Page 94 of Cherish

She chitters back at me, and while I don’t understand what she’s saying, I definitely understand the tone—which is completely snarky in all the worst ways.

“It appears that she can,” Hudson tells me in a voice so innocent that I know it’s taking everything he’s got not to laugh.

I shoot him a glare that promises all kinds of terrible things if he gives in to the urge, and he responds with his suavest, most charming smile. The fact that it works on me, even when I know exactly what he’s doing and why he’s doing it, only makes me grumpier.

There was a chill in the air earlier, so I trade my magenta sweater for a warmer, plusher dark-green one and pull it on over my T-shirt before heading for the door.

Hudson pulls on a purple sweater, then asks, “Where do you want to go while we wait to talk to Nyaz?” as we begin to round up our friends.

“I was thinking…” I knock on Macy’s door first and am unsurprised when she throws it open less than two seconds later. She may be lost and depressed at the moment, but Macy is still Macy. And that means she’s always the first one in line for an adventure.

He glances down at me with a serious expression. “Maybe we could start at Gillie’s.”

My heart kicks into overdrive—and not because my mate just read my mind. “Do you think she’s okay?” I whisper. “We saw her get hit by time-dragon fire, so her timeline should have reset. But she looked so…so…”Dead.I can’t get the image of her throwing herself in front of the mayor out of my head—her limp body, right there in the town square—

Hudson saves me from spiraling. “Smokey is here. I think Gillie will be, too. Let’s go find out for sure.”

“Who’s Gillie?” Macy asks before banging on Eden’s door.

“The best baker in Adarie,” Hudson answers, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Though even she couldn’t teach Grace how to make a simple pastry.”

I roll my eyes at him, but his ribbing works. My stomach has settled from extreme nausea to simple nerves, because he’s right—Gilliewillbe at her bakery, ready with perfect baked goods and all of the town’s gossip.

The bakery may not be at the actual center of town, but in all the ways that matter, it really is the town’s center. Hudson may joke about the fact that I only lasted a day working there—my choux was truly terrible—but we both whiled away many an hour in the place during our first trip.

Not only does Gillie make the best pastries in Adarie, and maybe the entire Shadow Realm, but she also makes a mean cup of tea. One Hudson rarely went a day without during our time here.

Once we’ve got the others, we hit the town.

“So where do smugglers hang out?” Flint asks no one in particular in a low undertone.

“The docks, normally,” Heather answers. “At least on TV.”

I shake my head. “That may be so, but Adarie’s landlocked. So I’m pretty sure there are no docks here.”

“I think you mean Vegaville,” Flint teases.

“How could I forget?” I wink at Hudson. “We’re going to Gillie’s bakery first regardless.”

Of course, to get there we have to cross through the center of town square, right past the giant statue of Hudson. I deliberately try not to look at it, but it’s so in your face that ignoring it is pretty much impossible.

On the plus side, Smokey’s picnic blanket seems to be holding its own for now, so that’s one less thing to worry about.

“The bakery where you got fired after the first day?” Heather asks. “You actually still want to go there?”

“I got fired because I was completely incompetent, not because Gillie was a bad boss,” I tell her. “Besides, nothing happens in this town that someone at Gillie’s doesn’t know about.”

Five minutes later, we’re huddled around two of the small white-and-pink ice cream tables that line the bakery’s window.

I can’t spot Gillie, but the bakery itself looks the same as it did when Hudson and I were living here. That’s got to be a good sign, right?

The place is crowded right now, and while a bunch of the customers and employees keep shooting looks at our table, no one approaches.

I’m not sure if that’s because they all got their chance to say hi to Hudson earlier or if they’re too shy to approach the group of us. Either way, it’s kind of a bummer, because it’s pretty hard to pump people for information if they don’t want to talk to you.

In the end, I send Hudson and Jaxon up to the counter to get teas for everyone and snacks for those of us who don’t survive by drinking blood. “What kind of pastries do you want?” Jaxon asks as he pushes back from the table.

“Anything that isn’t made with choux,” I answer. Because while the pastries made with Gillie’s choux really are a marvel, it’s going to take longer than it’s been before I’m willing to eat the dough made from flour and butter.

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