It wasn’t like he wasn’t around, but he’d been missing. A phantom that haunted the night. He talked to Cody every now and again, had hung out with him and Ezra a few times over the years, but it wasn’t the same.
Not even close.
And the last time he’d met up with Cody, his oldest friend had backed him into a corner, shoving him against the wall and demanding he come clean. He had told him he was fucking sorry about his mom, but it wasn’t a valid excuse any longer.
He’d told him he was pathetic.
That his mom would be ashamed of what he’d become.
Like he didn’t know every single one of those things.
So, he’d made himself scarce, drifting through the shadows of this town like he didn’t exist.
“Good,” he finally managed the lie. “How about you?”
That blush kept lighting her cheeks, a timidness surrounding her, an unease that hadn’t been there before, even though there was still that same familiarity that had always been between them tugging at him somewhere deep.
That comfort that had always come with looking at her.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m good. Finishing up my senior year in a couple months and working here on the weekends and afternoons. At least as much as I can without failing my classes.”
He remembered she’d always been close to a year older than the rest of her class. She’d repeated first grade because she’d had some speech difficulties, but once she’d overcome that, he couldn’t remember a time that her mom hadn’t had one of her honor-roll certificates pinned to their fridge.
“I doubt there’s much risk in that. You always were the smart one.”
He took a couple steps deeper into the bakery, part of himself warning him not to get too close, that he didn’t belong, while the other part couldn’t resist.
Because he’d missed her.
Her smile and her sweetness and just how cool she’d always been. He couldn’t stop the grin from cracking at the edge of his mouth. “Smells good in here. Knew you were going to conquer the world with your baking.” He let a small tease wind into his tone.
More of that redness, and she let go of a self-conscious giggle. “It’s not my baking. I mean, I put the cookies in the oven, but it’s not my recipes or anything. I just work here.”
“But you’re going to own it one day. No one does it quite like you.”
She dropped her head between her shoulders, flushing all over the place, though she kept peeking out at him. “Someday, maybe, but I have a long way to go.”
“I know it will happen for you. You’ve always been like that. Going after what you want. All of my memories of you are in that kitchen, mixing up something amazing.”
A long silence passed between them before she glanced down for a beat, wary when she looked back at him. Sadness flashed in her eyes. “What about you?”
He roughed an agitated hand through his hair. “You know, just living.”
If that’s what it could be considered.
Her gaze narrowed, studying him from over the counter. “We miss you, you know?”
He pushed out a heavy sigh. “Things change, yeah?”
“Yeah, in ways I wished they didn’t.” Then she cleared her throat and sent him a big smile that panged through his chest. Because it was real and genuine and so much like the little girl he’d once known yet so different.
Regret slammed him hard.
She’d been like a sister to him.
More than that, even.
Someone who’d just gotten him the same way as he’d thought he’d gotten her.
And now, they had all that fucking time lost. An ocean between them. No way to cross it or to get back to the way things had been. He didn’t know a thing about her anymore, and that was all on him.
“Would you like something?” she finally asked.
“Uh…yeah…sure,” he mumbled, moving through the awkwardness to the display and peering inside. It was stocked with a ton of different types of cookies, chocolate chip and sugar and everything in between. Elaborately decorated cupcakes. Pies and cakes. One of them caught his eye, a dark chocolate cake already cut into slices and set on plates. It had three pieces of white chocolate candy in the shape of stars decorating each.
“I’ll have one of those.” He pointed at it through the glass.
Dakota giggled a shy sound and pulled one out, and she carefully placed it into a white pastry box. She closed the lid and carried it to the register where he waited. She surprised him when she leaned a little his direction, her voice held low. “It looks like you still have good taste, Ryder Nash. That’s my one recipe in that case.”