Chapter 8

8

Annika

It turns out that racking the enemy's pitcher in the balls is a good way to ensure you're welcomed back into the fold at home.

Who knew?

The next morning, Duh-Nuts is swamped with locals wanting to order cinnamon rolls and asking how they can help my mama and, most importantly, talking about the softball game.

We won two to one in the end, thanks to my lead-off single in the sixth inning that I feel incredibly guilty about.

"Not that I'd ever advocate for violence, of course, but I'm so glad you put that smug pitcher in his place. He needed to be taken down a notch or two," my former kindergarten teacher tells me.

"Try seventeen," her daughter, who's home from college, adds before moaning over her pecan roll. "And you should throw one of these at him too, because it's like sex rolled in cinnamon and sugar and nuts. Wait. Maybe you shouldn't throw it at him. We don't throw sex at shitheads, right? I can't think straight. This is sooo good."

"I'll be sure to tell Mama you like it," I say while I dish up another cinnamon roll for Roger, who's back for thirds.

"Your mama working in the kitchen today?" he asks.

I nod. "Bailey helped her measure and mix, but she tested the water temperature and did all the kneading herself."

I don't add that Bailey also made the caramel sauce after my attempt literally went up in flames, or that my roll was so sloppy we almost didn't have pecan rolls this morning, because people don't really need to know that.

Roger beams and scratches his scruffy salt and pepper beard. "That makes it even more delicious. You're gonna keep playing for the GOATs, right? We need your arm."

I don't make any promises, because I have someone coming in to interview for the position of morning baker later today—which will cost more than we initially budgeted for outside help, but it's necessary—and I heard from my captain this morning that my discharge paperwork hit a snag, as if military paperwork doesn't already move slower than a slug on a glacier, and I suddenly might need contingency plans for my contingency plans.

There's no time to worry about committing to playing softball permanently for the GOATs, no matter how much I want to.

When we're not playing Shipwreck again.

The breakfast crowd dies down mid-morning. I'm wiping off the chipped, wobbly two-person tables that need to be replaced when the doorbell dings and a familiar face breezes in from the sunny summer heat.

"Annika!" Liliana DeSilva cries. She smothers me in a tight hug, though it's awkward because she's barely five feet tall, and I have at least seven inches on her. Eight, on a good day. "Girl, I didn't know you were home until I heard about the game last night. You should've called. How's your mama? And Bailey? And oh my god, did you really rack Grady Rock in the nuts? I swear, if you hadn't, I wouldn't have known you were here at all. Thank god for small favors and good gossip, right? Are those cinnamon rolls I smell? Tell me your mama made them, because we all know you can't bake worth—oh my god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't think, I just?—"

I cut her off with a laugh, because it's laugh or cry, and I'm trying to make smart choices. "It's okay. Yes, Mama made them. And how did you miss the gossip train? I've been home for three weeks."

"This heiress just bought the winery," she whispers, "and I've been working my ass off to make sure I don't get canned. Nobody knows much about her yet, but supposedly she's actually getting here to look the place over for the first time today, so I need to make sure I'm back by noon."

"You won't get canned," I tell her, though I really don't know anything about Sarcasm Cellars at all. "How long have you been there?"

"Since I graduated college."

Bailey pops her head into the dining area. "Annika, Mama and I are going for a drive with Roger. Don't wait for us for lunch."

"You're what?"

"Mama wants to get out more. So we're going for a drive. Roger offered after I assured him the wooly mammoth wouldn't be getting in the car with us."

She smiles.

It's full of mischief.

"Bailey—" I start.

Mama appears behind her, dark sunglasses on, white cane gripped in her hand. "Don't be such an old lady," she tells me. "It's just a drive. Oh. And now there are catfish swimming in the bakery. Are the walls in here still yellow?"

"Yes, Mama."

"I like the wooly mammoth in the kitchen better, but it's going to crush the sink if it's not careful. Also, we're going for a drive. With Roger. He promised he wouldn't take advantage of us."

"He doesn't have to work today?"

"Plumbing's all good in Sarcasm today," she assures me. "And do you remember his son, Birch? He's on call."

"You don't want to go rest? You've been up since four this morning. And you don't normally have two hallucinations in a row if you're not tired."

"Annika Rose, I may be blind, but I'm still your mother, and I'm also still quite the spring chicken."

"She really is," Bailey agrees, which is even more suspicious. "We left two more pans of cinnamon rolls on the counter in back. I frosted them and everything, so all you have to do is put them out."

"It's almost lunchtime. People aren't coming in for cinnamon rolls."

She smiles. "They should. The cinnamon rolls are so delicious, people should have breakfast dessert for lunch. Or you can pack them up for customers to reheat in the morning. Awesome either way! Later, Anni-gator."

"After while, Bailey-dile," I reply automatically, though I'm still highly suspicious, but honestly, Mama getting out is a good thing, even if I know she'll be exhausted, because she tries to deny it, but the stress is getting to her, as evidenced by the hallucinations. "And remember Mama needs to be home for her appointment with the mobility specialist by two."

"Got it," Bailey calls.

I turn back to Liliana. "So. You want a cinnamon roll?"

"Wooly mammoths?"

"Just go with it."

She asks for a coffee and a banana, so I grab both for her and then we sit to catch up.

"What's it like seeing Grady again?" she asks, her hazel eyes sparking with curiosity as she goes straight for the kill.

"It's just like seeing everyone again," I lie.

" Annika . You two were attached at the hip in high school. I never understood why he didn't just ask you out. He was clearly crazy about you. And now you're back, and he's still over there in Shipwreck…"

"Being a Shipwreck shithead," I remind her.

"Please. Cooper was a shithead. Grady was not . He worshipped the ground you walked on."

"He did not."

"Um, yes , he did. Did he bring anyone else cookies and cupcakes and muffins every day? Did he beat up Garrett MacGruder for saying crude things in the locker room about any other girl in school? Or her mama? Did he come all the way here, to Sarcasm, in enemy territory, to see any other person besides you? No, he did not. Because he was sweet on you ."

I open my mouth to tell her she's wrong, that we were just really good friends who clicked because he knew what to say to calm me down when I'd go too far down the path of seeking perfection, and I didn't care what his brother or sister did, unlike half of the rest of high school.

But I can't tell Liliana she's wrong, because everything he told me the night we graduated high school suggests she's right.

C'mon, Annika. You know you're it for me. You always have been. Let's make it official. Fuck the Army. Stay here. Move to Shipwreck. Come work for my family while I go to culinary school. You can take classes at the community college. I'll be home every weekend. We'll get a place together, and it'll be awesome. You feel it, don't you? This thing? We're more than friends. Let's BE more than friends. For real .

And in the moments when I'm being completely honest with myself…I knew it.

I knew he liked me.

But I was terrified of him liking me. I was terrified I was reading him wrong. I was terrified that I was reading him right.

I was terrified of having to work two jobs to support an unplanned baby while ruining both of our life plans.

"He…might've said something to that effect before I left, but he just didn't want things to change. He didn't really mean it. He just didn't want me to leave."

She gives me that seriously? That's your story? look. "I get it. God, Annika, if anybody gets it, you know I do. We didn't want to be our mothers, and we needed to establish ourselves before letting crazy teenage hormones change our lives forever. But…we're all adults now. You're home now. He was your best friend. Are more friends ever really a bad thing?"

I sip my own coffee and squint at her, because Liliana grew up next door to us, in a rented house with barely enough room for two people, much less three, and she always hated that I was friends with anyone from Shipwreck, even Grady. "What's in Shipwreck that you want? Because you and Shipwreck aren't exactly BFFs. At least, you weren't."

"I'd say this even if my new boss hadn't already sent a memo about wanting to expand local distribution to all the liquor stores in the tri-county area. Just for the record. Because you two were best friends, even if I was a total Sarcasm asshole about it back then. And honestly, I miss you both. I didn't realize it until you were gone, but you were my hope that my grandparents would quit calling people from Shipwreck shitheads. Like Romeo and Juliet, without the stabbings and death stuff. And I was never really sure if you two should have sex or not. Risk of teen pregnancy aside and all that. But like…if you could overcome how different your families were and the fact that our towns are rude to each other, then maybe love's possible for everyone."

"You are a total nut."

She grins and fluffs her curly auburn hair. "Some things never change."

And thank goodness for that.

Because she's right. I need a friend. Probably several.

I'm just not sure if I agree with her assessment of who I should start with first.

And after last night, I doubt he'd be interested in any kind of truce.

So today, I choose to be grateful for Liliana.

My new Sarcasm best friend.

"You know anyone in town who can bake like a goddess and doesn't have to go back to school in a few weeks?" I ask her.

"Oh my god, you still can't bake?" she whispers.

"Sshh! I'm trying, but so far, all I've managed to do is create something that NASA scientists came and confiscated to see if I somehow recreated moon rock here on earth, and also set fire to the stovetop."

She chuckles over her coffee. "God, I'm so glad you're home."

I am too.

Except I'm not .

I'm not fully home. But not fully gone.

I'm just filling space while we figure out my family's new normal.

And in the meantime, I'm trying to make all my mama's dreams come true.