Page 45 of The Hero I Can't Resist
I turn the camera back on and go to look at the macarons. There’s no hiding my disappointment. It’s like it all hits me at once. I pick up one of the cookies on a spatula and hold it up to the camera. Defeated, my voice is low and flat. “All right, guys, it’s been an hour, and by now the tops should be dry before baking, but they’re still sticky.” I poke myfinger into the cookie to demonstrate how sticky they are. “Which means if I bake them now, they’re likely going to explode and not rise.”
I set the cookie down and look directly into the camera. “This is kind of like relationships, ya know? You can do it all, and it feels good, you’re happy, and then it just falls apart when the heat hits.”
Lost, I stare into the camera and then shake my head. “Anyway, this batch is probably doomed, so I’m going to call it a night. I’ll try this again later… when I’m ready, but for now, I dunno. Maybe it’s good to sometimes share with you my baking fails.”
I blow out a breath. Everything feels so heavy right now, and before the tears start to fall, I know I should sign off. “Anyway, Cookie Crew, thanks for being here, and thanks for watching. I’ll see you soon!”
I no sooner turn off the camera than the tears start to fall. Instantly, Aria is there, her arms around me, and I bury my head in her shoulder. I don’t hold anything back as my body wracks with sobs.
Aria is rubbing my back, and she softly tries to soothe me. “I know, sweetie. I know it hurts. Let it all out. I’m here.”
I lean into her and don’t even try to hold back the tears. I couldn’t if I tried. The air is filled with the scent of almonds and icing, and even in all this, I refuse to fall into the grief. The cookies on the counter are not salvageable, but maybe, just maybe, my heart still can be.
CHAPTER 21
ZACH
My phone rings, and I look at the caller ID. As soon as I see my sister’s name, I know I have to answer it. “Hey, sis.”
Abby sighs. “Zach Campbell, if I wasn’t so worried about you, I would be yelling at you right now. Are you okay?”
I tap a pen on my desk. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Fine?” she shrills. “You’re fine? You shot someone! You were?—”
I cut her off. “Abby, listen, I’m okay. I was on the job.”
She groans. “I know it was the Brody sister. I heard she was in the hospital. Is she okay?”
Well, the small town gossip is alive and well. “Yes, she’s okay. I mean, she was hurt, but she’s going to be okay.”
My mind starts to race, replaying everything from yesterday, and I have to shake the thoughts out. “So uh, how are my niece and nephew? I need to come and see them.”
Abby huffs. “They’re fine… Zach, are you okay? I mean, you just sound, I dunno, off.”
I hate it. Even with the age difference, my sister and I have always been close, and normally, I’d talk to her about this, but right now, it’s too fresh. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just overwhelmed with… everything, but I’m okay.” I hate for my sister to worry about me, and she always does. I should have called her yesterday. “I’m sorry, sis. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’m sorry you had to hear about it from someone else. I’m sorry?—”
“Stop,” she says. “Stop it right now, Zach. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just needed to know you’re okay, but it’s obvious that something is bothering you.”
I massage my temples. “Yeah, you’re right, okay, and I promise I’ll talk to you about it, but I can’t… not right now… not yet.”
I just can’t right now. I’m barely holding it together, and I’m afraid I’ll lose my shit if I start telling Abby everything.
She starts a rant. “What is it with you guys? Davis is the same way. He thinks he’s gotta handle everything on his own. Like I can’t handle it.”
I can’t help it; I laugh. “Your husband doesn’t think you can’t handle it. He just doesn’t want you to have to handle it. He wants to take care of you.”
“Zach, I’m worried about you.”
I nod. “I know you are, but I’m okay, and I’ll come over later this week and tell you everything.”
She pauses. “I watch the Cookie Crew, bub, and I saw you on there. Was that real? Or was that part of the job?”
I blow out a rushed breath. “It was real.”
“Was?” she asks.
I stare up at the white ceiling. “Yeah… was.”
