Page 26 of Rook
Avery locked the screen with a shaky breath and shoved the phone deep into her bag, as if burying it could bury him too.
“Not today,” she whispered.
Not ever again.
She drew in a steadying breath and stepped out of the car, forcing her legs to move even though her chest still felt tight.
The automatic doors whooshed open, and the blast of cold air hit her like a shock. She grabbed a cart, trying to focus on her list instead of the ache in her chest.
Flour. Sugar. Butter. Coffee. Anything that made the bakery feel alive again.
She turned down the baking aisle—
And stopped dead.
Noah Carter stood halfway down the row, one hand braced on the shelf, the other holding a can of coffee. His cut hung open over a black T-shirt, tattoos on full display, hair slightly messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times.
He looked unfairly good for someone who’d stormed out on her last week.
He looked up.
Their eyes met.
And the world narrowed to a single, breathless point.
“Avery,” he said, voice low.
“Noah.” She swallowed. “Or is it Rook now?”
His jaw tightened, barely noticeable unless you knew him. “Don’t.”
She pushed her cart forward, pretending her pulse wasn’t doing gymnastics. “I’m just trying to figure out what to call you.”
“You know my name.”
“Do I?”
His eyes darkened. “Aves…”
The nickname hit her like a punch to the ribs.
She looked away quickly, grabbing another bag of flour she didn’t actually need. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“It’s a grocery store,” he said. “People come here.”
“Wow. Insightful.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You always get mean when you’re hurt.”
She stiffened. The world seemed to tilt, just a fraction, but enough to steal her breath.
He stepped closer, slow and careful, like she was something fragile he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch.
“I didn’t mean to…” He exhaled. “Last week was a lot.”
“For both of us.”
“Yeah.”
