Chapter 13

Reece

I don't bother checking if my father has, in fact, cut me off from my trust fund. If I'm prudent, I'll be able to live off the minimum wage offered by the logging company after the money in my bank account runs out. Conveniently, things in Linksfield are miles cheaper than in the city.

Yesterday, I moved out of the guesthouse and into my own apartment.

The apartment is owned by someone Deacon's older brother went to school with. Deacon put in a good word for me, and that, combined with my ability to pay six months' rent upfront, got me a nice one-bedroom above a building that houses a lawyer's office, a defunct gaming arcade, a bar, and a convenience store.

It's two streets off the main street I drove through with the Uber a little more than two weeks ago. Getting around the small town will be easy. Ten minutes north for groceries, home appliances, linen and such. If you keep going another five minutes you'll end up at my new job. One flight of stairs down if I need a drink. What more could a person want?

My apartment is furnished with a new bed and new bedding and linen. A couch from a very scaled down version of Home Depot across the street, and a second-hand dinette.

With my coffee in my hand, I enter my bedroom and sit at the edge of the bed, near the nightstand. My journal and a small organza bag lie on the nightstand. I pick up the journal and turn to the last page I've written on and scribble a note. Sawyer is nice. Kind and welcoming. Maybe we can be friends.

Then, I pull open the drawstring of the organza bag, rubbing my chest softly with one hand. Pulling the pair of socks out of the bag, I bring it to my nose, inhaling. It doesn't smell like a baby. Maybe it does. I don't know what a baby smells like. This is all I brought with me from Arizona. The rest of Abby's things are in storage, ready for Julie to pick up whenever she's ready.

It feels like I'll carry this pair of socks with me everywhere I go. Like carrying an important document. Unable to function in society without it. With a sigh, I press the delicate material to my lips and then set it back in its bag.

There are other things to be happy about, I guess. In a span of little more than two weeks, I've moved out of Arizona, gotten myself a job, and found a new place to live. It's exhilarating. I thought about texting Julie to tell her about my new place, but I wanted to tell Sawyer first. He's the one who let Asher help me.

I can't wait to get to work – my third day today – so I can tell him.

As I walk through the street towards the woodlot, watching the town around me slowly come to life, I think about how much I like this. The early morning sun peeks through the clouds, letting us know that winter is over. The clean narrow streets and the small shops along the way give me the same feeling as being in Asher's old house used to. Warm and safe. Even the air is different. Not so heavy and thick.

My work clothes involve my oldest pair of jeans, a shirt with the words O & R Construction sewn into the breast pocket and a new pair of steel-tipped boots Brennan Hastings had me pick up from the office yesterday. I have a light jacket on to ward off the slight morning chill.

I realize I forgot to pack a lunch bag when the smell of caramel and chocolate kidnaps me as I pass Dotty's Bake Shop . Like a rat following the pied piper, I follow the smell until I'm inside the most precious bake shop in history.

It's so small you wouldn't be able to fit even five customers inside but it's warm and pretty, keeping up with this town's theme of yellows and blues. The small glass-fronted display case looks like it was created by some magical creature. There are rows and rows of miniature sponge cakes with pastel-colored icing and covered in glitter, shortbread cookies, and fruit tarts.

"I'll be with ya in a sec," a sweet voice booms from somewhere behind the counter. A second later, a woman pops up with a smile so big I have no choice but to return it. She greets me like we've known each other for years. Her strawberry blonde hair is piled up on top of her head and her face is red, probably from the warmth inside the shop. She looks like the aunt who gives you too many hugs and pinches your cheeks too hard when she tells you how much you've grown.

"Hello, love. Nice to see you in here this morning. My first customer for the day. Thought you'd come in yesterday when I saw you across the street at the General Store with your broom and plastic things and such."

"Uh." I laugh awkwardly. "Yeah, I—"

A single ringlet of her hair falls onto her forehead. She blows upward, trying to get it away from her eyes. "I know, I know. Movin' in is a big job. Figured you'd be here soon enough. I'm Dotty, by the way, if you haven't figured it out yet. How was the chocolate caramel cake? You liked it. I know you did."

"The what?" Did I just drop into my body mid-conversation with a long-lost friend?

She starts packing a rectangular box with one of every pastry and cookie. Without looking at me, she carries on. "The chocolate caramel cake Sawyer picked up two weeks ago. Said it was for Asher's friend comin'ta visit. That'd be you, love."

"Oh." Wow. This town is that small? "Yes. I enjoyed it very much, thank you. And, uh, may I have one of your—"

"Oh, honey. I'm packing everything for you. You're the prettiest thing I've seen here in a long time, but that's not the only reason. I always treat my first-time customers right."

She gives me another stellar smile.

"Well. Thank you, but—"

"No buts. Day three at the woodlot, huh?"

"Yes?" How the fuck—?

"Walter's wife, Bianca – you know Bianca, right?" – I half nod, half shake my head – "She texted last night to say the boys at the woodlot got a new guy. Put two and two together and here we are."

"Oh. Okay." I don't know what to say. She hands me a box of pastries. "Hold on. I've got some more in the back. Just took 'em out of the oven."

"Uh. You don't happen to have any apple pie, do you?" I ask, remembering how many times Asher filled Sawyer's plate up with apple pie the first day I had dinner with them.

"Sure do." She grins. "For Sawyer?"

My face heats up. I'm sure it's from the warmth of the shop.

"That boy loves apple pie." She laughs affectionately as she moves between the oven at the back and the counter, packing more treats (including mini apple pies). She talks the whole time.

"Now, the post office has a backlog. So, if you need to have something posted, it's best to use one of those private online ones. Just for now, until they get things sorted out. Then, Al's gone and got himself in hospital because he took too long taking care of that chest of his. Full blown bronchitis now. His son, Jay is taking care of things. Any hassles you have over at the diner, you ask for Jay. Not Al. Got it?"

I bite back a smile. I love this place. It's so weird. "Got it."

"Right. Now, the farmers market is getting rid of the potatoes and carrots left over from the winter, so if you want to grab some, everything is half off, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you for letting me know."

"And whatever you do, don't tell Deliah from the General Store across the road anything. And I mean, anything . She asks you anything, you say you don't know. She tells you anything about anything or anyone, you put it in one ear and take it out the other, y'hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"That woman should have her own news channel. Fake news, if you ask me or anyone else in this town. Stay away from her, especially now that she's campaigning all over town. Elections and all comin' up, y'know?"

She gives me a once-over. "You like girls or boys, Reece Carter?"

I clear my throat. Wow. What an experience buying some pastries has become. "Boys, ma'am."

"Okay, we don't mind anything, most of us. But this town is split down the middle about such things. A few of 'em got some problems. Teachers up at the high school can get a bit uptight sometimes, but mostly, they're okay. They don't give Asher a hard time."

"Well. Thank you for all the information, uh, Dotty. I appreciate it."

"I'm the one you come to if you need anything, y'hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now take these—" She piles three boxes one on top of the other — "And share them with the boys."

I take them from her, thanking her profusely. She walks around the counter and opens the door for me. "Oh, and Mr. Carter?"

I turn to her. Her eyes are kind and friendly. "Welcome to Linksfield. Whatever you came here looking for, I hope you find it."

"Thank you," I reply. I spend the rest of my walk thinking about what Dotty said. I don't know what I'm looking for but whatever it is, I hope I find it too.

Sawyer isn't at the woodlot when I arrive. My heart drops into my stomach. The disappointment is unnatural, but it's quickly forgotten when the boys pounce on me the minute they spot Dotty's packaging in my hands.

"Ah, fuuuckkk," Wade says when he opens the first box and finds it filled with mini sponge cakes. To see a grown man almost have an orgasm over a boxful of cakes that look like fairies made them is beyond hilarious.

When I realize that I'm losing control of the boxes, I grab the one with the apple pies and back away from the mini food-frenzy, holding the box close to my chest.

"You guys are fuckin' crazy." Sawyer's voice behind me sends a thousand butterflies racing down into my stomach. Shit . What the fuck?

Deacon holds up two empty boxes. "You snooze, you lose."

Sawyer laughs, and I feel the sound in my chest. Like a skip of a heartbeat. I haven't turned around yet. My palms dampen. What is this shit?

"Hey, Reece."

Now, I have to turn around.

He's dressed in work clothes. His shirt is tucked into his jeans and all that's good for is to tell everyone how flat his stomach is. His sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. Thick, thick forearms. My stomach dips at the sight of him.

"Who stopped at Dotty's?" he asks.

I clear my throat and raise my hand like a teacher's pet. "Uh, I did."

"She told you about the post office?"

I grin. "She did. Also about the diner and someone named Deliah."

"No one will take care of you better than Dotty." Then, he turns to Deacon with a scowl. "Unlike these assholes. You guys didn't even leave me one thing?"

Deacon holds up two empty boxes and grins like a maniac. The boys laugh their heads off, sucking at their fingertips as they disperse.

Maybe Sawyer thinks the box I'm holding is empty too. "I saved you some," I say quickly, as he turns away.

He looks back, his eyes dropping to the box. When he looks at me again, his eyes are just . . . delighted. Pride swells inside my chest. He's pleased.

I step up to him, shoving the box into his hand. He opens it and if he was delighted before, now he's just over the moon.

"Apple pies?" he says.

He brings his gaze back to me and I hold it too long. "Yeah."

He bites into one. Actually, it's more that he put the whole thing into his mouth and ate it all in one bite. I watch his mouth. Can't take my eyes off him when his tongue comes out to lick at the sticky sweetness on his lips. I'm mesmerized.

"Apple pie is my favorite," he murmurs once he's finished. His voice brings my eyes back to his, and the watchfulness there makes my breath catch.

His eyes drop to my mouth.

My lips part without my permission.

"I moved into my own place yesterday." It's the first thing I could think of to get us both out of this fucked-up moment.

"Well, that's awesome. You're really getting things done, huh? Well done."

The moment from before passes. I relax inside my skin and throw him a big smile. This is why I wanted to tell him first. I knew he'd say something nice like that.

We get to work after that. We work in silence mostly because the noises from the tools, and the trucks don't allow for conversation, which might have worked out well for me if it were not for my heightened awareness of every single one of Sawyer's movements, and then my over-romanticization of those movements.

I've known him all of two weeks, talked to him only a handful of times, yet, suddenly, his grip on the ax when he slams it down onto a thick piece of wood is no longer just a man doing his job. I obsess over the strength of that grip. The tautness of the skin covering his forearms. The sweat over his brows. And all I can think about is how Asher must enjoy all that brute strength.