Page 2

Chapter two

Naomi

I barely make it all the way inside to my couch before collapsing onto it in a heaping pile of misery, self-loathing, and pity.

So much for returning from the trade show on a high, like I’d hoped I would, enthusiastically ready to move forward with starting my own baking business.

I don’t see that happening anymore—at least not anytime soon.

My purse that I dropped next to the couch starts ringing with an incoming text message notification.

I fish it out and see a message from Robbie, my longtime friend from high school.

A message from him can only mean one thing—he must be back in town.

That’s the only time he ever reaches out, and I already know what it’s going to say before I even read it.

Robbie: Swinging through town for a couple days. You up? Can I crash on your couch?

I glance at my watch and shake my head with an amused huff.

Ten o’clock at night.

Like clockwork, he never fails. Every single time he rolls back through town, I always get a last-minute, late-hour message looking for a place to stay.

He’s far too nonchalant to ever seem concerned with the fact that I might be busy or could even have company.

He’s lucky I have a soft spot for him. Although we only talk sporadically these days, our bond from high school—that was strengthened through late-night cliff diving, secret sharing over campfires, and being a source of comfort to each other during breakups—has remained strong.

It’s not even a question I need to consider—the answer is always yes for him.

Naomi: Door’s unlocked.

I toss my phone on the floor and bury my eyes in the crook of my elbow, not bothering to get up to watch for him. The creak of the front door opening less than five minutes later brings the faintest of amused smiles to my lips.

He must have been close by.

I shift up to sit as he comes barreling through the door, his backpack falling loosely off his shoulder as he comes to a stop.

As always, he’s a disheveled mess with an aura of chaos and whim whirling around him.

He comes in as chaotically and as swiftly as I know he’ll eventually leave.

Robbie has a habit of coming and going with the wind, never staying long enough to do much more than whatever simple task brought him here and to occupy my couch for a night or two.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” He immediately stops in his tracks, zeroing in on what I’m sure is my mess of a face.

My brows feel like they may be permanently stuck in a frown from here on out, and my mascara feels sticky at the corners of my eyes.

His forehead tightens with concern, the faint line between his green eyes growing deeper.

He runs a hand through his thick, unruly brown locks, keeping his worried gaze intently on mine.

“Nothing.” I dramatically wrap a knit blanket over my shoulders as he quickly comes to my side of the couch. “And everything. I’m giving myself one solid hour for a pity party. Want to join?”

“Always,” he responds instantly. “Mind clueing me in as to why, though?”

He slides onto the couch and rests his fingertips against the outside of my arm, a level of comfort and familiarity settling between us.

I’m instantly glad he came home tonight.

Robbie is another layer of familiar comfort for me.

I might not see—or hear—from him for months at a time between his gigs, but when he does come home, there’s never any doubt that we’ll fall right back into the easy friendship we’ve always had. I’ve always been able to count on that.

Am I a fool for letting him breeze in and out of my life, taking advantage of me and my couch, when he knows I’ll rearrange my entire life and plans for him when he decides to drop in?

Probably. But I’m loyal to a fault. Truthfully, he could ask for anything, and I’d give it to him.

If I’m a fool, at least I’m a hospitable one.

“Are you ready for this story?” I clear my throat as he nods, then I fill him in on everything that happened at the airport.

“That son of a…” His eyes grow dark with rage, his body stiffening in a protective stance. “Did the police catch him? Are you okay?”

“Not that I know of. The officer said he’ll call with any updates.” I tuck a blonde curl behind my ear to clear it away from my face. “And yes, I’m fine. My spirit is a little bruised, but nothing a little tequila can’t fix, right?” I give him a timid smirk.

“Well, that’s a winning attitude.” He huffs, though his concern lingers.

I push myself off the couch and cross the room to the kitchen. “Do you want a glass?”

“Sure. You got any of that fancy stuff left?”

“Yup.” I pull out the bottle of expensive tequila I’ve been saving to finish with him.

“Sweet. Fill ‘em up tall. You’ll forget about that loser in no time—I can’t believe that happened to you,” he laments.

“Want to know what’s even worse? Right before he took my wallet…I was hoping he was about to ask me out,” I admit, dropping back onto the couch.

He thins his lips and pushes them together, a knowing look on his face. “Mm-hmm. Was he a slow-burn, friends-first kind of situation? Or was he hot and heavy from the get-go?”

I nudge his shoulder with a begrudged laugh. I’m used to his teasing when it comes to my daydreams. He’s well aware of my tendencies, as I’ve processed my thoughts aloud to him many times over the years. In fact, one might say he enjoys feeding into them.

My laughter gradually fades, and his eyes soften while he waits patiently for me to answer.

“He was hot and heavy,” I finally admit through a mumble.

“Figures,” he says seriously. “I really am sorry. What a bummer of a day.”

I shrug sadly. “What can you do? Anyway, enough about me and my pathetic life. Where’d you blow in from this time?”

He takes a sip, then dangles the cup from his hand resting on the back of the couch. “We just finished a gig in Fargo. We were in South Dakota before that for a four-day music festival.”

Robbie’s been traveling the country playing bass guitar with his band, Copper Snake, for the better part of two years now.

He’s one of only a few from our graduating high school class that actually left our small town and went on to live a life I only dream about.

He’s constantly off traipsing from one city to the next, one escapade after another.

“That sounds like fun.” I take a sip from my own glass, letting it burn my throat on the way down to distract me from a twinge of jealousy.

“I’m telling you, you gotta come with me one of these times. You’d love it. Besides, nothing attracts the groupies more than having a pretty woman following me around.” He wiggles his eyebrows. I laugh at his antics, but the culmination of today’s events start to make me feel weary.

“Yeah, someday,” I answer softly. My eyes start to feel heavy, from both exhaustion from the day and the warm buzz of tequila.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, the crease deepening again.

“Yeah.” I give him the most convincing smile I can muster before climbing off the couch to dispose of our glasses. “I am kind of tired, though. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Alright.” He yawns as if suddenly realizing his own exhaustion too. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

“See you in the morning. Goodnight, Robbie,” I tell him, grabbing the wool blanket from my basket in the corner of the room and tossing it to him as he stretches his legs out.

“Night, Naomi,” he says sleepily, already half-asleep on my couch.