Page 47 of Always the Baker

I stood in front of the mailbox with the letter clutched tightly in my hand. My heart was racing faster than a squirrel on caffeine.

Come on, Billie.

Dropping this letter in felt like I was offering up a piece of my soul to the postal gods. What if Brax never got it? What if his doorman intercepted it, tossing it in the trash along with the hundreds of fan letters he probably received daily?

I groaned, leaning my forehead against the cool metal of the mailbox.

Taking a deep breath, I finally slid the letter into the slot. The soft thud it made as it hit the bottom sounded like a death knell to my ears.

“Well, that’s that,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant even though no one was around to hear me.

As I turned to walk back into the house, my phone vibrated with a call. It was Mom.

“Hey, honey, you okay? Just saw you outside the house on the camera.”

“Yeah, Mom. Just sent a letter that might change my life but it’s no big deal.”

“To Brax?”

I nodded though she couldn’t see me. I’d finally opened up and given her more details when she asked about me painting the mural.

“That’s my girl. Whatever happens, I’m proud of you.”

I smiled, feeling a little better. At least someone believed in me, even if I wasn’t sure Brax would.

I closed my eyes, imagining him receiving the letter, opening it with those strong, guitar-calloused hands. Would he crumple it up immediately? Or would he give me a chance?

14

Brax

I saton the edge of my bed with Billie’s letter clutched in my hands. My eyes scanned the words for what felt like the hundredth time, each read-through making my heart ache a little more.

“Shit,” I muttered, running a hand over my face.

I felt like I might have screwed things up between us. A part of me knew my reaction was my ego and residual hurt from the Amalia situation. Had it not been for her, I probably wouldn’t have reacted to Billie the way I did. Yeah, Billie lied, but the lies were explainable and not personally concerning me. I valued honesty and transparency, so I still would have been angered by it, but I would have had more clarity and the ability to communicate better if it wasn’t for dealing with superficial women or women who used me.

Billie’s words were raw, honest. No fancy prose or attempts to impress me, just her truth laid bare on the page. I could practically hear her voice, that slight breathy twang creeping in when she got emotional.

“I know I’m just some small-town girl,” she’d written, “and you’re a famous star. But for a moment there, I thought maybe we had something real.”

My chest tightened and I sighed. I was exhausted from another late-night studio session. My phone buzzed. Probably my manager with more demands. But the notification caught my eye. It was an email from Billie.

My heart raced as I clicked it open. Her words spilled across the screen:

Brax, I’m sorry about everything. I never meant to hurt you or cause drama. The truth is, I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I was falling in love with you. Being with you made me feel alive in a way I never have before. I know I messed up, but I hope someday you can forgive me. I haven’t heard from you. Hope you got the letter. Are you even in The Hills? Probably not. If you did and you don’t want to hear from me, just let me know.

I read it three times, letting it sink in. This was the real Billie. This was the girl I’d fallen for. I’d been so quick to write her off and assume the worst. But her letter painted a different picture, and it gave me the space to process the truth without interrupting her or listening to respond instead of listening to comprehend.

I opened my laptop, figuring I’d distract myself with some mindless scrolling. But there it was, a post from the local arts council back in Billie’s hometown. They were featuring a new mural, and the image stopped me instantly.

It was breathtaking—a sprawling landscape that seemed to pulse with life and color. Rolling hills gave way to a vibrant cityscape, bridging country and city in perfect harmony. I chuckled when I saw what looked like half of my face with black paint over it. That led me to believe Billie had done this, but thatcouldn’t have been the case. Maybe it was my ego making me see things that weren’t there. I zoomed in on the bottom right of the picture.

And there in the corner was Billie’s signature.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, and I couldn’t help but laugh because I sounded like her. “Lil baby actually did it.”

I zoomed in, taking in every detail. The passion behind each brushstroke was obvious. This wasn’t just some tourist trap painting; this was Billie’s heart and soul on display. She’d combined her town and the city. Was that her way of combining her reality with her dream? Her present with her future? Maybe I was reaching… but I couldn’t let it go.

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