Chapter 1

Chapter One

Present day

Jess sat at the small kitchen table, the surface covered in papers. She ignored her half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich, the plate perched atop her stack of bills. The laptop beside her was moving too slow to get anything done. Even if it was ten years old, she had to make it work; there was never enough money left over for a new one.

She tossed a stack of receipts to the table and placed her face in her hands. The headache she woke up with lingered, but if she didn't get ready in the next five minutes, she was going to be late for work.

The springs of the mattress upstairs squeaked as Charlie got out of bed. She listened to his movements as he splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth, then made his way down the narrow staircase.

He paused at the table, taking in the mess. "Grilled cheese? For breakfast?"

"We don't have anything else," she snipped. "No cereal, and we ran out of eggs and milk yesterday."

"Aren't you at the grocery store every day? Can't you pick some up?"

She tossed her pen to the table, looking up at him. "With what money, Charlie? I have to pay rent in two days and it's going to suck everything out of my account."

Charlie brushed a hand on Jess's back. She flinched. It was the first time he'd touched her in a week, and it felt strange. He traced small circles below her neck.

"I can pay it this month," he said. "Rent, I got it."

She looked up at him and frowned. "All of it?"

"Yes, all of it," he answered, brushing his thumb across the crease in her forehead. "No need to stress, Jessie."

"I'm always stressed, Charlie."

"Why? Because of money?"

" Yes , because of money," she replied, crossing her arms. "Something I never seem to have enough of."

"You don't need money to be happy," he grumbled.

"But you need it to survive , Charlie." She lifted her plate. "Grilled cheese. For breakfast ."

"Okay, okay, I get it." He backed away from her into the kitchen. "Grab some groceries today, all right?"

She scowled. "You promise?"

"Promise what?"

Jess pinched the bridge of her nose, slamming her eyes shut. "Rent, Charlie."

"Oh, right," he said, opening up the practically empty fridge, like food might miraculously appear. "Yes, I promise."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Shit. She ran up the stairs as she answered the phone, wedging it between her shoulder and ear, reaching for her uniform that was hanging dry. "Yes?"

"Jess, hey," Calvin said on the other line. "I'm going to need a favor. Are you free tonight?"

"Depends on what the favor is."

"Night shift," he answered. "No cake orders today, but—"

"I'm in," she said. "Six?"

"Yep. Thanks, Jess. See you then."

She tossed her phone on the unmade bed and slipped on her Post Road Market uniform, tucking the black polo inside the matching black pants. She twisted her hair into a claw clip and grabbed her glasses on the nightstand, then descended the stairs. She slowed as the twinkling sound of a video game booted up downstairs.

She eyed Charlie as she grabbed her purse and coat by the door. He plopped down on the couch, holding a controller she'd never seen before.

"What is that?"

"It's the new Switch. It finally came yesterday."

She froze, staring at the expensive-looking video game contraption on their cheap entertainment center, the wood sagging further down the middle compared to when she first bought it at a consignment shop four years earlier. "You…bought it?"

"Yeah, like, two weeks ago," he answered.

Her shoulders tensed as she stared at a completely oblivious Charlie, his eyes bouncing across the screen as he played.

"You bought an expensive video game console two weeks ago?" Her mind raced. How?

"Technically it's not that expensive, not as much as a PlayStation 5."

"Charlie…how are we able to afford that?"

He paused the game, finally looking up at her. "Huh?"

She was fuming. Grilled cheese for breakfast. No coffee. A table covered in bills and receipts because her finances were an absolute wreck.

She dropped her purse, holding up her arms. "How the fuck are we going to afford that, Charlie?" she screamed, her voice cracking "We barely have the money to pay rent!"

Charlie dropped the controller on the couch and stood up, his eyebrows raised. "Jess, for shit's sake, it's fine . I put it on my credit card."

She sucked in a breath. She might be broke but there was always one thing she never messed with—her credit. Even if she didn't use her card much, she made sure to always pay it off. She couldn't afford to have a bad credit score. Bad credit meant never getting out of this tiny apartment and finding something bigger. Bad credit meant not replacing her ancient car, whenever that day would come. Even if she shared everything else with Charlie— everything —she had yet to share a credit card with him. And right now, staring at a brand-new Nintendo Switch that could've likely paid for three months' worth of groceries, she was thankful for the little voice in her head that'd told her not to.

Except, of course, she knew Charlie. Knew that he never would've used his own credit card on something like this. He hoarded money and only paid the bare minimum she needed from him, month after month. Which meant only one thing.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she roared. "Which card did you put it on?"

His shoulders dropped, his gaze softening. "Jess…"

"WHICH CARD?!"

He didn't have to answer her, because it was clear. Charlie used the credit card connected to his father's bank account, the one he'd kept in his wallet since he was sixteen.

"Jess, someone is standing outside." The relief in his voice was palpable.

Jess whipped around, noticing a figure standing in the outside entryway. She stormed over and flung the door open, finding her coworker Rory standing there, wide seafoam-green eyes staring back at her with a mix of shock and pity.

Jess glared at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I just—"

She couldn't take any of this girl's bullshit high school drama right now. Not when she had her own problems to worry about. "Leave now. "

"Jess, is everything—?"

" Now , Rory!"

She nodded and shuffled backward, but Jess didn't bother waiting for her to leave. She slammed the door and turned back to Charlie. "I thought you said you got rid of it."

"I said I wouldn't use it," Charlie corrected.

"And what do you call this?" She gestured to the TV.

"I haven't used it for like, four months now. I told him I would pay him back."

"With the money you have saved for rent?"

"I'll pay him back when I get my next paycheck," he answered tersely. "I'll be able to afford rent and a new video game."

"But god forbid you do a grocery run," she grumbled. She needed to get out of there before she did something she'd regret. She grabbed her purse. "I'm going to be late tonight, Calvin asked me to cover the night shift."

"Jessie, wait—" he started, reaching out for her.

She jumped from his reach and went for the door, not looking back. She wouldn't fall for it again, the soft touches and the I'm sorrys and the It won't happen agains . It was the same thing over and over with him, and she fell for it. Every time.

She needed to think. She slammed the door in his face and rushed to her car, praying that her boss didn't fire her for arriving late. Again.

Cory was pissed, but not enough to give Jess another warning. "Three strikes and you're out," is what Cory always told his Post Road employees, and she already had one on her record after arriving thirty minutes late for a shift one blustery cold day this past October. She had no other choice, though; the electricity had been out and Charlie was already at work, so it was Jess who waited for the electrician to show up. Thankfully, Jess was currently on Cory's good side after willingly working during the holidays a few months back—a job no other employee wanted. But what else was she going to do, stay at home alone while her boyfriend was off enjoying the family Thanksgiving dinner she was never invited to?

At this point, Jess was convinced every single Sullivan was a secretly blood-thirsty vampire. Not the kind that sparkled in the sun and had feelings like in paranormal romance books—no. Charlie's family were of the completely soulless variety, caring about nothing but their next kill. Especially Charlie's father.

She finished up frosting a half-sheet pan cake for a birthday party, her palms cramping from squeezing piping bags. She dropped the bag and sighed, pressing her hands into her back as she stood up straight, the relief feeling extra delicious after three hours of crouching.

"Looking good, Jess," called Cory as he stepped behind the glass case and into the grocery store's bakery. "You always make it look so easy."

She shrugged. "Years of decorating ice cream cakes will do that. These are more forgiving since they don't melt so easily. Or at all, really."

"Yeah, I can imagine," he said. "Hey, got a minute?"

Jess frowned, wondering if she should brace for that second strike. She couldn't afford to lose the job, even though she detested it. Post Road was her off-season gig, a place to work and bring in money when Scoops was closed. But as they approached summer, she wondered if it would be foolish to give up her shifts. The double paycheck every week was going to be hard to say no to.

"Here's the deal," he said, hopping up on to the counter. Jess flinched, calculating the number of health codes he was violating by sitting on her work station, but she nodded and bit her tongue.

"As we both know, things aren't doing so well in here," he started.

Jess clenched her fists, then immediately stuck them into the pockets of her denim apron so he wouldn't notice. This conversation always occurred in different ways, at least once a month. Cory came to her with his "I'm the store manager" bullshit and explained why utilizing her only in the bakery was bad for business, and that he'd need her stocking shelves or behind the register. She would counter with the numbers, explaining how the bakery was in fact bringing in a significant amount, and how it could be a driver for the market if they doubled their output.

But for some reason, Cory was dead set against Jess being back here, and by the looks of it, he was going to force her over to the chip aisle.

"I've been doing some thinking, and you know, between trying to compete with Grampy's and now with Scoops being open…I'm thinking the bakery should take a pause," he said, crossing his arms. "And I really could use your help elsewhere."

She nodded, turning away so he wouldn't see her let out a shaky breath. She wanted to scream and tell him how ridiculous he was being. This man knew so little about running a business it astounded her. Sure, she still had a lot to learn herself. But becoming friends with Calvin and learning the ropes at Scoops taught her what was important to focus on and what wasn't. She knew pausing bakery production outright would seriously hurt this place.

"You're going to lose business," she said sternly. "It's going to cost you."

"I think it will cost me keeping it open . Seems a bit ridiculous, really," he answered, hopping down. "Listen, Jess, I was planning on closing up this part of the market when I took over last year anyway. You're a great baker and your cakes are impressive," he said, gesturing to the colorful assortment of ready-to-purchase cakes in the glass display. "But being a manager means making hard decisions, and right now, this is what's best for our team."

He walked away without giving her a chance to respond. Fuming, she checked the clock behind her, relieved her shift was officially over. She slid the cake she finished inside the display case, then untied her apron and stuffed it in her tote. She shrugged on her coat as she stepped out the sliding glass doors, the cheap material of her jacket doing little to block out the chilly March wind whipping through the parking lot. Inside her car was also freezing, but at least it protected her from the wind as she slammed the squeaky door closed.

She turned on the ignition, music immediately blasting through her speakers. She leaned her head back and let the sounds of the screeching guitar and the rhythmic base soothe the pounding headache that had returned with a vengeance. Unclenching her fists, she pressed her hands into her lap and took three long breaths. It was something she'd picked up from a YouTube video she watched weeks ago after her desperate online search of "how to decrease stress." The meditation guru said this very small moment of "grounding" was supposed to somehow calm you. She gave it a try, and to her surprise, it worked. Slightly . Enough to pull her out of her funk.

Jess pulled out of the parking lot, turning a corner before stopping abruptly at a red light. Someone walked across the crosswalk, a pair of wired headphones plugged in as he bobbed his head. At first she didn't recognize him, but as he got closer, she realized she knew the golden-haired boy who was walking across the front of her car, his face practically in the clouds as he made it to the other side of the street.

It was the haircut that caught her off guard.

She rolled down the window and honked.

Kevin whipped around, and when he saw who it was, he burst into a grin. "My dear Jessica!"

She rolled her eyes. "I see you chopped off the mop," she said.

"Yes, so glad you noticed," he replied, flicking his hair slightly, his mouth still pressed into that casual grin.

Kevin always kept his hair long, his honey-brown locks hanging just below his shoulders. He'd had it that way since moving to Haverport from Vermont their sophomore year. But now his hair was shorter, his waves hanging to his chin, the pieces at the front layered to round out his face. His tattoo was much more noticeable now without his hair in the way, the black ink snaking up the side of his left shoulder and around the back of his neck.

A car horn flared behind her. She jumped, quickly pulling off the road. Kevin kept grinning as he leaned down onto her open window, transferring his groceries into one hand.

She furrowed her brow. Kevin was far off from the bike shop down on Main Street, and it wasn't like the market was walkable. She glanced around, realizing they were at the bus station.

"Are you waiting for the bus ?" Jess asked.

"Hey, I'm sensing some judgment with that tone," he said, wagging a finger at her. "Not all of us have the means to drive ourselves to the grocery store."

She frowned. "I thought you had a car."

" Had ," he emphasized. "Past tense. The beauty is no longer."

"That piece of crap finally met its end?"

"Nope, I sold it," he answered. "Gave me enough to afford the next few months."

She frowned again, glancing away from him and out over her steering wheel. She knew things at Port Wheels were bad; that winter, Calvin had mentioned that if Kevin didn't start bringing in more business, doors would be closed by the end of the summer. But she had no idea it was sell-your-car bad.

She sighed, turning toward him. "Need a ride back to town?"

"Oh my god, ride in the Jess-mobile?" he said. He opened the back door and tossed his bags on the seat without hesitating. "Sign me up."

Jess shook her head as Kevin climbed into the front, sitting at an angle so he could close the passenger door.

"You can move the seat back, you know," she said.

"Oh, okay, wasn't sure if you wanted me to sit here in this little clown seat," he quipped, sliding the chair back with a thud to make room for his long legs.

She rolled her eyes and turned on the ignition. Music blasted through the speakers again. Her face flushed as she quickly turned off the stereo.

Kevin laughed. "Jessica, what was that?"

"Nothing," she grumbled, pulling back onto the road.

"Obviously not nothing," Kevin said, reaching for her stereo. "That was some serious—"

She swatted his hand away. "Don't."

"Oh come on," he pleaded. "What was that band? You're gatekeeping."

Jess scowled at him. "I am not gatekeeping. You've just never heard of them."

"That's literally what a gatekeeper would say." He chuckled. "Come on , tell me." He reached out and poked her shoulder and she couldn't help it, she swatted his hand away again.

"It's—Ugh. It's a band, out of Chicago," she answered slowly. "They're small, indie."

"An indie pop punk band out of Chicago?" he replied as they stopped at a red light. Jess glanced over at him, noticing the way he was still grinning to himself, his eyes peering out the passenger window. "I always thought you were a Taylor Swift girl."

Jess unlocked the doors. "Get out."

Kevin burst out laughing. "You're right, how rude of me," he said. "Now put the music back on before I start singing to you to pass the time."

"It's literally a five-minute drive. Can you really not sit in silence for five minutes?"

He scoffed. "My dear Jessica, do you even know me?"

"Stop calling me that."

"And not get to see that little crease in your forehead? Nah, never," he quipped, his leg now bouncing slightly, looking amused.

She grumbled a few expletives to herself as the light turned green. Pressing on the gas, she wondered if she made a mistake offering him a ride. Being with him wasn't doing anything for her headache.

"It's actually so funny," Kevin said, shaking his head.

"What?" she huffed.

"You see, my favorite band is this indie pop punk group from Chicago," he said. "And I've been dying to listen to them all day."

Before she could stop him, Kevin swiftly flicked on the stereo, sending the music blasting over the speakers. Instead of turning it off, she waited, gripping the steering wheel tightly as the lead singer's voice rolled into the chorus.

She couldn't help it, the words she loved so much pulsing through her veins. She nodded her head, and she sang the words.

Jess looked over at Kevin. Surprisingly, he wasn't paying attention to her, giving her the space to be free with the lyrics and the beating drums. He was simply looking out the window and bopping his head, a smile still fixed on that perfectly tanned face of his. Like the sunshine from last summer never really left.

They remained like that for the rest of the ride, moving from one song into the next, until she pulled up outside Port Wheels. She parked, reaching to turn the car off.

Kevin brushed his hand against hers, motioning for her to stop. "Don't. Let the song finish."

The tips of his fingers were rough. She hesitated, mesmerized at the way her skin tingled from the contact.

As if they both understood what was going on, they wrenched their hands away at the same time. Jess white-knuckled the steering wheel again as Kevin shoved his hand in his pocket.

The song ended. She turned off the ignition.

Kevin coughed. "Heading back home?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Working the night shift over at Scoops."

Kevin frowned, something she rarely saw. "Are you planning on working both jobs this summer?"

Jess leaned back in her chair, thinking through her conversation with Cory. The bakery was the only thing drawing her to Post Road. At Scoops she didn't have much creativity—it was just simple ice cream cakes and colored frosting, nothing truly special . At the market she had room to experiment, offering different types of cakes and even some pastries like chocolate croissants and cranberry orange scones and kanelbullar sweet cinnamon buns. But if Cory was planning to pull her from the bakery…

"I-I don't know," she confessed. "I need the money."

"Has Charlie been helping out at all?"

She swiveled her head and glared at him. "That's none of your business."

Kevin held up his hands. "You're right, it's not. But he's living with you full time and can't use the excuse of college or the pandemic to not pay rent anymore. That was lunacy."

"Again, this was never any of your business," she said. "And now, I would like you to get out of my car."

Kevin sighed, reaching for the door handle. "Jess, you know if you ever need anything—"

"I don't. Get out, Kevin."

He nodded, sliding out of the car and grabbing his groceries. Jess watched as he turned the corner, making his way to his apartment above the bike shop.

She let her shoulders drop on a sigh, wondering if it was worth the detour home to eat something quick. She swore softly, realizing she forgot to stock up on groceries when she stormed out after finding out Cory's "brilliant" business strategy.

Ice cream for dinner it was.

Her phone dinged as she turned the car back on. She checked it, finding a picture from Kevin. He sent an image of a small bakery box open on his table, filled to the brim.

The kanelbullar are my favorite.

She smirked, shifting gears. They were hers, too.