Levi with an open palm. "This is objectively too hot, and we don't have time to shoot a scone-baking calendar right now. Out."

"That's not a terrible idea," I say, looking Levi up and down. "Maybe he could borrow your apron."

"Not on your life, September," he says, the tips of his ears going red.

Sana jerks a thumb toward the parking lot. "But actually, you should jet. Dylan's out front to give you a ride back to your place."

Levi winces. "Next order of business—getting myself a car." He looks at me pointedly. "Preferably one that doesn't belong in a LEGO house."

"Your disrespect for Bugaboo knows no bounds," I say.

He leans in and presses a quick kiss to my temple. "See you this afternoon."

Sana wiggles her eyebrows and hardly waits for the front door to close behind Levi before she says, "Um? Details, immediately? Also—and I cannot emphasize this enough—how dare he. There's only room for one scone daddy in your life and that position's taken."

"Don't you worry, I think you're safe. Also, what brings you here bright and early?" I ask.

"I wanted to help. And also scam a free scone. But mostly run the draft of the piece I'm submitting for Fizzle past you," she says, with an uncharacteristic self-consciousness.

My eyes widen. "It's finally ready?"

She lifts a hand up with a so-so gesture. "It's getting there."

Just then, my phone lights up on the table where I left it, Griffin's name popping up on the screen. I make a gagging face and am just about to send it to voice mail when Sana reaches out and stills my hand.

"Wait. Answer it," says Sana. "I want to hear what he has to say."

I tilt my head at her. "Why?"

"Research purposes for the article." Sana pulls out her phone and starts recording a voice memo, then shoots me a quick, apologetic smirk. "Humor me."

I shrug, swiping to answer the phone and pressing the speaker button. Griffin doesn't even wait a beat before launching into what appears to be a very prepared spiel. "I know you're angry with me right now, but you know I did that special for you , right? For Tea Tide. So you could keep getting more business."

"Oh?" I say, turning to Sana, both of our eyebrows rising immediately.

"If you'd just let me explain instead of running off like that, you'd know I was doing it for your own good," says Griffin. "They want you to be on the next season of the show, you know."

Sana has to shove her face into the crook of her elbow to muffle her laugh. I keep talking, if only so Sana's curiosity is sated. Considering all the help she's put into Tea Tide, I owe her a lot more than that.

"I've had such a lovely time on it, how tempting," I say.

"Look—you can believe me or not." Griffin lets out a performative breath. "But I care about you, June. More than Levi with his stupid fake dating thing, dragging you along the exact same way he did in high school."

I know he's digging at the bottom of the barrel now, because never once in our relationship did he acknowledge the clear crushes Levi and I had on each other in high school. He must really be willing to throw his pride into the wringer if he's copping to it now.

"And we had a good thing going, June," Griffin persists. "We still do, if… I mean. If you're open to it."

Sana mouths words that I suspect are The audacity! Of this man!!! as I lean toward the phone and say mildly, "And this sudden change of heart has nothing to do with the fact that the internet hates you for dragging me through the mud again?"

I didn't bother checking myself, but Sana has gleefully filled my inbox with tweets and articles over the past two weeks. After the initial shock of the interview, the narrative shifted out from under Griffin pretty fast—my favorite commentary ranged from literally why can't he leave crying girl alone?? let her fake date that hot piece of ass in peace????? to pretty sure griffin would step on god's face to get more attention . It didn't stop me and Levi from getting heat, but watching Griffin's plan backfire made it a little easier to swallow, that's for sure.

Griffin waits a moment to answer, and I can practically hear his teeth grinding through the phone. "Let them hate me. You're the only one whose opinion matters."

"Well, that's unfortunate," I say easily, "because I think you're a joke."

"June, I'm trying to tell you I love you," says Griffin adamantly. "I always have, and I always will."

It should sting that this is actually the first time Griffin's ever said those words to me out loud, but all I want to do is laugh. Except then the realization clicks into place, and I'm not laughing—I'm straight up cackling.

"Oh my god," I wheeze. "Oh my god . Lisel dumped you."

There's a telling beat of silence, and then Griffin says tightly, "We're broken up."

I look to Sana, who nods at me. Whatever she wanted out of this call, she must have gotten it.

I feel a strange kind of buoyancy then, knowing the next words I say to Griffin are going to be the last. "I'm hanging up now," I tell him. "Good luck with your life."

The instant the phone disconnects, Sana and I both burst into hysterics, falling into each other and laughing so hard that every head in the commercial kitchen swivels around to look at us.

"That was priceless," says Sana, tapping the button on her phone to stop the recording.

"And will live forever in infamy now," I say as she saves the file. "Are you going to sell that to the highest bidder?"

"God, the temptation. We could buy so much Taco Bell with that money. But no." She shifts on her stool. "Honesty hour. This piece I'm trying to write and pitch for Fizzle —it's about gaslighting in millennial relationships, using Griffin as the peg. I've been interviewing psychologists and looking at the dynamics of other internet-adjacent couples in public breakups and how the media coverage shifted public opinion. It's a whole deep dive."

"Holy shit," I manage, both surprised and impressed. "That is precisely the kind of article you'd kill at. And Fizzle would kill for."

"Right?" says Sana, her eyes getting that hungry gleam in them when she's right on the verge of cracking a good story. It's been a long time since I've seen it. "It's getting a little more personal, though, so I want to check in with you before I submit it. Now that the Revenge Ex thing got blown up anyway, I was thinking of getting more specific about how you and Levi started just for context for the article."

I smirk. "It also makes a great peg. Very clickable."

Sana elbows me in the arm. "You can take the girl outta digital media…"

"Oh, trust me. The digital media is fully out of the girl. There are only scones in here now," I say, gesturing at myself. If I never see another headline about Griffin or Kelly or the whole mess of this summer, it'll be too soon. "But to be clear, you have my blessing. I'd just run it past Levi, but I'm sure he'll be fine with it, too."

Sana leans in, eyes on the door Levi walked out of earlier. "Speaking of, that situation seems… resolved?" she says. "Judging by the kissing and the scone-making and the ‘see you this afternoon' of it all."

I smile down at the scone batter I've been neglecting. "We still haven't talked."

"Talking's overrated," says Sana, taking over Levi's batch where he left off.

"Says the woman interviewing psychologists."

"And what for?" says Sana. "When I clearly should just quit writing and become a matchmaker full-time."

"I thought you were our handler."

She hip-checks me. "And I handled getting you two alone so you'd eventually get your heads out of your asses and fall for each other for real."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "What if we hadn't, hmm? What if we became mortal enemies and terrorized Benson Beach with our mutual hatred the rest of our days?"

I'm joking, but abruptly, Sana is not. She gets in close, raising her eyebrows right back. "June. I saw the way you two looked at each other the literal first moment he got back into town, and I knew the two of you had it bad," she says. "Also you take for granted that I have pretty much stalked the two of you every step of the way. You and Levi—you're perfect for each other."

The words are so blunt that they take me by surprise, but just as quickly, I feel the warmth of them spreading in me, taking deep roots. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sana slows her scone work down to a stop, and really looks at me then. "You know what it is? Other than the absurd chemistry of two hot people being mutually attracted to each other, of course."

I resist the temptation to roll my eyes, knowing from the look she's leveling at me that she's about to get serious.

"It's that both of you were a little bit lost a few weeks ago. But neither of you pushed. Nudged, occasionally. But mostly just encouraged each other. Tried to make things easier, when you could." Sana's expression is far away for a moment, almost dreamy, like she's here and not. "Neither of you wants to change the other one or tell the other what to do. You just want each other to be happy. And that's what love is supposed to look like."

My throat goes tight. For a moment, I'm there again—the June I was a few weeks ago, getting to know the Levi he was then. We were more than a little lost, I know, but Sana's words give me a new perspective I hadn't fully understood yet. Levi and I spent most of our adult lives with people who pushed us. Who amplified qualities that were already there, but to serve their own purposes. Kelly took advantage of the part of Levi that wanted everything settled and planned, and Griffin took advantage of the part of me that loved exploring new things. They didn't just push us, but pushed us too far.

And we fell into those patterns because we thought they made sense for us. We held on to them for dear life because we thought that because they understood us, it was meant to be. But the truth is, we'd never known what it was like not to just be understood, but supported. Believed in. Cared about for more than what we could offer, but what we already were, what we wanted to be.

Or maybe I did already know that feeling. I think about Levi when we were kids, always waiting for me at the bottom of those absurdly high trees. Never telling me not to go up or when to come down. Just steadily being there if I needed him, the way he still is today.

It's always been there between us, I realize. We were just waiting to remember how it felt.

"That…" I have to take another breath to steady my voice. "Thank you for saying that. That's a really beautiful way of putting it."

Sana reaches out and gives the hand I have on the table a quick squeeze. "Well, like you said," she says cheekily. "I have been interviewing psychologists the whole week."

"You might be a great matchmaker, Sana," I say, "but you're also a fucking great best friend."

Sana grins widely, slapping her hand down on the scone dough. "And don't you forget it."