Page 33 of Crash and Burn

No. I don’t think so.

“That’s cool.” Faux relaxed, I turn to Raul, who watches us both with a tilted head, the way a puppy might study something puzzling. “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

“Sure.” He takes a step forward and chucks my chin the way Axel used to.

But I don’t react. I don’t scrunch my nose, or pull away, the way my body would like. I accept his touch and hope that, someday, I’ll be able to have a man’s hand on my body and not think of the asshole who could have had all of me.

Forever.

Instead, he threw me away and tossed a match on top to make sure I wouldn’t climb out of the trash.

As Raul walks away and lets himself out the door at the back of the shop, I return to my work and continue pulling trays down to cool.

“I got a postcard from Waltham, Massachusetts last night. My parents didn’t sign it, but I guess the fact they’re in the continental U.S. means they may come to your party.” I think on that for a beat, only to shrug. “I honestly don’t know. They haven’t called me in forever, but the postcards are getting closer.”

“So I guess we’ll tell Preston they’re amaybe.”

“Which is exceptionally rude,” I admit. Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I glance across and study Nicole’s profile. “An invitation requires a response, and their lack of one is rude. I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.” She tears off another page and starts fresh. “If they come, they come. And if they don’t, that’s fine too. It’s not like they have to be here to celebratemybirthday. I hardly even know them.”

“Either way.” I release my lip and move to the next tray. “An invitation requires an answer. I’m embarrassed on their behalf.”

“You are no more responsible for their behavior than I am for my brother’s.” With eyes that burn into mine, and a mind sharper than I give her credit for, Nicole sets her pencil down and curls a lock of hair around her finger. “He left us both, Hannah. He hardly calls. This will be his first visit since he got on that plane. And god knows, he doesn’t tell me where he is—purely so I can’t watch the news and worry.

“I know you and he were friendly, and I know he doesn’t call you either. But instead of getting angry with me, you’ve compartmentalized the two separate friendships and allowed ours to remain. If you think you should apologize for your parents’ lack of reply, then you would say the same about me and Axel.”

“It’s not your fault he left.” I hate the lump in my throat. The ball of heartache that still, all these months later, won’t go away. Because if one of us should be blamed for his absence, then maybe that person is me. “He’s an adult,” I rasp. “He makes his own choices.”

“As do we.” Releasing her hair, she allows a gentle smile to cross her lips. “Which is why instead of sitting home and wallowing about the man who chose to find a new career and skip out of town, abandoning usandJune, we expanded Juniper’s Bakery and turned it into a powerhouse.Everymonth since the merge, revenue has doubled. Every single month, Han. And that’s because you had a dream of more.”

I duck my head and swallow as a small inner voice mocks me. Like I chose more becausehesaid I was a nobody. Like I had a point to prove, all because he dismissed me.

The truth is, I had time to spare and a mind to keep busy.

I didn’t create my catering side business to please Axel Feeney, but rather, to spite him. To give me something to focus on other than the house that’s sat empty for nearly seven months. Or the truck that sits lifeless in its driveway. Untouched. Unloved. Unoccupied by the fireman who no longer flies past the shop every time we hear the sirens wail.

I needed a distraction, or risked losing my mind to insanity. Because, as it turns out, I may be prone to abandonment issues.

First my parents, and now Axel.

“I’m glad this thing between us is working out.” Clearing my throat, I turn on my heels and continue working. Stacking. Burning my hands because my oven mitts are well-used and thinning in places. “I had no clue there was such potential around here for a catering business.”

“People like to eat,” she murmurs. “Rarely do they want to feed. And since we already had the shop, the prep areas, the ovens, and everything else sitting here, it was a no brainer.”

“Yeah, well…” I grab the next tray of goodies and walk it to the long steel countertop for boxing. “It wouldn’t have happened if not for your help.”

She snorts. “It’s not help, it’s an investment. It’s practically free money for me at this point. And that,” she drops her pencil and pushes back so her stool grinds on the floor, “is something I can surely appreciate. Now, on a scale of one to death, how much are you dreading your date tonight?”

“Like…” I nibble on my bottom lip and heft the next tray to the counter with a grunt.Don’t need a gym membership, when I stack loaded metal trays and packed boxes for twelve hours a day.“Gaping wound,” I tell her. “Stabbed in the meaty part of my leg. Not quite dying, but not feeling the excitement, either.”

She giggles at my back, and pats my hip as she passes. “I can relate, I assure you.” She stops in the entryway that separates the front of Juniper’s Bakery, where the customers see, and the back, where we prep everything, which is about five times larger. “The fact I’m in a relationship at all is because Preston says so. He has enough energy and ‘go team’ for us both.”

“Don’t sound so sad about it.” I set the last tray on the counter and toss my mitts aside to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. “The sex is good. Everyone knows so.”

“The sex issogood,” she snickers. “And you never know, maybe Math King Alan will turn it up in bed and make you a willing participant in a hostage situation, too.”

“Maybe. One,” I hold up a finger on one hand, and circle my thumb and finger on the other, “plus a zero, equals a slammin’ good time. In theory.”

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