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She sat on the other side of the cab, not even close to the way we’d been driving lately, all cuddled up together. Hell, I missed her, and she was feet away. We needed to talk, and I desperately wanted to get her out of her own thoughts.

Her phone was in her hand, and she was scrolling through the mountain of notifications from angry customers, wondering what had happened. I got a glimpse of some of them. They weren’t pretty. People could be cruel in the heat of the moment.

“Why don’t you leave that for now?” I asked gently.

“What good will it do? Not like the messages are going to go away.”

“No. But I’ve always found messages like those are more easily dealt with after a good night’s sleep.”

She let out a shaky sigh but put the phone back into the pocket of her coat. Her house was a welcome sight. Here, I knew she felt the most safe, and I hoped she would let down her guard with me. I didn’t like to see her so shaken.

To someone else, they might look at her and say she was overreacting, like she’d said. But I looked at her and saw a woman who’d watched her identity crack in two and wonder what she’d done to make it happen. It didn’t matter if it was an accident; the edict was the same.

I followed her into the house and watched her hang up her coat, absently putting water on for tea like it was second nature. “Thank you for driving me home.”

“That’s it?”

She forced a smile. “You don’t have to be here for this. It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Letting out a breath, I took off my coat. “Lena.”

“I don’t—” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Like what? As human? As someone who’s hurting?”

She shook her head.

I walked over to her and reached past her to turn off the kettle. This was going to take longer than it took to boil water, and I wasn’t going to be interrupted by a whistle. “You and I are new together, but we’ve still known each other for a long time. If you think me seeing you like this will change how I look at you, or make me not want to be with you, you’re wrong.”

“Jude.”

“You’re wrong,” I said firmly, pulling her into my arms. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf, and it was only seconds before she burst.

The tears were silent at first because she was still trying to hide. But when I picked her up, she let go. I hated that she was crying, and I hated that she was in pain. But I loved how I could envelop her and make sure she knew I wasn’t going anywhere and I would do what I could to shield her while she took the time she needed.

“I feel so stupid.”

“Why?”

I sat with her on the couch, and she looked at me, trying to steady herself and failing. She swiped angrily at the tears. “Because I care so much. I know I shouldn’t put so much stock in what people think of me, but I do. I’m the person who makes people feel better. They come to Deja Brew and they get a kick of happiness, and it makes their day.

“Now what? Now I’m the woman who ruined everyone’s Thanksgiving and baked bad cookies for innocent senior citizens. Everyone knows I’m good at this. And if I’m not, then I have no idea what to do, Jude. I don’t even know who I am if I’m not this.”

I pulled her close so she was lying across my chest, and I ran my fingers through her hair. She had her face pressed into my shirt, but she was already breathing easier. All of that needed to come out, and badly.

“We’re going to figure it out.”

“How?” She sounded miserable.

“Starting tomorrow, we close the bakery. I’ll help you tear it apart and look through everything. We’ll call whoever we need to call to get your machines checked and all of your ingredients. And when everything’s okay again, you’ll reopen. I guarantee Evie will help, and I’ll be the guinea pig for anything you make.

“I’d help with the baking itself, but I don’t think you want to see me bake.”

At least the thought drew out a smile. “You’d look handsome covered in flour.”

“Noted.”

Lena’s eyes were closed. “You really think it’s going to be okay?”