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Kia’s candy corn and rice paper crepes sizzled.

She smelled sugar burning. The Mega Eats representative made a shooing gesture at her.

This was supposed to be a done deal. She should be taking selfies with the board.

She should be live streaming the birth of Taste the Love Land.

She stared at Sullivan. A whirlwind of emotions swept through Kia.

Her breath quickened. Her heart raced. She was wide-eyed with disbelief.

Sullivan was here! But Sullivan’s face was like a landscape in an ice storm, breaking apart in slow motion.

Kia had dreamed of meeting Sullivan again a thousand times.

Sitting on the front steps of Old Girl—named for her vintage charm.

And no matter how many years passed, something connected Kia and Sullivan.

They understood the tension that had filled the room that last night at school.

Sullivan would embrace Kia. I’ve always wanted you.

Kia would clutch her and whisper, I missed you .

And it was because she missed Sullivan that she hadn’t looked her up for years.

What if real Sullivan ruined the fantasy?

What if real Sullivan posted dumb memes and was a personal chef for some bad politician?

But now Kia didn’t need to see Sullivan’s vita to see the same person she’d known in school, but reality was still ruining the fantasy, because Sullivan was doubled over in her chair, her face in her hands.

Around them, the crowd protested.

“We don’t want Mega Eats!”

The Mega Eats reps strutted through the crowd handing out flyers with a Mega Eats complex pictured on the front.

The board chair conferred with one of the board members.

The audience whispered live stream and her fault .

The moment lasted. Kia was supposed to be cooking.

Deja was supposed to be passing out crepes.

Kia had never felt so exposed. She couldn’t just slink away without a word.

She didn’t know how to fight with the Mega Eats representative.

She wanted to run down the aisle and throw herself at Sullivan’s feet.

I didn’t mean for this to happen. Instead she just stood in front of her cooking station, like a kid getting booed at a school talent show.

“Are you okay?” Deja appeared at her side.

Of course she wasn’t okay.

“Sullivan, I’m sorry,” Kia whispered.

“You know her?” Deja asked under her breath.

“I did.”

“Excuse me,” the board chair said to the crowd. “Listen up. I’m very sorry. Clause 14b does say legally we are required to take the highest bid.”

“The board will have to vote. I’m sorry. We’re here to make sure the association follows the charter rules. In this case, we don’t get to decide based on what we want.”

Sullivan rose.

“I can’t believe you’d let this happen.” Her voice landed just below a yell. Then she stalked out of the room with the stride of a powerful warrior who had just lost the war.

Kia didn’t see the vote. She was already racing down the aisle toward the door Sullivan had slammed behind her.

“Wait!” Kia’s steps pounded hard enough to rattle the glass cases of grange ephemera on the walls.

Sullivan had pulled up short at the EMERGENCY EXIT ALARM WILL SOUND sign on the door at the end of the hall.

“Sullivan.” Kia put one hand on Sullivan’s back.

Sullivan pulled away as though Kia had touched her with a hot pan.

Tears streamed down Sullivan’s face. She was the same woman Kia remembered, but horror and grief replaced her cocky grin.

This was wrong. Sullivan never lost her cool.

Yes, she barked orders in the kitchen when the students cooked together, with Sullivan playing the role of expeditor, but that was to be heard over the kitchen noise, not because she was distressed.

The closest Sullivan got to upset was muttering comically hyperbolic threats to stop her Mornay sauce from splitting.

Kia felt a wave of something she’d never felt for Sullivan: protectiveness. Sullivan had never needed protection or comfort. Had she? She did now. She needed someone to scoop her whole body into their arms and rock her and say, It’s going to be okay .

“Say something. Look at me,” Kia begged. “Are you okay?”

The question was as dumb now as when Deja asked her.

“How can you ask?” Sullivan stumbled backward, paused at the ALARM WILL SOUND sign on the door, and then pushed it open.

A dull siren throbbed around them.

Sullivan broke into a run, heading straight for a black wall of trees, her feet splashing through puddles. It looked dangerous. In her distress Sullivan was running toward… whatever horrors lurked in that haunted wilderness. If she got hurt, it’d be all Kia’s fault.

“Wait!”

Kia followed Sullivan. The rain had intensified.

The clouds blotted out the moon and absorbed the ambient city light.

Entering the forest felt like racing into a cave.

Sullivan had almost disappeared into the darkness when Kia entered the forest, her vision going black as she stepped from the parking lot lights into the damp forest.

“Sullivan, please.” Kia fumbled for her cell phone flashlight.

Sullivan stopped and turned, shielding her eyes.

“Put that thing down. We’re not in a mine.”

Kia pocketed the light.

“Did you know I was here?” Sullivan asked.

“Of course not.”

“So you’re doing all this and you didn’t even do your research, did you?” Raindrops and tears streaked Sullivan’s face. “You didn’t google the Bois?”

Gretchen had handled everything. She’d told Kia she would never get a deal like this again, and the investors would only be interested for a minute.

The sponsors were clamoring for new content.

And Kia had been excited to tell Me’shell she could pack up her life and start the drive to Portland because Kia’s dream of a beautiful food pod where small businesses fed love to the community was coming true.

Except it wasn’t. And she had done something terrible to Alice Sullivan.

Sullivan, who had inspired her. Made her laugh.

Filled her with lust. Sullivan, who had been the focus of her life the whole time they were in school, some of the happiest days of her life.

Kia had made Sullivan cry. She’d never made anyone cry, and now Sullivan looked so broken.

“It happened so fast. I didn’t know you were here.”

“That’s my house.” Sullivan pointed into the darkness.

“And that’s my restaurant. And this is the forest I grew up in.

And Mega Eats is going to strip every inch.

They’ll destroy this place. Birds can migrate because they land in urban green spaces.

Rain fills up the water table because it can get into the ground here.

Beautiful little creatures live in every part of this forest. And now all that’ll be left will be a burial ground of plastic fucking forks. ”

In another context the hyperbole would have been funny. It wasn’t funny now. Sullivan was trying to pull herself together. The streaks of tears on her cheeks and her sudden, brittle arrogance wrenched Kia’s heart.

“Mega Eats should never be allowed to do that,” Kia whispered.

“And before Mega Eats was going to strip this place, you were.”

“Taste the Love was different.” Suddenly it mattered that Sullivan understood that.

“It was going to be a place for people to belong. I’m sorry Mega Eats came in.

I’m sorry I live streamed.” She’d ruined everything.

“I am so sorry.” Kia remembered all those nights teasing each other in the kitchen, pushing each other to do better, teaching each other.

And those kisses. She’d fucked up everything.

She couldn’t walk away with Sullivan thinking she was as bad as Mega Eats.

She needed Sullivan to see the beautiful thing she’d tried to build.

“I’ve been to thirty-eight states.” I missed you. Kia wanted to grab Sullivan’s hands or throw her arms around her. “Every single place I’ve been, there’s been mom-and-pop restaurants getting run out of business because some developer decides to change everything. I want—”

Sullivan cut her off.

“Fuck, Kia.” Sullivan scrubbed her hands over her face. “What do you think you were going to do to me ?” She gave a little snort as though this confirmed some ugly truth she’d accepted with disgust. “Food trucks.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I… I didn’t mean… I didn’t know. Please, Sullivan, don’t hate me.” Kia heard how pathetic the words sounded as soon as they left her mouth.

“I don’t hate you.” The way she said hate suggested a technicality.

Based on the fine print, I don’t exactly hate you.

Hate adjacent. “You’re an entrepreneur whose business deal failed.

” Sullivan raked her hand through her curls, the bitter version of a gesture Kia had admired so many times. “My life is collateral damage.”

With that, Sullivan stepped off the path, walking without a light, the underbrush parting for her. She kept her head up, although the rain was still coming through the trees. Eventually, Kia saw the spark of a porch light, then a glimmer of a barely visible window. And then the light went out.