Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(55)

"You mean Seattle, right?" Because I couldn't imagine my mom encouraging me to stay in Green Valley and be with someone other than Joss. They already loved her like a daughter.

"Partially. You loved it, right?"

I nodded. "It almost surprised me how much, you know? It's so different than home, and I've never felt the itch to move away, but"—I swallowed and hedged over my words for a minute, like I wasn't sure I was ready to say them out loud—"but I think going there forced me to admit how stuck I've been."

She kept her eyes on the road. Conspicuously so. "Stuck how?"

"Maybe stuck isn't even the right word. It's more like … complacent, you know? I chose a master's program where I could commute from home. I graduated six weeks ago, and even though I know I won't be able to find the kind of job I need in Green Valley, I'm not out trying to find my place because I don't … I don't want to leave her. If it wasn't for Hunter, it's not like I would've been looking at jobs in Washington."

That was the simple truth of it. I didn't want to leave her. If Joss never felt the way I did, I'd probably love her for the rest of my life, even if someone else settled into a corner of my heart that I'd managed to keep free. And I still couldn't imagine leaving her.

"Honey, you have so much life ahead of you. Everything feels big and important and life-changing, every single decision. But the truth is, you've got so many options, things that you'd be happy doing, jobs you'd love, and towns and cities that would feel like home. If you feel stuck right now, like you're not pushing yourself forward, I think that's okay." She reached over the console and patted my hand. "As long as you don't stay there once you realize it."

"Is that your way of telling me to get off my ass and get a job, even if it's not in Washington?"

"Yes."

I smiled, shaking my head a little bit.

"And she'll come around," she continued quietly.

I closed my eyes even though my sunglasses covered them. "You think so? You know how stubborn she is."

"I sure do. That's why she's good for you."

"I don't know, Mom. I think I scare her more than anything else could."

Her smile was soft. "And that's why you're good for her. She needs that. Her momma doesn't push her, never has. Jocelyn has all this fire in her. It's one of the things I love most about that girl, but sometimes she uses it as a weapon rather than a way to burn off the stuff that holds her back."

I was quiet because I didn't know what to say next. It helped that my family knew her so well and loved her all the more for it.

"Well," my mom said quietly as Green Valley came into view, "I hope you hear from them soon about the job."

"Me too." One less unknown in my life would be great.

"And you're home just in time to help set up for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night. Aren't you glad? Sylvia wants lots of twinkle lights strung up in that big oak in her parents' backyard to look like a tent or something. I told her you'd help Connor."

I sighed heavily. "Not even home for three hours and I'm already signed up for forced labor."

The car pulled up to a red light, and she turned to me with a tight smile. Her hand lifted to pat my face, then she smacked a little harder than necessary.

"Ow," I muttered.

"I raised sons with good, helpful attitudes. You remember that, young man. I'm the one making your supper tonight."

"Yes, ma'am."

While I laughed, I still fought the impulse to pull out my phone and text Joss. My desire to want her to know the things I thought were funny, the things that were exciting, and the things I wanted to share with her were unconscious. And I didn't think that would ever go away.





Chapter 20





Jocelyn





Joy, as it turned out, was a closet makeup artist. She spent hours watching YouTube videos and practicing techniques she'd never worn out of the house because she felt it helped her be a better cake decorator. That made sense too because she did shit on some wedding cakes that brought a tear to the eye of even the greatest cynic.

Which was how I ended up with a face full of makeup that somehow didn't look like I had a face full of makeup, but the version of me in the mirror was—in my mind—so much more beautiful than I looked every day.

It was me, but it wasn't.

She did something to my eyes that made the blue bluer and the shape bigger. My cheekbones were highlighted and the perfect shade of peachy shimmery pink. My lashes were thick and black but not spidery or gross. I'd asked for her to leave my lips alone because I felt like a clown when I wore lipstick, so with a grimace, she allowed me to slick on some tinted ChapStick.

It was only because of her secret superhero skills that I felt even remotely prepared to put on the dress that I'd bought weeks ago for Connor and Sylvia's wedding.

The fact that I had a dress in my closet at all was one thing. That it was long made it even stranger. The lines were simple, the color one solid line of bluish purple—summer lavender, the girl at the shop in Maryville told me. With a halter that hooked behind my neck with a thin string, I could show off my arms, clearly my best trait. The daring part, the part that made my tummy flip, was that my back was completely exposed. The dress tied around the back, wrapping around my waist in a way that sitting, or standing, it looked flattering.