Page 49 of Always the Baker

“Okay,” Billie said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where do you want to start?”

“How about we take a walk? Some fresh air might do us both good.”

Billie nodded as relief washed over her face. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

The small town streets were quiet compared to the bustle of the cities I was used to. As we walked side by side, I could feel the tension crackling between us like static electricity. Every accidental brush of our arms sent a jolt through my system. Damn, I missed her.

“So, where is this mural?”

Billie’s eyes lit up with a hint of her usual spark returning. “Oh! Yeah, it’s just around the corner. I can show you if you want.”

I smiled, genuinely curious. “Lead the way.”

As we rounded the corner, I saw it—a massive, colorful mural spanning the entire side of an old brick building. My jaw dropped. “Wow, Hopkins. This is incredible.”

She blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks. It’s, um, kind of my heart on display, you know?”

I stepped closer, taking in the intricate details.

“Tell me about it,” I urged softly.

Billie took a deep breath.

“Well, see those swirling patterns there?” She pointed to a section of vibrant blues and greens. “That represents my small town roots, always grounding me. And those bursts of color shooting upwards? That’s my dreams, my ambitions.”

I nodded, captivated by both the art and the artist beside me.

“The cityscape in the background,” she continued, her voice growing stronger, “that’s the world I’ve always wanted to be a part of. But see how it’s slightly out of focus? That’s because…”

She trailed off, biting her lip again. I turned to face her fully, waiting.

“Because I’m not sure if I truly belong there,” Billie finished quietly, her eyes meeting mine.

I felt a lump form in my throat. Here was Billie, laying her soul bare through her art, and I was floored by her raw honesty. The vulnerability in her eyes, the passion in her voice as she explained her work, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Billie, this is, you’re incredible. The way you’ve captured all of that emotion, all of those dreams, it’s powerful stuff.”

“Thank you.” Her bashful expression made me step closer.

“I think I finally get how you feel about my music. Your art makes me feel the same way.”

She smiled softly with a hint of pride shining through her uncertainty. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” I replied, turning back to the mural. “And for what it’s worth, I think you belong anywhere you want to be. City, small town, doesn’t matter. Your talent shines through no matter where you are.”

We stood there in silence for a moment. The weight of everything unsaid hung between us. I snuck a glance at Billie, noticing how the setting sun caught the brown and blonde highlights in her braids, how her eyes seemed to sparkle as she gazed at her creation.

Suddenly, it hit me. My feelings for her hadn’t changed one bit. If anything, seeing this side of her, the artist, the dreamer, only made me fall harder.

Billie must have sensed my stare because she turned to me. “Brax? What are you thinking?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m thinking I was a damn fool for ever letting you go. But being here, seeing your work, seeing you, it’s made me realize something.”

She raised an eyebrow. There was a mix of curiosity and caution in her expression. “Oh? And what’s that?”

I took a deep breath. “That I want to try again. With you. If you’ll let me.”

Billie’s eyes widened, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Brax, I’d…”

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