Page 13 of A Very Merry Enemy
Sammy crosses his arms, looking so much like our dad in this moment, it’s unnerving. “You’re both acting like children, and I’m stuck in the middle. He’s my best friend, you’re my twin sister, and I don’t want to have to choose anymore.”
“No one’s asking you to do that.”
“Aren’t you? Because I can’t mention him without you shutting down, and I can’t mention you without him losing his shit.” He grabs a cookie from the cooling rack. “I just want things to be like they used to be. When we could all hang out without this…whatever this is.”
I set down the piping bag and look at him.
He has no idea what he’s asking for. No idea what happened that summer after graduation. What happened when I came home that Christmas.
“That can never happen, Sammy.”
“Funny, that’s the only thing you two can agree on,” he says.
Bethany’s eyes widen from the doorway, and I lower my voice. “Things changed. People changed.”
“But you’re still you, he’s still him?—”
“No.” The word comes out harsher than I intend. “The three of us hanging out, laughing, and being friends are gone. It’s been gone for years, and I’m sorry, but that’s never coming back.”
“Holiday—”
“I mean it. You can’t fix this. He’s an asshole, and I won’t put up with his bullshit. He’s not a kind person.” I pick up the piping bag again and focus on the cookies because it’s easier than looking at his face. “Keep us separate. It’s better that way.”
Sammy shakes his head, disappointment written all over hisface. “Fine. But you should know—being on this side of it is exhausting. And tree season just started.”
He heads for the door, then pauses. “You think you have this under control. You don’t.”
After he leaves, I try to push his words away. But they stick—just like the memory of Lucas backing me against that bathroom door. Just like the dream I woke up from this morning.
The morning rush is crazier than it was over the weekend. By eleven, we’re completely sold out. There was already a line of people waiting when I opened the doors at nine.
Bethany heads to school, and I spend the afternoon prepping for tomorrow. Mixing dough, cutting shapes, getting ahead. My back aches, my feet throb, but I push through. This is what I do. This is what I’m good at.
By the time the sun sets, I’ve prepped enough for two full days. My eyes are burning with exhaustion when I finally lock up and head to my car.
The parking lot is mostly empty with just my car in front of the bakery and Lucas’s truck parked by the equipment shed near the gift shop. He’s probably doing inventory or maintenance. He and his brothers take care of the endless jobs that keep a place like this running so smoothly. They’re good at what they do.
I don’t let myself think about how he used to text me when he was working late. How we’d sneak off to the barn and?—
No. That was a lifetime ago.
I climb into my car and press the start button, but nothing happens.
“No, no, no.” I try again.
I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, too exhausted to deal with this.
I could call my parents, but they’re probably already in bed. Sammy, too. Everyone I know is settling in for the night because normal people don’t work eighteen-hour days.
I glance at Lucas’s truck and realize I’d rather walk the two miles home than ask him for help.
It’s dark now, the temperature is dropping fast, and I’m wearing the wrong shoes for this, but I make my way across the parking lot. I’ll manage because I always do.
I barely make it to the gravel driveway before I hear his truck rumble to life. Headlights flick on, and he drives past me without slowing down. Doesn’t even look at me.
Good. I don’t need his help anyway.
I keep walking, my breath fogging in the cold air. There’s a trail that cuts behind his grandmother’s house that I’ve taken a hundred times when we were teenagers. Back when we’d meet up to ride horses or sneak off to just be together. Back when he treated me like I mattered.
