Page 11 of Keeping You
I bend down, forcing her to look me in the eye. “I want to, Anna. Please.”
“Don’t you have to get back to work?”
“Anna—”
“Fine. But Iwillpay you back.”
While I’m pouring a coffee to go, satisfied that at least there’s something I can fix, the bell above the front door chimes, and we all turn hopefully toward the sound. But it’s just Mr. Henderson, the high school principal. That man has been the principal for as long as I can remember. Only now is his hair a mix of salt and pepper, and he wears reading glasses. At least he’s a loyal customer.
“Morning, Mr. Henderson,” Harper calls out, her customer service smile sliding into place.
“Morning, Harper. Luke, nice to have you back in town where you belong, son.” He nods at me, and I’m grateful he doesn’t seem to hold my reputation against the bakery.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I’ll take my usual.”
As Harper rings him up, I catch movement across the street. Callie’s standing in the library doorway, and for a moment, I’m certain our eyes meet. She stiffens, her hand tightening on the door frame. Then she’s gone, disappearing back inside like I imagined the whole thing.
“You know,” Mr. Henderson says, pulling my attention back, “that young lady sure has done wonders with the library. Programming book clubs and story hours for kids. She has a real community spirit. I’m glad she didn’t stray too far from town for too long. She and her sister are the last living Coopers. They belong here.” He takes his muffin and heads for the door, then pauses. “Shame about all this business with that Kirk Adamsfellow. Outsider, he is. That boy never deserved her anyway. Or you, Harper.”
Harper gasps as Mr. Henderson leaves the shop.
Anna shakes her head, and I shove a plastic lid onto my coffee cup, not sure what to say in the awkward moment. But before I can make my escape, the bell chimes again, and we all glance up to see Callie strolling through our front door.
It’s like my heart stopped beating for a solid two seconds before kicking back into overdrive.
She’s wearing a sundress the color of a summer sky, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail that makes her appear younger than her thirty-two years. She looks like sunshine, but there’s steel in her spine, determination in the set of her shoulders, and pure resolve in her eyes.
This isn’t a casual visit.
“Callie!” Harper’s voice is bright with surprise and something that might be hope. “What brings you by?”
Callie’s gaze flicks to Harper briefly before settling on me. “I need to talk to Luke.” Her voice is steady, controlled. Professional.
Harper’s grin drops, and the hurt in her face is unmistakable as Callie’s cold tone hits its mark. The hopeful light that had brightened her expression when Callie walked in is extinguished, as if someone snuffed out a candle.
“I’ll go check on the oven,” she mumbles, her voice catching slightly. She turns away quickly, shoulders hunched as she makes her retreat to the kitchen, where Anna’s already disappeared.
And then it’s just me and Callie, separated by a glass display case full of pastries that nobody seems to want anymore, and I'm filled with conflicting emotions. Do I go after my baby sister, or find out why Callie’s here? If there’s anything I can do or say to bridge this distance between them, I’ll do it.
“Could we go outside, please?” She folds her hands in front of her, every inch the composed librarian.
“Sure.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended.
She immediately spins and exits the store.
I follow and find her quickly walking away, toward the small park near the town hall.
She keeps glancing over her shoulder, not at me, but at the row of storefronts where curious faces peek through windows. Her fingers fidget with the strap of her purse, and there’s a determined set to her jaw that reminds me of when she’d made up her mind about something as a teenager, like the time she decided to run for class president against the most popular girl in school. That same look of calculated risk is written all over her face now.
Finally, she stops near a park bench and turns around to face me.
“I was thinking,” she starts, her voice a tad shaky.
“About?”
She sighs and bites her lip, a nervous gesture, confirmed by the fact that she won’t look me in the eye.
