Page 19 of Wake Me Up (New England Bay Sharks #5)

T his is usually my favorite time of the day because it’s quiet and the sun is just starting to peek out, lighting up the streets of downtown Portland.

A few times a week, I come into the bakery early to get things done.

On those mornings, my mom either spends the previous night with us or she comes over before I leave so she can help get the kids up and ready.

Today, I’m not feeling the peace like I normally would, working by myself before the rest of the city wakes up. Today, I feel like a ton of bricks is on my shoulders, and one wrong move, I’ll be crushed.

A pull at the door makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Portland has its fair share of roughness, and unfortunately, the bakery has been robbed multiple times.

Peering around the corner from out back, I catch sight of Tripp standing by the locked door. He’s left me alone since yesterday morning—when he showed up with treats for me and my daughter and offered to pay for her surgery, and then I demanded he leave.

I hold my hand up so he knows I see him before I rush to the sink to wash the dough from my hands.

The truth is, I could never accept a gift that big. I’d rather go in debt than take money from someone else. Especially someone who isn’t family.

I’m sure if I asked Jamie’s parents and my mom and dad, they’d all chip in, but I haven’t told anyone yet because I’m embarrassed. I should be able to provide for my daughter on my own. Everyone always tells me I’m so strong and so tough, but right now, I don’t feel it.

Wiping my hands on my apron, I walk to the door and unlock it. Once he’s inside, I don’t bother locking it again because we open in ten minutes anyway.

“Hi,” he says when I turn to face him .

He isn’t smiling. Then again, he usually doesn’t, but his eyes are kind, and his expression is soft.

“Hi,” I whisper, looking up at him.

This feeling I have when he’s around, I’ll never understand it. It’s not the way I felt when I first saw Jamie. It’s … different. But still, it makes me feel guilty because when this feeling happens, my heart races.

“Where’s your head at, Freya?” he asks, keeping his deep voice low and gentle. “How are you feeling?”

For a moment, I just stare at him. I’ve kept everything in for days now, but I’m hardly sleeping, and I haven’t had an appetite. Truthfully, I’m falling apart.

And I don’t have the one person here to help me through this. My husband would know what to say or what to do. He’d have the answers.

My lip trembles. I can’t even come up with a word to answer him, and as if he sees it instantly, he takes a few large steps to me and looks down.

“Can I give you a hug?” he whispers. “Please?”

Everything inside of me is telling me to say no. To back away from this man and ask him to leave. There’s only one man who is allowed to help me through times like this, and he’s dead. But as I stand there, frozen, without answering … slowly, Tripp wraps his arms around my body and holds me tight.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers against my hair. “I promise.”

Huge, pathetic tears well in my eyes. For a minute—or five—I just stand here in his arms and let myself feel the calming effect he brings as my eyes flutter shut. But when a car horn outside starts sounding and my eyes snap open, I quickly back away from his touch and wipe my eyes with my sleeve.

“I can’t do this,” I say with a sniffle. “My kid needs surgery, and you’re … you’re fucking everywhere, Tripp. You keep showing up and trying to help.” I shake my head, crying harder. “I need you to stop. Just stop!”

I start to walk back and forth in an attempt to calm myself down because my heart is beating so damn fast that I can hardly breathe.

He just wants to help. So, why can’t I let him?

Freya walks back and forth, pacing in the small bakery. The panic in her petite body is palpable, and for a woman who is fiercely independent and incredibly strong, it’s obvious she’s about to break.

“Marry me.” I blurt the two words out and watch the confusion fill Freya’s face.

I know I need to explain more. Aside from the lessons I’ve been giving her son, she and I haven’t spent much time together.

“I have good health insurance,” I say quickly, explaining my reason for suggesting something so bold.

I act like that’s the only reason why I’d want to get closer to her, which is bullshit, but she’s in trouble, and this will help.

“Great health insurance actually. Marry me, and Aviana will get the coverage she needs for the surgery. She can get all the medications and procedures to get her better.”

That stops her pacing, and after she stares at me in complete disbelief for a moment, her shoulders suddenly shudder with uncontrollable laughter.

“You’re hilarious, Tripp Talmage,” she says, shaking her head.

She grabs a rag from the table, gives the wood a few sprays of cleaner, and starts wiping down the tables in the bakery. “You ought to be a comedian, really.”

I take a few steps closer, stopping just in front of the table she’s wiping. Her movements halt, and her big brown eyes slowly lift to mine.

“I’m not trying to be funny, Freya,” I say, my deep voice echoing through the room. “I want to help you. And your daughter. That’s all.”

Unblinkingly, her wide eyes burn into mine. “Tripp,” she whispers, “you could get in trouble. Big trouble. We both could.” She swallows. “Forget it. I’ll figure something out.”

The door opens, and the bell attached to the top rings, alerting us that we aren’t alone.

Before turning away from her, I lean down closer. “You have my number. The ball’s in your court now.”

Gradually, I turn around and head toward the door, passing an older man as he makes his way toward the counter .

The simple truth is, I do want to help her and her daughter. Her daughter deserves to get the treatment she needs to feel better—to be a normal kid again. She, along with her two older brothers, lost their father years ago. They’ve been through enough. So, I do want to help them—that’s true.

But, sometimes, the truth isn’t so cut and dried because the thing is …

deep down, I’ve had a thing for the girl’s mother since the first time I saw her at the arena.

And every time I’ve seen her with her kids or spent time with her, my fondness only grows.

But she lost her husband tragically, and the last thing she wants is another man in her life—aside from her two sons.

So, being her husband for a while?

Yeah, that sounds like it would be time well spent.