Page 5 of Second Chance Serenity

“Morning.” My response is curt, and I don’t wait around for him to try to talk to me more as I turn and head back up the shoreline. I need to shower, get to the hospital for my volunteer hours, then get home in time to start baking for the first school board meeting of the year.

Unfortunately, Michael falls into step beside me. “Sleep well?”

“Fine.”

“Busy day?”

“Yup.” As always, I keep my responses short, but as usual, Michael doesn’t seem to care.

“Me, too. Just got back into town, and I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on.”

“Good for you.”

“Reyna—”

“What do you want, Michael? I’m busy.” Stopping, I turn to face him and cross both arms. It hurts to look at him, like staring into the sun. Because he was that for me for so long. My light. My everything. And he’d thrown it all away without a second glance.

“I just—” He runs a hand over the back of his hair. “I miss talking to you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you left town.”

“Are you ever going to not hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, Michael. I just want nothing to do with you. Have a good day.” I turn away from him and start running down the beach, hoping that my past stays exactly where it belongs—behind me.

As soon as I’ve made the thirty-minute jog home, I turn on the shower, then check my phone for any messages that might have come in while I was out. Thankfully, there’s not anything overly pressing, so I start the oven’s preheat, grab a shower, get dressed, and prep my morning cup of coffee.

My sourdough starter is nice and bubbly, so as soon as I’ve taken my first shots of caffeine, I prep the dough for the loaves of bread I plan to deliver to Pastor Redding for the church’s food drive. As those are setting, I pull out the cookie dough I’d made when I got home late last night and start spooning the balls of dough onto prepared baking sheets.

Baking is my therapy. It honestly always has been, at least as long as I can remember. I’d even worked with the Pastor’s wife, Kyra, when she’d opened her bakery my junior year of high school.

So as I pop the cookies into the oven, I immediately start mixing the batter for my lemon blueberry loaf. But as I’m pouring the berries in, I’m hit with the memory of when Michael had helped me bake for our school’s fundraiser.

Tears burn in the corners of my eyes, and I plant both hands on the countertop as I’m hit with yet another memory that refuses to stay buried.

“You can’t keep eating the dough or we won’t have anything to sell.”

Michael comes behind me and cages me in, placing both of his hands on the countertop, then leans in and rests his chin on my shoulder. The closeness of his body warms me, and I lean back into him.

We’ve been together so long now that touching him is second nature to me. Being near him is my favorite place to be.

“But it’s delicious.”

“Still. We need these for the senior trip.” I turn in his arms and press a quick kiss to his mouth.

“Gross.”

Michael laughs and kisses my nose before pulling away and facing his sister Margot, who came over to borrow a sweater. She’s two years younger than Michael and I are, but she and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. “You don’t get any of Rey’s cookies.”

“Reyna is my best friend,” Margot replies. “Therefore, I am automatically allowed to have any cookies she is willing to give me.”

“There won’t be any if your brother doesn’t stop eating them.”

Michael sticks his tongue out at Margot, then leans back against the countertop. “I could live off of your baking.”

I smile and my cheeks heat. “I could live off of your enjoyment of my baking.”

Michael’s grin spreads. “Forever then?”

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