Icing, page 26
“I love you, Greyson.”
Before I left, I wrote her a note and left it on the coffeemaker so she’d find it before she showered. I grabbed the spare key she kept in the kitchen so I could deadbolt the front door. After Jace’s surprise appearance, I wasn’t super comfortable leaving her alone. The way he skulked around in all black made it seem like he had stayed hidden for a reason. It had crossed my mind she could potentially be in danger if Trevor’s undercover work went south and his true identity was figured out, but I tried not to let that thought stay in the forefront for long and I most definitely did not mention it to Greyson. She didn’t need anything else to worry about.
When I got home and changed, I went to the closet to pull out the pillows I’d put away. After she told me what happened to her I tried to sleep like she did. I wanted to get used to the idea of not having pillows on the bed for when she was ready to spend the night with me. I didn’t realize how necessary they were to my comfort, and I couldn’t imagine going to bed night after night, year after year, with no cushion under my head. It was no wonder she barely slept since it was in no way comfortable. But if I had to get rid of every pillow in my house to get her to spend the night there, it was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make.
I fell into bed and closed my eyes, not opening them until the next morning. I came downstairs to find Asher in the living room flipping channels.
“Morning,” I yawned on my way past. I needed coffee in a bad way.
“Bring me a cup of coffee with some of that bitch creamer, would you?”
I called him a derogatory term before I made his coffee how he liked it, handing it over when I came to the living room.
“Eddie’s interview is about to start.” Asher nodded at the television, where I saw Greyson’s friend. He was surrounded by his paintings, dressed in a white linen suit with a pink and yellow tie-dyed shirt underneath. He had leather sandals on his feet, with his long gray hair tied on top of his head in a knot. He was the epitome of an eccentric artist, and I grinned and flopped onto the couch. Greyson was so proud when he’d told her about the interview, and bummed she was going to be at work and miss it. I would bet my career she was in her office, live streaming it and taking a break with the baking.
“So, tell us the story of Ed Julson,” the host started. Eddie grinned and leaned back against the couch as he stretched his legs and crossed his feet at the ankles.
“My life really only began six years ago. Like most stories, it all started with a woman.”
“Don’t they all,” the co-host interjected. Asher snorted, and I gave him the finger as I increased the volume.
“I was homeless, and one day this angel appeared. She handed me a check and asked if I wanted a job,” Eddie paused, his eyes full of love and memories. “You know that feeling, that flash you get in a moment, when you know everything is going to be alright? That was mine.”
“How did that happen? A random woman saving your life?”
“Well, she wasn’t random. I’d been on the streets for years before that day. Always getting myself arrested in the winter so I could at least be inside for a while. Warm up and get some food. The police knew me, and they knew I was harmless. It got to a point they just put me on a bench, gave me a sandwich, and let me go.
“One night, this rookie cop came in with a very surly teenager. You could tell from the body language they were family. I knew him a little, he brought me in a few times. Seemed like a good kid. He plopped her down next to me and told her not to move until his shift was over. Turns out, she was at a party she shouldn’t have been at and big brother was the officer who got called to break it up. Ooowee was she nervous! We got to talking and realized we’d both been through a lot, in different ways. She had all the money in the world but was drowning in sadness. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and the smile on my face.”
Asher set down his coffee and I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, completely enraptured. Asher looked over and pointed at the television.
“Is he talking about—"
“Shut up, I don’t want to miss anything.”
“The next day I was at the camp I set up in, and a police car pulls up. Nothing too strange there, but out pops my new friend. This little girl with these big blue eyes, dragging bags of stuff over to me. She said she couldn’t stop thinking about our talk and hated the idea of me cold and hungry. She had brought me a winter coat, a blanket, some cash, and some cupcakes. Her own recipe, that she’d named after me. Can you imagine? No one had ever cared about me like that.”
“Holy shit,” I sat back as Eddie’s words confirmed what Asher and I had both suspected.
“When she left, she hugged me and told me she’d really like to keep in touch. We did, but then she went off to college and while I didn’t forget about her, life went on. Then one day, she’s back. Grown up and owning her own business! She handed me a check that was enough to get an apartment, and I started cleaning her bakery that very day. A month later I painted a little mural on the wall at her place, and since her baking is the best around, those little wings got a lot of eyes on them. She had people asking who painted them. Asking about me,” he paused as a sheepish grin overtook over his weathered face. “She took orders for custom paintings before she even talked to me, the little sneak. Sat me down and said she didn’t want me cleaning her bakery anymore. I thought I’d done something wrong. But she said I had a talent that needed to be shared, and she wouldn’t let me squander it cleaning for her. I told her she could go ahead and close her mouth, because nothing would ever stop me from repaying the huge debt I owed her for saving my life. But she’s stubborn as a mule and said she wouldn’t allow it. Too bad for her, I already had a key and just kept showing up every night. She finally realized I’m more stubborn than she is, and she wasn’t getting rid of me that easily. Bing, bang, boom I’ve got an online shop, a spot at the art fair, and enough money to live comfortably. All because a sad little girl got caught at a house party.”
Asher turned with a look of shock. “Did you know about this?”
“No. I mean, I knew she gave him a job when he was down on his luck, but that’s all she ever said. I can’t believe this.” I shook my head. “Actually, I can. The broken will always love harder than most. She saved someone else because she didn’t feel like she could save herself.”
I turned back to the interview and became emotional at Eddie’s next words.
“That girl is like a daughter to me. She saved my life with her kindness and I get to live my dream one hundred percent because of her. I hope she knows I love her with my whole heart. Forever and ever.”
Asher hopped up when the interview was over and took his cup to the kitchen. He patted my cheek on his way back by.
“That lady of yours is something pretty special. But you already knew that. Keep making sure she realizes it, too.”
“I’m trying, man. I’m trying.”
CHAPTER 35
Greyson
There hadn’t been a break in customers since we opened the doors, but that wasn’t unusual for Black Friday. People got tired after ravaging store shelves and trampling their fellow man and wanted to refresh with sugar and caffeine.
I’d woken up in bed, emotionally exhausted from the up and down of the day before. I was half asleep when I padded into the kitchen to get coffee and found a note from Gavin. I wasn’t awake enough to recall the fact I’d fallen asleep on him, exactly a year since the last time. I spilled coffee all over the counter as I read his words, keeping my finger on the dispenser button long after the mug was full. I was in tears by the time I finished cleaning my coffee mess, and I clutched his note in my fist while I got ready for work. It came with me to Icing, folded and tucked into the back pocket of my jeans next to Trevor’s. Two notes from the two men in my life.
I was grateful for the quiet in the kitchen when I measured out ingredients for a peppermint mocha cupcake. My thoughts raced as I sifted flour with espresso powder and tried to recall the moment I fell asleep. One second, I watched Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye dressed up like ladies dancing around with blue feathers, and the next I’m in my bed tucked in tight with my stuffed pig under my arm. There was no memory of fighting off sleep, no glimmer of being carried from the couch to the bed. I was reeling from those implications, although I shouldn’t have been shocked at all. Gavin was my safe place, my smooth landing after a bumpy flight. There was no reason, besides past fear, I should have been surprised.
He could have stayed, but he was respectful enough not to since it wasn’t offered. Just because I’d fallen asleep on him didn’t mean I was ready to sleep with him, and he would wait for an invitation before he made that move. If I could get past my worry of disturbing him, I’d suggest we give it a try. But I couldn’t quiet the thought that no matter what he said, once he witnessed what happened in the dark of the night, he’d bail. It was a lot to handle, especially for someone who had an incredibly demanding and physically taxing job that required regular, solid rest. He wouldn’t get that if he was in a bed with me, and the first game his performance dropped because of exhaustion I’d blame myself and shut down.
“Grey, your in-laws are here,” Jemma yelled obnoxiously through the door. I really liked the sound of that. Being part of a big family was something I hadn’t realized I wanted until I’d gotten a taste of theirs.
When I pushed through the doors and entered the bakery, I motioned them to the Consultations counter so they could bypass the insane line of people ahead of them. They ordered one of everything in the case and told me they’d promised Gavin they’d bring him a cupcake when he returned home from practice, so I packed an extra lemon one and added a sugar dipped strawberry just for him.
They had just left when Donovan alerted me to first-time customers. The couple that met me at the consultation counter were full of smiles in their matching plaid shirts and puffer vests.
“Hi there! Welcome to Icing!”
The woman beamed at me from under her husband’s arm.
“This is such a cute place! I love those wings!”
My gaze strayed to the wall, and my heart tugged in wanting to get back to my office, where I could pull up a repeat of Eddie’s interview. I slid a card across the counter.
“The artist always loves new customers,” I said. “If you’re interested, here’s his info.”
She looked at the card and then at her husband, as she tapped it against her chin.
“You know, this is the same artist that did the piece in Marshall and Siobhan’s house. The cross? I remember the name,” she winked at me. “I got up close and personal to check out the signature.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickled for a reason I couldn’t pinpoint, and I fought the urge to snatch the card back and protect Eddie’s name. I did not like these people. I wanted them out.
“Um, so what can I help you with? Donovan said you haven’t been in before. What are you in the mood for?”
The man smiled, perfectly innocently, but my stomach turned anyway.
“We’re from Indiana. Just came into the city for some business. We’re having dinner with our new neighbors tonight, and noticed a magnet for this place on their fridge. Figured they must like it, so thought we would stop in since we were in town.”
“That’s awesome,” I replied enthusiastically. “Are there any particular flavors you’re looking for?”
I battled within myself to stay focused while simultaneously wanting to get them out of the shop as fast as possible. Ten minutes later, they were bundled down with a variety of cookies and cupcakes, and I stopped at Donovan’s side as they exited.
“Were they … off?”
“Meaning what?” he asked, as they climbed into the back of a waiting Range Rover.
“I don’t know. Just a weird vibe.”
“Aside from their matching suburban soccer parent outfits and unnervingly white teeth, they seemed fine to me,” Donovan shrugged. I gave it a final thought and pushed through the kitchen door as the start of a migraine flared behind my left eye, and I pressed two fingers against my eye socket.
Thirty minutes later, I was nauseous and miserable. I grabbed my purse and headed out the back door after alerting my staff I was taking the rest of the day. I debated driving to Gavin’s house to ride out the headache, but if it became a multiple day situation, I would need to get rest. When I got home, I shot him a text message that simply said “Migraine. Will text later.”
I silenced my phone, grabbed an ice pack, and fell into bed. After the ice was positioned against the back of my neck, I closed my eyes. I attempted to push away the uneasiness that had settled in the back of my mind.
It was just exhaustion.
Right.
CHAPTER 36
Gavin
“Don’t Get Your Snow Off the Street. Buy From Your Office Dealer, Like a Civilized Adult … but seriously. Don’t Do Drugs.”
I read the caption from Biscuits in the Baskets’ latest post. They had become focused on more than Chicago hockey, and now covered the city in general.
“Are they for real?” I asked with a shake of my head.
Asher set a platter of garlic bread on the table as Delaney shredded parmesan into the salad bowl.
“The story is valid and actually well written,” Mila argued. Of course, she had spent two hands full of nights with Jay Montgomery and had noticeably started defending Biscuits. “It’s just the headline that could use some work.”
“You think?” Cohen pulled the lasagna out of the oven as Greyson dumped fettuccine noodles into the strainer in the sink. “They make it sound like a joke.”
The news had been ablaze with coverage of the recent spike in overdoses around the city. It didn’t seem to matter what drug, either. The deaths were spread across all types, from pills to heroin, and recent stories hinted at the inclusion of fentanyl in known street drugs.
“Can we please talk about something else?” Greyson spoke for the first time, her voice carrying across the room as she tossed the noodles into a bubbling pot of homemade alfredo sauce.
The shelter she provided baked goods to, and where Eddie had frequented when he was on the streets, had been hit particularly hard by deaths of regular visitors. Almost every day, she had been in tears after Eddie left with the boxes. Because he would come bearing bad news, another soul lost to the opioid crisis. Earlier in the week, someone had collapsed on the sidewalk one door down from Icing. Other tenants on the block were pissed about the optics. Greyson was heartbroken for the person who had fallen into drugs, and ultimately lost their life. She did the only thing she knew how to do and created a special for opioid awareness. A simple vanilla cupcake with a purple fondant ribbon, she donated one hundred percent of the profits to the department of public health and the shelters that passed out drug testing strips.
Her mood had been off since, and no amount of distraction in the way of orgasms had gotten her balanced. Add in the constant worry about Trevor, and she was one minor inconvenience away from a full mental collapse.
“I’m sorry, Lemon Drop. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I murmured, as I pressed a kiss against her temple. Greyson gave a slight shake of her head.
“No need to apologize. I just … can’t.”
Asher walked up to the stove and replaced the tongs in her hand with a glass of wine.
“Women, retire to the table and cocktail before dinner. The men folk will finish in the kitchen and serve you like the queens you are.”
Delaney gagged good naturedly.
“How do you even walk through all that bullshit?”
“I've got tall boots,” he winked. Greyson rolled her eyes and laughed, and a piece of me relaxed.
After dinner, we moved to my basement theater. Mila and Cohen argued over which movie to watch while Delaney and Asher fought over the ‘good’ seat in the corner of the room. Greyson went to my room to change, and the chime of the doorbell floated down the stairs.
I hopped up them and turned on the hall light, pulling in a breath as I peered out the window.
“What the fuck,” I muttered, then pulled open the door “Uh, hi. Can I help you?”
My neighbors smiled back at me, seemingly oblivious to how strange it was for them to show up at my doorstep at nine o’clock at night. Considering we had never officially met.
“Hiya! Is your girlfriend here?” One of the matching set of redheads asked cheerfully, looking around me into the house. I blocked her view, and folded my arms across my chest as Greyson’s warmth pressed against my back.
“Gavin, who is it?” Greyson’s head came around me as the women on the porch lit up at the sight of her.
“Oh, she is here! Fecking brilliant! Do you know how to make Porter Cake? We need help.”
I watched Greyson’s expression go from guarded, to confused, to intrigued in a matter of seconds. The women on my porch waited for a response as we both stared at them like they were from another planet.
“Uh, I do … it’s pretty simple … but, and I mean this in the nicest way possible … who are you?”
“Oh, duh!” The shorter one smacked a hand against her forehead. “I’m Vanessa O’Malley, and this is my cousin Kayleigh. We’ve meant to come introduce ourselves like a million times, but it’s a little weird to just knock on the door of an NHL player.”
I raised a brow as my arms fell from the closed off pose they’d been in, and I offered a hand to shake.
“It’s nice to officially meet you. I’m Gavin, this is Greyson,” I paused. “But it seems like you already knew that.”
Kayleigh guffawed as she pumped my hand and looked at Greyson.
“Guilty. Your bakery is fierce. I pop in constantly when I bunk off from the dealership.”
Greyson scrunched her forehead, as if the woman was speaking a foreign language.
“Anyway, my cousin Erica, Kayleigh’s sister, always makes the Porter Cake for Christmas. But she’s out of town for work and we don’t know when she’s going to be home,” Vanessa cut in. “My aunt already had a fit that it hasn’t been started. Kayleigh and I are not what you would call talented with the baked goods. Is there any possibility we can convince you to help us?”
