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Chapter thirty-eight

Robbie

“So, I know this isn’t anybody’s favorite part, but we need to look at the schedule six months out,” Aiden says, kicking off our monthly virtual band meeting. “I need to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Shoot, boss,” Dane says, his voice coming from the small square on the bottom left of my phone screen. The reflection of the lake takes up my peripheral vision, eclipsing my sight, so I have to squint and shield my eyes in order to see all of them.

“We’ve got Atlanta the first week of February for a three-night show, followed by a two-night stint in Alabama,” he says.

“Wait, let me flip my calendar,” Dane says. He’s the only twenty-six-year-old I know who keeps a physical calendar, but it fits his personality. He’s been running both of our lives with that thing for years now.

After a minute, Aiden continues. “We’ve been invited to participate in a new music festival in St. Petersburg the week after that if you guys are interested.”

“Hold on. I need to double-check that one,” I cut in, jotting the dates down on a notepad. I know there’s an annual winter fest in Pine Falls around that time, and if things pan out with the bakery storefront, I would absolutely want to be here to help Naomi run it during that busy time.

“Seriously?” Aiden asks in surprise, proving my point for how little I’ve cared about the schedule in the past.

“Yeah. I want to make sure nothing interferes with bakery stuff,” I say.

“That’s right. Our little Robbie-poo has become a run-of-the-mill bread maker up there in small-town Minnesota,” Rylie teases.

I smirk, not at all affected by the relentless jabs that have come my way ever since I told the guys my plan to potentially invest in a bakery and settle down here.

“You’ll be singing a different tune once you visit. I’m telling you, Naomi’s blueberry pie will change your life,” I boast.

“Do you wear a chef’s hat too? Because I’m there in a heartbeat if you do,” Dane chimes in.

Aiden clears his throat. “Alright, alright. Back to business, fellas. Robbie, get back to me by the end of the week about those dates.”

“You got it.”

“The only other show I have on the schedule is a mini East Coast tour the following week,” he says. “We’ll hit Maine, Rhode Island, and Pennsylvania in one fell swoop.”

I smile to myself while I jot down the dates, knowing I have to figure out a way to get Naomi to come with me on that stretch. I know she’s never been, and she would absolutely love the vibe of the East Coast.

“That’s all I have for today’s meeting, so unless anyone else has anything to add, I’ll see you all in a few days for the next show.”

“I’m good here,” Dane says, and we all nod in agreement.

“See you,” I say. When we disconnect, the sound of their voices is instantly replaced by the soft waves of the lake lapping onto shore and a distant loon call on the other side of the lake.

The sweet smell of sugar and dough wafts from inside the house behind me, where Naomi is finishing up her orders for the day.

Yet again, I’m surprised—and relieved—at my general mood while being in Pine Falls. The heaviness from the conversation with my family the other day hasn’t lingered like I anticipated it would. Instead, I feel more hopeful than anything—content and more than happy to be here with Naomi.

I’m not rushing to fix my broken relationships, but I’m not feeling threatened and blocked off because of the fractures of them either. I’m very much in the place of ‘let’s take it one day at a time’ at this point.

The allure of whatever she’s baking inside the house pulls on me hard enough that I hop off the bench and make my way off the dock.

“What in the name of Indiana Jones are you making in here?” I ask, sliding the deck door shut behind me. In the kitchen, Naomi looks up with a smile.

“It’s going to be a sprinkle-wrapped raspberry buttercream cake,” she says proudly, showcasing her cake creation. “Isn’t it cute so far?”

“Cute is the exact word that comes to my mind.”

“It needs to cool before I can apply the frosting and sprinkles.” She places her hands on her hips to study the cake.

“Do you have anything else to bake today?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Perfect timing, because there’s something I’d like to do.”

“Oh, really?” A gleam in her eye flares as excitement shines through.

“Yup.”

“Wait, I should probably shower first.” She cringes. “I have flour everywhere.”

“That’s not necessary.” I dismiss her with a wave. “You’ll probably get sweaty.”

“Oh. Well, on second thought, maybe I am busy.” She pauses in place, cringing again.

“Ah, suck it up. It won’t be that bad. I promise.” I motion for her to follow me out the front door, which she does. When we round the front corner of the house, I step off to the side so she can see the two bicycles I have resting against the garage door.

She gasps, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. “Oh! Where did these come from?”

“I asked Toby to drop them off.” I smile smugly, feeling proud of my efforts. “He said we could borrow them for the afternoon.”

“How fun! I don’t think I’ve been on a bike since I was eleven or something.” She lifts one bike off the garage door, testing out the handlebars.

“So, I’ll go in front of you, then, not behind,” I mutter.

“Hey, I could be an excellent bicyclist for all you know,” she says pointedly.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” I wink as we climb on our bikes. We take off down her driveway, the wheels of my bike feeling rocky against the gravel.

At the end of the driveway, we turn left, cycling side by side down the street of her neighborhood.

It has a road that curves and winds for blocks on end along the shoreline, where cottages and quaint homes line the street with glimpses of the lake visible between sparse patches of oak trees.

I take it all in, appreciating the rustic beauty I’ve often taken for granted before now.

“Not so fast,” she laughs from behind me, struggling to keep up.

“Whoops.” I didn’t realize I was pulling ahead, so I slow to her pace.

“I’m still getting used to it.”

“Sorry. You’re doing great. It’s kind of like riding a bike, yeah?”

Her eye roll makes me chuckle, and I lose balance, needing to steady the steering wheel so I don’t fall.

“Come on, slowpoke.” She surges ahead to prove a point, turning down the entrance to a local biking trail that juts off the main road.

I follow behind, soaking in the fresh air and sunshine. It feels good to be out exploring and to not feel the anxiety of a possible run-in with my family. The pressure is off, in a big way, even if the question of how things will progress remains unanswered.

When the trail splits, we veer right, following where the sea of trees creates a canopy over a narrowing path.

As we bike in silence, a faint memory of biking this same trail with Steven when we were younger hits me out of nowhere.

It’s one of the only memories I have of us that isn’t tarnished with jealousy, patronizing, or ridicule.

We were too young to be anything other than playmates at that point, dare I say even friends.

We came as a family—that I know—but for some reason, only Steven and I are clear in my flashback.

The way we sped ahead of Mom and Dad to get to the next checkpoint before they shouted for us to stop and wait.

How Steven would wait for me before we raced down the hill that, if I remember correctly, is somewhere just ahead.

A twinge of sadness hits me at the reminder of how our early days as a family used to be. Then a punch of anger hits that they had to go and ruin our short-lived happy family dynamic, that they essentially cast me aside when I simply didn’t fit into their high-achieving mold.

I mentally brush off my thoughts, focusing instead on how cute Naomi looks pedaling on the slightly-too-big-for-her bike in front of me.

Life in Pine Falls with her has been nothing short of consuming this last week, and my thoughts easily turn to more pleasant things—like the way she woke me up this morning with a cup of coffee and a proposition to go for a sunrise swim to start the day, which, of course, I eagerly agreed to.

It’s been easy here with her. Comforting. Fulfilling.

Eventually, we reach a small clearing next to where the creek flows over large boulders, creating a small waterfall cascading down over the rocks.

“Let’s take a break,” she says, already hopping off her bike. I climb off my own and set it next to where she leaned hers against the wooden makeshift fence that surrounds the creek.

She leans forward, resting her forearms on the fence to catch her breath, and I come next to her as close as I can get—not crowding her, of course, but making sure my arm at least touches hers.

“So I sent our lease application to Joan,” she says, albeit a little hesitantly. “But I can still take it back if you have any regrets? If you’ve decided it’s not a good idea to be business partners after all?”

She looks at me with trepidation, a hint of the insecurity she’s worked so hard to overcome sneaking through.

“Nope, I told you…I’m all in,” I say confidently.

“Are you sure? Now’s your last chance to back out.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. Haven’t I told you that opening a bakery is my dream?” My tone comes off as playful and teasing, but the part about being sure I mean with every fiber of my being.

“Stop.” She laughs, waving a hand in my direction.

“No, I’m serious.” I twist so half my body is leaning on the fence, allowing me to face her. “I want this, Naomi. All of it. The responsibility. The bakery. The life here with you. You don’t have to question that anymore.”

I run my thumb over her cheek, then over her lips as they twist into a bashful smile.

“Okay,” she whispers, nodding, accepting it all. I can’t help but lean in to kiss where my thumb just traced, and then I slide my body behind her, placing one arm on each side, caging her in. She leans her head against my cheek as we watch the water flowing peacefully.

“I used to come here as a kid,” I tell her quietly when another image of Steven and me at this very same spot enters my mind.

She turns her head just enough to offer me a soft smile. One that says she supports me in any way I might need in these moments. A smile I’ve been grateful for every single day since I made the decision to come back to Pine Falls.

She watches me, waiting to see if I’ll continue, but I don’t feel the need to say anything else out loud. I bring my hands up to squeeze her shoulders, then I tilt my head, motioning toward our bikes.

“Are you ready?”

“Sure,” she says.

As we walk the few steps it takes to reach the bikes, I think back to the conversation with my family and their apology at the diner, the olive branch that they extended.

I act on a sudden urge by pulling my cell phone out to send a quick text to Steven. Maybe it’s time I extend a branch of my own. I press send before I have a chance to change my mind.

Robbie : I’m on a bike ride on that trail we rode back in the day. The one off Pebble Road. Thought of you.

I leave it at that. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m surprised when he answers almost immediately.

Steven : That same one has always made me think of you…and how I kicked your butt racing down that hill.

I contemplate writing a response to open a dialogue between us but decide the one message is all I’m ready for today.

Baby steps.

I slide my phone back into my pocket, climb back on my bike, and steer it toward Naomi, who’s waiting with that same supportive look on her face.