"Drew?" I breathed, staring at him in disbelief.
Drew Miller looked almost exactly as he had in high school; only that he was now taller, broader, and more filled out.
He was the boy who used to sit two rows ahead of me in AP Chemistry... the boy I’d spent three years secretly crushing on while pretending to focus on my periodic table notes back then.
He was wearing a dark flannel shirt and blue jeans, with a warm, easygoing smile that instantly melted away the cold stress that had been tight in my chest all day.
"Nora! I thought that was you," Drew grinned, setting the wooden crate of fresh apples down on a stool beside the honey stall. "What are you doing back in Oakhaven? I thought you were locked away in a Briar library studying for a four-point-oh."
"I’m usually doing exactly that," I said, a small, genuine smile breaking across my face as I stepped closer. "My mom threw her back out today. She’s stuck on the sofa upstairs, and we have a huge Fall Festival catering order due Wednesday morning."
"Oh no, is Mrs. Bennett okay?" Drew asked, his hazel eyes filling with instant concern. "I know how hard she works."
"She’s resting," I said, turning back to the honey vendor to pay for the two golden jars of wildflower honey. "I’m taking over the baking, but I just realized we were completely out of glaze honey."
"Let me carry those for you," Drew insisted, stepping up and grabbing the heavy glass jars before I could even reach for them. "I’m heading past Sugar & Spice anyway."
"Drew, you don’t have to do that..."
"Nora, we’ve known each other since middle school. You think I’m going to let you haul glass jars three blocks in the cold?" Drew chuckled softly, tucking the jars under his arm.
We started walking down the paved sidewalk toward the bakery, the cool evening wind rustling the bright autumn leaves along the curb.
It felt strange and surprisingly comforting to walk down Main Street with someone from my past, far away from the high-stakes drama, gossip pages, and institutional threats of Briar University.
Drew looked over at me, his gaze dropping to the black cotton pooling around my knees.
"So," he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Since when do you support sports?"
I froze mid-step, my hand instinctively clutching the collar of the hoodie. "What?"
"The hoodie," Drew gestured with his chin toward the bold gold Briar Hockey embroidered across my chest and the massive number 19 printed on the sleeve. "You used to refuse to come to our high school games because you said sports were a waste of study time. Now you’re walking around in a varsity jersey?"
"Oh," I stammered, feeling a sudden, awkward heat flush my cheeks. "It’s... it’s just a borrowed hoodie. My sweater was thin, and a friend let me borrow it because of the cold morning."
"A friend, huh?" Drew repeated in a playful tone, though his eyes lingered on the giant 19 for a second longer than necessary. "Must be a big friend. That thing looks like a sleeping bag on you."
"He’s tall," I muttered evasively, shifting the subject before he could dig any further. "What about you? Where are you going to school?"
"State College," Drew smiled proudly. "Majoring in agricultural business. My classes are online for midterms this week, so I came back home to help my uncle with the apple orchard."
"State?" I blinked, surprised. "As in... State College?"
He nodded in response.
State had been my dream school all through high school... the affordable state college where I’d always assumed I’d end up. But when Briar offered me a full academic scholarship, I couldn’t turn it down. "I didn’t realize you ended up there."
"Yeah, got accepted right after graduation," Drew smiled warmly. "It’s really great. Big campus, good people. I thought for sure I’d see you in the bio-chem building on move-in day."
"I thought so too," I admitted with a small, nostalgic smile. "Briar came out of nowhere with the scholarship offer. It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, but... sometimes I wonder how different things would be if I’d gone to State."
Drew looked down at me, his hazel eyes soft under the streetlights. "Well, you would’ve had someone to eat lunch with on Mondays."
I let out a soft laugh, the cold autumn wind whipping a stray curl across my face. "That would have been nice, I guess. But I’m really happy for you," I said sincerely. It suited him perfectly. He had always been grounded, practical, and connected to Oakhaven in a way I admired. "Do you like the program?"
"Love it," he said as we stepped out onto the cool evening sidewalk. "It’s a lot of work, but Uncle Pete’s orchard gave me a huge head start on the business side of things."
We reached the front glass door of Sugar & Spice, the familiar bell chiming faintly as I unlocked it.
"Well, if you’re taking over the bakery for the festival, you’re going to need help," Drew said as he stepped inside and set the heavy honey jars on the front counter. "Fifty sourdough loaves and two hundred cupcakes is a two-person job."
"Drew, I couldn’t ask you to do that," I shook my head instantly. "You’re home to study and help your uncle."
"Uncle Pete doesn’t need me until Thursday," Drew countered, leaning against the counter with that same easygoing grin. "And I’m pretty sure I remember how to separate an egg. Besides, Mrs. Bennett made the best snickerdoodles in town for our bake sales. It’s the least I can do."
"Are you sure?" I asked, feeling my shoulders relax as the massive weight of the bakery order suddenly felt a little more manageable.
"Positive," Drew said softly as he pushed off the counter. "I’ll be here first thing tomorrow. Get some rest, Nora."
"Thank you, Drew," I breathed.
"See you tomorrow," he said, turning and heading out the door.
I locked the door behind him and let out a long, shaky breath. The bakery was quiet, and I could still smell cinnamon, old wood, and the faint scent of Drew’s flannel shirt.
I headed upstairs to the apartment above the shop. Mom was fast asleep on the sofa, with a heating pad glowing dimly under her lower back. I quietly draped a blanket over her, checked her water, and crept back down to the bakery kitchen.
If we were going to bake fifty loaves of artisanal sourdough, the preferment needed to be mixed tonight.
By six-thirty Tuesday morning, I was already awake.
The bakery air was crisp, but the stove hummed as I brewed coffee and toasted sourdough. I put tea, toast, and her morning medication on a tray, then carefully carried it upstairs to my mother.
"Nora, sweetheart, you didn’t have to bring breakfast up," Mom groaned softly as she sat up on the sofa, looking much more comfortable than yesterday.
"I’m handling everything today, Mom," I smiled, placing the tray across her lap and kissing her cheek. "You just rest. Drew is coming by to help with the heavy lifting."
Mom’s eyes flickered with a quiet, curious spark. "Drew Miller?"
"Yes, Mom. Saw him yesterday on my way back from the farmer’s market and he offered to help. As a friend," I added quickly, stepping back with a laugh before she could start asking questions. "Call me if you need anything."
I walked back downstairs, wiping my hands on my apron as I entered the main kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the room.
A moment later, the bell above the glass front door chimed.
Drew stepped inside, holding two paper cups from the local coffee shop in a cardboard tray. He wore a gray hoodie under his flannel, and his eyes were bright in the morning sun.
"I brought coffee," he grinned, holding up one of the cups.
"Drew, you didn’t have to do that," I said with a smile, gesturing to the steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee already sitting on the counter.
"Well... I already did," Drew replied, stepping past me into the kitchen and setting the cups on the main counter.
He looked around at the prepped baking sheets and giant mixing bowls with a playful grin. "So, Nora... ready to bake a mountain of bread?"