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I breathe in deep through my nose and exhale through my mouth. I need to bake. I always bake when I’m anxious. Or excited. I bake no matter what I’m feeling, to be honest. But I feel the sudden need to make something incredibly complex. Baked Alaska. Canelés de Bordeaux. I go through the recipes in my head until we reach the Thorn. It calms me.
Grace is right. It’s just a place. And I’m stronger than I was.
CHAPTER THREE
CADEN
I’m out of the shower and shrugging into jeans and a fresh tee when there’s a light knock on my door.
“Yeah?” I call, assuming it’s Daisy. But the door opens a crack and Noah’s face appears. My best friend looks exactly the same—shaggy hair, dark eyes, wry smile—except now he’s dressed in a deputy uniform. It suits him.
“Well,” Noah says, coming in and closing the door behind him. “The prodigal son returns.”
In two quick strides, I reach him and envelop him in a bone-crushing hug.
“This is a better reaction than I was expecting,” Noah says, his voice muffled by my shoulder.
I release him. “I missed you.”
Noah shoots me one of his classic sardonic looks. “No shit. You think you were fooling me with your surly distance? I’ve known you since kindergarten, dude. This is your home. I knew you’d come back.” He rubs his neck. “Didn’t think it would take five years. You’re one stubborn son of a bitch.”
A smile cracks on my face and I can feel it splinter all over my body—hairline fractures, like spiderwebs across a mirror. Some of the tension I’ve carried all these years is finally breaking.
“Who told you I’d arrived?” I ask. I was going to text him after the shower.
Noah strides across my bedroom and plants himself in the leather armchair by the window. “Maria Perez saw you on her run earlier. It’s all over town. Jake Stein wants to throw you a welcome home party at the Crooked Screw.”
Maria Perez is Charlotte’s sister—and Charlotte is Isla’s best friend. Does Isla know I’m here? I wait for Noah to mention Isla, but he doesn’t.
“You know, Jake owns the Screw now,” he says instead.
“Daisy told me. That’s great.”
And I mean it. Jake was the top bartender at Magnolia Bay’s best wine bar, and a terrific guy.
“Seriously,” Noah agrees. “About a year and a half ago, old man Sanderson moved to Florida to be closer to his grandkids and Jake took it over. But I’m not here to talk about Jake and the Screw.” Noah leans forward and I feel a thrill run through me. He’s going to tell me about Isla. He of all people must know I’m wondering about her. “I talked to the sheriff.”
My brain screeches to a halt like a record scratch. Right. The real reason I came home.
“I convinced him to keep the case active until the end of the summer. You’ve got two months. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Caden. This isn’t a case of us dropping the ball—there’s literally no ball to drop.”
I clench my jaw with renewed determination. “I’ll find something.”
“If you say so.” Noah leans back in the chair.
“Well?” I say expectantly.
“Well what?”
“Can’t I, like, look at your files?”
Noah raises one eyebrow. “No. It’s an active case, Cade. You’re a civilian. You don’t just get to look through police files.”
I hope the investigator Dad hired isn’t bound by the same rules. But if he shared his results with Dad, surely he’ll share them with me.
Noah is looking at me with a sad expression. “I didn’t get to say this in person but…I’m so sorry about your mom. I know how hard it is to lose a parent. It’s the most brutal pain imaginable.”
Noah’s parents died when he was only four. Hit by a drunk driver. He was raised by his grandfather.