Don’t Go Away Mad by Lacey Black

Chapter Eight

Lyndee

I’m a mess. A stressed, freaked out mess.

I’ve been at the bakery since before the sun rose, anxious to get a jump on the product I’ll feature during tomorrow’s grand opening. I’ve baked breads, pies, cookies, and cakes. I have the dough ready to go in the fridge for tomorrow morning’s pastries. I recleaned the coffee pot and made sure napkin holders and other necessities are filled to the brim. Hell, I’ve even triple-checked to make sure the oven was properly hooked up and the refrigerator was operational. As tired as I am, and knowing I have to get up super early tomorrow, I just can’t seem to make myself go home.

I took Dustin home two hours ago. He was exhausted and ready to relax, though it was a hard sell to get him to leave. He wanted to stay if I was staying, but I knew he had reached his limit. He was willingly using the wheelchair, his motions more stiff than usual. He had been here early with me both yesterday and today, and it was taxing on him. Now, he’s watching television in his room and probably on his second frozen pizza.

When I glance at the clock, I see it’s after nine. I need to go home. Three in the morning is going to be here before I know it, and the last thing I want is to fall asleep while rolling the dough. Though, I don’t foresee that happening. I imagine I’ll be too amped up on adrenaline and caffeine. I probably won’t even realize I’m tired.

A knock on the front door grabs my attention.

Holy shit, someone’s at the door. Should I go out there? What if they’re here to kill me?

Seriously, Lyndee? You think most murderers knock on the front door to grab your attention? Why not just use the back door where they’re not standing directly beneath a streetlight?

Setting my towel down on the island, I slowly head to the front and peek around the doorway. My breathing hitches and surprise sweeps through my exhausted extremities. What is he doing here?

Jasper gives me a tentative wave. “Hey,” he says through the glass.

My feet carry me to the entrance, and I unlock the door. “Hi.”

He runs a hand through his messy hair. “I was just…well, I was leaving work and saw your lights on in the kitchen.”

I’m only slightly hesitant as I step back and grant him access. “Oh, yeah,” I respond, locking the door behind him. “I really need to go home and get some sleep, but…”

He turns around, his hands shoved in the pockets of his dark blue jeans, and gives me a grin. “But…you’re too amped up to sleep. I get it.”

I sigh and sag into the first chair I can find. “Yeah. I’m exhausted, but I can’t seem to shut my mind off.”

He nods in understanding. “Right before we opened Burgers and Brew, I swore anything that could go wrong was going to happen. I even called an electrician to double-check all the appliances, which was crazy since all of them were brand new and I’d been using them for two weeks to train the staff.”

I give him a tired smile. “I completely understand that.”

“Well, I’m sure everything is going to be fine tomorrow.”

“I hope,” I whisper, glancing down at his shoes. He’s incredibly casual this time. Instead of the pressed slacks and polo shirt, he’s wearing a pair of worn boots, jeans, and a hoodie sweatshirt beneath an old brown leather coat.

The room is filled with silence, but it’s surprisingly not awkward. I find myself just taking him in, noticing how he’s starting to relax against the counter, and realize I’m relaxing too. Back in school, our exchanges were always tense and full of electricity. I always thought it was because of some unspoken competition we seemed to constantly be engaged in, but now I’m not so sure. Looking back, it feels…sexual.

Yeah, I’m definitely exhausted.

“Did I ever tell you how I met my friends?” he asks, the softest smile playing on his full lips.

I shake my head. I know they met in college, Isaac mentioned it to me in conversation, but don’t know the story. I mean, it’s not like we were friends back then and actually told each other those kinds of things. No, we were competitors, and competitors didn’t exactly share personal information that could potentially be used against us.

“Well, Walker and Jameson were friends from high school. Jameson didn’t actually go to college, but he was always visiting Walker on the weekends. We met at a frat party at the beginning of our senior year and hit it off. We were all standing around bitching about the horrible rap music pumping through the house. Turns out, we were all fans of Mötley Crüe, so we’d get together and drink a few beers, play cards, and listen to them.

“A year later, we ended up at this dive bar across town. You know the kind they feature in murder mystery shows where catching the killer is going to be a bitch because of all the DNA covering everything?”

I can feel myself making a horrified face, and his laughter only confirms it.

“Yeah, I know. For someone who cleaned his kitchen at least two times a day, being there was not a picnic for me. But Jameson and Walker got pulled into a billiards game, so we hung out for a while.

“Anyway, Jameson ended up with a baggie of weed. I had smoked it a few times, but never really saw the appeal. We ended up in the dingy bathroom, passing a joint like a couple of cool twenty-two-year-olds,” he says, shaking his head at the memory. “It was just the three of us in that nasty bathroom with a half-smoked joint when Numbers walked in to use the john.”

My eyes widen in shock.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Isaac at a seedy bar? I think he was in pressed khakis or some shit like that, but he was there, looking all sorts of uncomfortable. I could tell he didn’t even want to whip it out to pee, but I think he realized he was about out of options. Just as he starts to go, the alarm and damn sprinkler system went off, soaking all of us to the bones. We took off out the door, Numbers hot on our heels as he was trying to zip back up.”

A bubble of laughter spills from my lips. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he confirms. “We ran out the door and kept going until we were in an alley down the street. That’s when we really noticed we’d picked up a fourth. He was standing there, looking like he was gonna piss himself, and yelled at us for smokin’ in the boys room. The three of us just bust out laughing. It was like it was fate, considering who our favorite band was. So from that day on, Numbers was our fourth, and we haven’t looked back since.”

Shaking my head, I reply with a giggle, “That’s some story. I can’t believe you all met that way.”

He shrugs his broad, muscular shoulders. “We aren’t proud of that night, but it’s what brought us together as a group. And none of us have touched that shit since. No way were we risking anything just to get stoned.”

I continue to watch him, his entire demeanor completely relaxed, as if he were speaking to a buddy. Though, I know that’s not true. Jasper and I have never been considered friends. His smile is easy and slightly lopsided in a way I haven’t noticed before. Maybe because he’s truly comfortable for the first time.

A yawn startles me, my hand covering my mouth quickly.

“Well, I’ll let you get home. You have a big day tomorrow,” he says, pushing off the counter and standing up to his full height. Even when I rise too, he’s towering over me.

“I do. Thank you for checking on me,” I reply, another yawn catching me by surprise. I can’t believe how suddenly exhausted I am. It’s like chatting with Jasper helped me to relax for the first time all weekend.

“No problem,” he says, heading for the front door. He releases the lock and pulls the handle, letting the nippy December air blow through the entry. Jasper glances around before he meets my gaze. “Hey, this place looks great, Lyn. You’ve done a great job.”

My heart blasts into my throat like a rocket leaving the ground. Was that praise? Jasper was never one to pay compliments. “Oh, uh, thank you.”

He nods once and steps through the door. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, my throat burning with emotion. I can feel the sting of tears behind my eyelids, and I just pray they don’t make their appearance until after he’s gone. Back in school, Jasper used to feed on emotion like algae, slowly exposing and sucking the life out of you.

“Lock up,” he instructs before heading for a fancy vehicle parked in front of my business. Of course he would drive a Mercedes sports car.

I turn the lock and give the door a tug, ensuring it’s secure. I stand there and watch as he starts his car, headlights flooding the street. He doesn’t move right away, probably warming up the interior or checking his phone for messages.

When I realize I’m still standing there, watching like a stalker, I head for the kitchen and start turning off the lights. I double- and triple-check to make sure everything is in order—and yes, I ensure the fridge is still working right—before I grab my coat and make my way to the back door.

After confirming the door is locked, I cross the alley to my car. It starts easily, even though it’s cold outside, and I wait a few minutes for it to warm. As soon as it’s pumping warmth through the vents, I pull out of the small parking area and head for home. I opt to use the main street, wanting to catch one more glimpse of Sugar Rush before it’s officially opened, and am shocked when I find the car still parked in front. As I slowly drive by, Jasper pulls out onto the roadway, giving me a friendly honk as we pass.

What was he still doing there? It had been nearly ten minutes from the time he exited my business and I passed him on the street. Was he waiting that long for his car to warm up?

I’m sure that’s it.

It’s not like he’d be waiting to make sure I got going safely. That’s not like the Jasper I once knew.

Only, I’m not sure I ever really knew him at all. I saw what he wanted me to. Maybe there’s more to Jasper Kohlmann than meets the eye. Not that I’ll be getting to know him any better than I do right now. Oh, no. He was only being polite, making sure everything was all right when he saw lights on. Nothing more than a businessman checking on a neighbor.

That’s all it was.

I’m sure of it.

***

From the moment I flipped the sign to open, I’ve been hopping busy. Believe it or not, there was a small three-person line waiting on the sidewalk at six to be the first to try the newest bakery in town. I wasn’t sure whether to hug those individuals or maybe give them an unlimited supply of free pastries as a thank-you, but, fortunately for my bottom line, I did neither. I did, however, offer them a free cup of coffee with their orders and chatted with them while Daisy completed their orders.

As six rolled into seven, the customers kept coming in a steady stream, but it was the seven o’clock hour that really got us moving. I found patrons lined up to the front door as they waited patiently to place their orders. Dustin helped pull items from the case and wrap them up, while Daisy focused on the register. I was constantly running from the back to the front to refill what I could.

It was organized chaos, and I loved it.

At ten thirty, I’m elbow-deep in dough when the bell chimes over the door. There was a brief lull in customers, one we all took advantage of. Daisy was cleaning tables out front, while Dustin was taking a short break and sitting in his chair, watching me roll dough for more cookies.

I glance up and see familiar faces checking out the case. Smiling, I quickly wash my hands and head up front, meeting Daisy at the edge of the counter. “I’ll take care of them,” I tell her as I move to our newest arrivals. “Good morning.”

“Hey, Lyndee,” Mallory replies, her eyes as wide as the donuts on display. “This all looks so amazing. Congratulations.”

I beam instantly at Mallory’s compliment. Even though I’ve only met her one time, last Friday night at the restaurant, I instantly felt a kinship with her. She was friendly, smiled easily, and teased Walker and his friends good-heartedly. And Lizzie? Don’t get me started on her. The cutest little three-year-old I’ve ever met.

“Yeah, congrats on your big day. How has it gone so far?” Walker asks.

“Busy,” I reply proudly. “I’ve already gone through all the fresh bread I baked this morning, and the donuts are almost gone. Good thing it’s after typical breakfast time.”

“I want a sprinkle donut!” Lizzie cries, searching the case desperately for her selection.

When I give it a look, I see no sprinkle donuts. “Oh, no, I don’t see any.” The second the words are out of my mouth, her face falls. “But…I might have something special in back for you. Wait here, okay?”

I turn around and hightail it back to the kitchen. I know we brought out most of the donuts, but I thought we kept a few in back…just in case. I’m happy to find a half dozen cake donuts on a tray in the cooling rack. I wash my hands quickly, slip on my gloves, and grab the plain donut.

“Hey, Lizzie?” I holler, through the doorway. When she looks up with eager eyes, I ask, “Chocolate or vanilla frosting?”

“Tocklet!”

Nodding and smiling, I move back to my counter and get to work. It only takes a few seconds to decorate her special donut. I smother on the frosting and grab my pipping bag. It already has white icing in it from the name I added to a small birthday cake, so I use it to write her name around the top of the donut. Then, I add multicolored sprinkles.

Lots of them.

When it’s finished, I slip it on a plate and head up front. “One special chocolate sprinkle donut,” I announce as I slide it onto the counter.

Lizzie’s eyes widen with delight. “It says my name! My teacher taughted me my name.”

“It is your name,” I reply with a grin.

“Tank you!” she beams, reaching for the treat with two hands.

“And Walker and I will split an apple fritter,” Mallory says, reaching into her purse for her wallet.

When I glance his way, he holds up two fingers and mouths the number. Chuckling, I grab two fritters with wax paper and set them on the counter.

“An orange juice and two coffees, also,” Mallory adds, pulling a ten out and setting it on the counter.

I ring up their order, giving them two cups of coffee for free. “Six fifty-seven.”

“Keep it,” Mallory instructs, waving off her change, just as I see Walker slip a few more bills into the tip jar.

“That’s not necessary,” I reply, though I’m not sure which one I’m really talking to.

“Of course it is,” Walker argues. “We want you to succeed.”

“Stop by every once in a while and grab something for breakfast or dessert, and I’ll be sure to succeed,” I reply, my heart filled with hope. “Oh, and maybe tell your friends about us?” I add with a laugh.

“Done, but you already know all my friends,” Walker insists with a chuckle.

Just as they move to a table to enjoy their breakfast, the door opens and in walks a smiling Isaac. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” I reply with a warm smile. “What brings you in this morning?”

“One of those chocolate scones and a cup of coffee, please. Walker said he was bringing the girls over for breakfast, so I thought I’d join them,” he says, pulling a twenty from his wallet.

After I total his purchase and return his change, he drops it all in the tip jar. My eyes are ridiculously wide, which makes him chuckle. “We take care of our own,” he whispers with a wink, before turning and heading to an open seat with Walker, Mallory, and Lizzie.

Daisy takes over the front counter, waiting on the customers who come in after Isaac, when Dustin comes back up to the front. “Hey, guys,” he says the moment he spots the ones from across the street.

“Dustin,” Isaac greets, standing up and making sure my brother has enough room to get by with his walker.

“Oh, the scones are my favorite too,” my brother says as he takes one of the empty seats at the table beside them. “How’s your donut?” he asks Lizzie.

“It’s dood! How’s come you gots to walk with dat?” she asks, pointing her gooey finger toward the walker.

“Well, this is my walker,” my brother starts, but is cut off.

“Hey! Dat’s your name, Walk!” the little blonde coos across the table at the big guy.

“It is my name, yes. It’s also the name of the device that helps him walk.”

“When I was born, I didn’t get enough oxygen, so I have a disability. It means I have trouble walking and get really tired easily,” Dustin replies to the little girl.

She seems to think hard about his explanation, her eyes bouncing between my brother and his walker. “I det tired too when I wunded a wot at wecess. Will you come pway wiff me? I wike Barbies and dollies.”

“I’d love to, if your mommy and daddy say it’s okay sometime,” he replies.

“Pweeese, Daddy Walk? Can he come pway?” Little Lizzie begs the man across from her. I can see the softness in his eyes, the adoration on her sweet face.

“Sure, Lou. Maybe someday after preschool,” Walker replies, glancing over at Mallory, who just grins back.

“Daddy Walk says it’s otay,” Lizzie informs my brother. Dustin just smiles at her, which she returns, chocolate smeared across her cheeks. My heart trips over itself in my chest at the pure beauty of friendship.

The door opens again, catching our attention. Jameson walks in looking a little rough. “I’ll pay you double for the biggest coffee you have,” he mumbles to Daisy, who hurries to grab him a large cup and fills it with caffeine.

“You okay?” I ask, walking up beside him.

“Uhhh,” he groans. “Yeah, I’m fine. Late night.”

I take in his bedhead and the wrinkled shirt beneath his beat-up leather jacket and a smile breaks out across my face. “Someone’s doing the walk of shame,” I whisper-yell, barely able to keep my laughter in check.

“Zip it, Pixie,” he teases, keeping his voice low. “I don’t need them finding out.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I had you pegged in the first two seconds of walking in here. You don’t think your friends, who have known you your entire adult life, are going to pick up on the fact you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes and reeking of cigarettes and Ralph Lauren’s Romance?”

His eyes widen comically. “How do you know that?”

“I have a bottle at home,” I reply with a shrug. “It’s nice.”

“Tank!”

Jameson throws a wad of bills on the counter, pastes the biggest, brightest smile on his face, and turns around. “Lizard!” He heads over and takes a seat across from Dustin.

I can’t help but just stand and watch this small group interact with one another. They’re like a little family, one, it seems, they’ve gladly pulled my brother into the fold. Yet, as I sit here and watch them interact, I can’t help but wonder where Jasper is. Across the street in his kitchen, I’m sure. It’s where he spent every free second he had in school.

I know.

I was there with him.