Page 87 of Things We Burn

My heart rate went haywire. “What do you mean? Has someone—”

“No, it’s not as dramatic as all that,” Brax chuckled.

I wanted to plow my fist through his face for that chuckle.

“Although I would argue dropping everything, quitting her restaurant and leaving town is still pretty dramatic,” he continued, unaware of how close I was to ruining his veneers.

Everything in me silenced.

“What?” I gasped.

He looked at me with pity in his gaze. “Man, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this. Fuck.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I wanted her to be different for you, bro, I really did. I didn’t think she was one of those clout chasers, in it for whatever they can get out of you. But she got her interview, got paid six figures for it, and now she’s gone.”

“Fuck off.” I slumped into the chair. “She’s not gone. Chef wouldn’t leave. She promised.”

“She came to see me a few days ago, before she left,” he sighed again. “And her mind was made up.”

“Bullshit,” I spat, looking up at Brax. “She’s not fucking gone. She’ll be here.”

Brax shrugged his shoulders. “I wish I had your optimism. And maybe she will be.”

There was no maybe about it.

Chef had not gone. I knew that shit surer than I knew anything.

She had promised me.

Fifteen

FOUR MONTHS LATER

AVERY

Jupiter,Maine was as good a place as any to hide. In fact, it could be described as one of thebestplaces to run to.

It was idyllic, picturesque, settled on the rugged coastline, with idyllic, sea-weathered cottages. With well-maintained, colorful businesses on the cobbled main street. No chain restaurants or big-box stores to be seen. Everything was mom-and-pop, from the grocery store to the bakery that offered the best croissants I’d had inside and outside of France. Along with everything else in the pretty display cabinet.

The pastry chef was one of the most talented I’d encountered in my life. Which was saying something. When I’d first bit into her food, I’d told myself that I’d have to recruit her for the restaurant.

A thought that I’d had on instinct, a thought belonging to the person I used to be … before. The chef of a Michelin star restaurant. Someone with power, respect, a purpose.

Except I wasn’t her.

I no longer had a restaurant.

Hadn’t had any of the markers of my identity for the past decade.

Didn’t have Kane.

It was the last thing that bothered me the most.

Not being in the kitchen, not feeling the hum of it, the heat… Yeah, it left a hole inside of me. But not like the gaping chasm I felt without Kane.

And at the same time, I felt an emptiness. I was growing. Growing with a child we’d forged. One that would forever serve as the reminder of what I’d had. What I’d thought was something special, everything.

And what I’d lost.

Except you had to actually have something in order to lose it. And Kane had informed me, through Brax, through those scrawled, heartbreaking letters, that I had never had it in the first place. Hadn’t ever truly had him.

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