Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
The kitchen door creaks open—too loud in the quiet. Karian’s head appears, her dark curls catching the overhead light. “Hey, boss. You good?”
My fingers flex around the rolling pin. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About?”
I exhale through my nose. “Hella texted. Wants us in Tāwaha tomorrow. Says he’s got something to show me.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Good something or bad something?”
I grumble under my breath about never really knowing when it comes to him.
She studies me, arms crossed over her apron. “You believe him?”
The weight of the rolling pin grounds me. Hella’s voice echoes in my head—Trust me. He hasn’t given me a reason not to. Not lately. “Yeah. I believe him.”
Karian nods, shifting her weight against the doorframe. “You know I’ve got this place, right? If you need to be in Tāwaha.”
I pause. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” Her grin flashes, quick and warm. “Billy’s finally nailing the morning pastries. Kid’s got hands and skill.”
I snort. “He torched three batches of croissants last week.”
“Details.” Karian waves a hand. “He's learning. And honestly? Having him here means you don't have to be. Which means you can focus on—” She stops. “On what you need to focus on.”
On Olive. On Hella. On pretending my sister isn't being trained to be-whatever it is.
“Thanks.” Guilt hits me. “I mean it. You’ve been so great lately. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Anytime, boss.” She pushes off the doorframe. “Now finish that dough in time for the lunch rush.”
She disappears back into the front. I hear her greeting another customer. That bright, cheerful voice she uses.
I look down at the dough. It's overworked now. Too warm from my hands. Won't rise properly.
Doesn't matter. I'll start over.
That's what I'm good at now. Starting over.
Olive bounces in her car seat the entire drive to Tāwaha, questions coming in rapid fire. I learned quickly that this was Olive excited.
“Are we seeing Daddy?”
I change the song. “Yeah, baby. We're seeing Daddy.”
“And Garret?” Her foot connects to the back of my chair. “And Nan-nan?”
“Probably.” Fucking MGK? Who put this shit on my playlist.
“And Aunty Millie?”
My finger pauses over the button on my steering wheel. “No, baby. Remember? Aunt Millie's working.”
“But it's been forever.” She drags out the word like only a five-year-old can. “When's she coming back?”
Skip, skip, skippidy skip. “I don't know.”
“But you said soon,” she whines, kicking the back of my chair again.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“So when's soon?”
“Olive.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend. “I said I don't know. Okay?”
She goes quiet, and I glance in the rear-view mirror in time to catch her lip quiver.
Crap..
“Hey.” I soften my tone, feeling like shit. “I'm sorry, baby. Mummy's tired.”
Her eyes drift out the window. “You're always tired now.”
“I know.” I wince, sinking into my seat.
“Is it because of Aunt Millie?”
My throat closes. “No. It's because I work a lot.”
“Daddy says you work too much.”
“Daddy talks too much.”
That makes her giggle, and the sound remixes with an old Bone-Thugs song.
This time I don’t skip.
At this moment, everything feels less heavy.
My phone buzzes holder, a text flashing across the screen.
Take the Northshore exit toward Devonport.
Auckland city spreads out before us. Tāwaha is a twenty-minute drive out from the city, but close enough to live here or there and it not be a big deal.
Hella's bike appears in my rearview mirror. He must have been waiting at the exit. Following us in.
Something in my chest loosens. Seeing him. Knowing he's there.
I follow his directions, skipping the Harbour Bridge and driving toward the Northshore.
Slowly the streets blend and spread out through the suburbs you drive through to get to Devonport, before finally widening out onto Victorian-style boutiques and homes and village cafés and sidewalks. Trees are planted at regular intervals. Shops with clean windows and fresh paint.
Hella pulls ahead. Parks his bike outside a large building with floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
I pull in beside him and cut the engine.
The shop is gorgeous. Black walls. A chandelier is visible through the front window. Elegant script on the glass that I can't quite read from this angle.
“Where are we?” Olive unbuckles herself before I can stop her.
“I don't know, baby. Let's find out.”
Hella's off his bike. Pulling his helmet free. His hair's longer than it was two months ago. Dark, messy, and perfect, but not long enough to push him into a barber.
He grins when he sees us. That real smile he only gives us. Not the club. Not anyone else.
“Hey, princess.” He scoops Olive into his arms, and she squeals. I’m way out of my depth here. These two far outnumber me.
“Daddy! You didn't tell me we were having an adventure!”
“That's because it's a surprise.” He looks at me over her head. “For both of you.”
My stomach flips. “What kind of surprise?”
“The kind you're going to love.” He sets Olive down, reaching into his cut and pulling out a set of keys. “Come on.”