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As she closed the door between us, I caught a glimpse of her phone screen: multiple missed calls from the same number, the contact listed simply as "M."

Whatever Kit was running from had a name.

And looking at the fear that flickered across her face before she could hide it, I had the sinking feeling that name on her screen didn't belong here. But it was coming anyway.

Chapter 4

Micah

The morning rush at the bakery had been lighter than usual, just the regulars picking up their Saturday treats and a few tourists drawn in by the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls. I was pulling the last batch of blueberry muffins from the oven when the bell above the door chimed, bringing with it a familiar vanilla-and-honey scent that made my alpha instincts sit up and take notice.

Kit.

I looked up to see her standing just inside the doorway, looking uncertain and a little lost. She'd changed since yesterday, still beautiful, but there was a tension in her shoulders that hadn't been there when I'd delivered the welcome cookies. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing an oversized cardigan that seemed designed to hide rather than flatter.

Something had rattled her.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," I said, setting down the muffin tin and wiping my flour-dusted hands on my apron. "Come for those muffins Charlie's been advertising?"

She managed a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Actually, yes. If you have any to spare."

"For you? Always." I gestured toward the display case, where golden-brown muffins studded with plump blueberries sat in neat rows. "Fresh out of the oven, still warm."

"They smell incredible," Kit said, approaching the counter with careful steps. "How many would be appropriate for a neighbor who's trying to apologize for being weird this morning?"

There it was, confirmation that something had happened between her visit to Jonah's and now. My protective instincts, already humming from her distressed scent, kicked into higher gear.

"Depends on how weird we're talking," I said lightly, pulling out a bakery bag. "Scale of one to ten, where one is forgetting to say thank you and ten is accidentally setting something on fire."

That earned me a genuine laugh, small but real. "Maybe a six? I kind of ran out on them after breakfast without much explanation."

"Ah." I nodded sagely as I selected the biggest, most perfect muffins from the display. "Definitely a half-dozen situation then. Maybe throw in some of those chocolate chip cookies Charlie likes."

"I’m not sure…"

"Kit." I kept my voice gentle but firm. "In my experience, there's very little that can't be improved with the right baked goods. Consider this a professional consultation."

She was quiet for a moment, watching me work. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "Do you ever miss it? Your old life, before you came here?"

The question caught me off guard. I paused in my cookie selection, considering how much truth to offer this woman who was clearly dealing with her own past.

"Every day," I said finally. "But missing something and wanting it back aren't the same thing."

Kit's eyes met mine, and I saw understanding there. Recognition of someone else who'd left pieces of themselves behind in service of survival.

"What brought you here?" she asked.

"Love," I said simply. "And loss."

I'd loved Laura with the kind of intensity that I thought only came once in a lifetime, the bond so deep that when she left, it felt like losing a limb. We'd been together for three years, talking about forever, when she decided I wasn't ambitious enough for the life she wanted. She'd found someone else, an alpha with bigger plans and grander dreams than I could apparently offer.

The breakup had been brutal, made worse by the way she'd handled it. She disappeared one day with half our shared belongings and a note explaining that she needed "more" than what we had. Her family had been horrified. Her sister Liv had been the one to stage an intervention, packing me into her car and driving me to Hollow Haven for what she called "a change of scenery and some perspective." I'd intended to stay a week. That was four years ago.

"I'm sorry," Kit said quietly.

"Thank you. It gets easier, but it never really goes away." I finished packing her bag, adding an extra muffin because she looked like she hadn't been eating enough. "The trick is learning to carry it without letting it carry you."

"And you think baking helps with that?"