Page 1 of The Alpha's Addiction
ONE
Adeline
The timer dings,its sharp chime slicing through the warm, cinnamon-scented air of my tiny kitchen.I smile, my heart giving a little flutter of satisfaction, and bustle over to the oven.The moment I open the door, a wave of heat rushes out, wrapping around me like a blanket.I lean back slightly, blowing a puff of breath upward to chase away the loose strands of hair clinging to my forehead.
The pies are perfect.
Golden-brown crusts glisten beneath the overhead lights, tiny pockets of cherry juice bubbling through the slits in the top.I inhale deeply, letting the sweet scent of cherries, sugar, and butter fill my lungs and warm my chest.There’s something magical about this moment—pulling something beautiful and comforting from the oven.It’s like therapy.
Baking has always been my refuge.My safe place.
When I was a kid, I used to sneak into the kitchen with my mom's old cookbook and try out recipes while she worked her night shifts.We didn’t have much, but she always made sure we had flour, sugar, and butter.It became my ritual.Had a bad day?Brownies.Feeling excited?Cupcakes.Restless?A new recipe.There isn’t a single emotion that a baked good can’t soothe.At least, that’s what I believe.
I slide the pies onto the cooling rack next to the cupcakes and cookies I’ve already prepared.They’re waiting to be boxed up for delivery in the morning, each order labeled with a neat little handwritten tag.Organized.Predictable.Comforting.
Moving to Night Grove Falls was supposed to shake things up.I spent my whole life in Atlanta, stuck in a routine that became so suffocating it made even my favorite recipes taste bland.My life there grew stale, and so did I.So, I packed up my mixer, my books, and my courage, and moved across the country.
To Oregon.To the mountains.To this sleepy, picturesque little town nestled among towering trees and endless skies.
Night Grove Falls was supposed to be a fresh start.
And it has been—in some ways.I landed my dream gig baking desserts for local restaurants.I get to work from home, set my own hours, and spend my days elbows-deep in flour and frosting.I’ve had time to read, to nest, to breathe.
But something is still missing.
I turn off the oven and wander over to the window, wiping my hands on a flour-dusted dish towel.Outside, the sun is setting, casting long shadows through the dense forest that surrounds my apartment building.The sky is a swirling canvas of pink, gold, and dusky blue.It’s breathtaking.And lonely.
I swallow against the lump forming in my throat.I should be used to being alone.I’ve been alone for most of my life.My mom worked three jobs when I was growing up, and when she passed away during my freshman year of college, it was just me.No siblings.No extended family worth mentioning.
Just me.
Well, Holly and me.
A smile tugs at my lips at the thought of my best friend.Holly was the one bright spot in my otherwise quiet childhood.We were inseparable from the moment we met in middle school.She’s the kind of person who brings the sun with her wherever she goes—confident, bold, hilarious.The exact opposite of me.But somehow, we clicked.We always have.
Leaving her was the hardest part of moving.
My phone rings, cutting through the silence, and I don’t even have to look at the screen.
"Hey, I was just thinking about you," I say, answering the call.
"Missing me already?"Holly teases, her voice like a shot of espresso—sharp, energizing, and familiar.
"Always," I say truthfully.
"Then maybe you shouldn’t have moved across the country."
"Maybe you should move out here instead.You’d love it.We could get a cute little two-bedroom apartment.You could help me taste-test all my recipes."
"And risk burning down your kitchen?"she snorts."Addy, I nearly set my microwave on fire trying to reheat soup."
I giggle, imagining the chaos she’d bring into my neat little kitchen.
"Fair point.But I miss you.It’s not the same without you here."
She sighs."I miss you, too.Things have been...ugh.Work’s a nightmare, my landlord is raising the rent again, and my car keeps making this weird clunking noise."
"That sounds awful," I say, frowning."I’m serious, Hol.If you need a break, come stay with me.My couch is always open."
