DOLLY: HARDER, BABY.

"Nothing!" I say, far too quickly for it to actually be nothing.

There's a pause on the other end of the line. I can almost hear Oscar's brows lift, then his eyes narrow in suspicion.

I push away from the table and retreat to my bathroom, the only place soundproof enough to get through this conversation safely. Don't ask me what the builders were thinking when they made the bathroom more soundproof than the bedroom. I've already stopped trying to understand it. I just use it.

I lean against the cold edge of the sink and take a breath, hoping my voice doesn't come out breathless. The tap drips once, loud in the quiet.

"Why did you call?"

"Why? Can't a brother call his favourite sibling?"

"I'm your only sibling," I deadpan.

"Regardless, I like you best." He pauses, then drops his voice as if sharing a secret. "Even better than Noah, though don't tell him I said that."

Like a bloody sleeper code, I feel my body react to that name. My face flames, and the butterflies I thought I'd trampled to death spring back to life, wings and all. I press a hand to my cheek and glare at my reflection, as if it's the one to blame. It's been years. You'd think my body would have learned by now.

"Your secret is safe with me," I say, very calm and nonchalant. "Unfortunately, I'll have to blackmail you with it until the end of time."

"Fine," he says, resigned. "If that is to be my fate."

I crack the bathroom door open and press my ear against it, checking whether it's safe to come out. Blessedly, it's quiet. No footsteps, no creaking floorboards, no Fiona moaning like she's seeing the creator.

Back in the living room, I put my phone on speaker and place it on the table beside my laptop and notes. The apartment is small, but it's mine: mismatched mugs, a window overlooking MeadowLark's main street, and the lingering smell of cinnamon from my last test batch.

My bakery ideas are scribbled across the pages in pink ink, because even my business plans need to be optimistic. Half the page is menu drafts, the other half numbers I'm trying very hard not to be scared of. At the top, underlined twice, is a single word: Gina. The woman who promised to help me start my own place once her café was up and running, and who has been "too busy" ever since.

In the kitchen, I put some rice in the microwave and glance at the fridge. The little sticky note, ticked, tells me my roommate has already fed Steak, my dog. As if on cue, I hear the soft thump of her tail against the couch cushions. She lifts her head, ears twitching hopefully, decides I'm not holding anything she can eat yet, and goes right back to sleep.

I set up a tray for Owl, diced mango and a few grains of rice arranged so prettily I want to eat it myself, and run my fingers through her soft, downy yellow feathers. The microwave beeps, and she tilts her head and copies the sound perfectly, a talent I've learned to both love and fear.

Owl is my one and only feather baby. And while I love Steak fiercely, Owl was the second thing I wanted but never had the guts to go after. The first was a bakery of my own. She's a tiny feathered reminder that sometimes I'm capable of choosing what I want, and then actually going after it.

"Besides," Oscar goes on, "checking up on you is a perfectly valid reason to call."

I nod stoically, even though he can't see me. It is.

"I also called to remind you that Noah is coming back from his trip tomorrow. I need to make sure you'll be there."

My cheeks heat up for the second time. Damn sleeper code.

There's absolutely no need for Oscar to remind me. I've circled the date in my calendar countless times, and then circled it again, as if it might disappear if I didn't. But I can't let him know that. He'd have a heart attack if he found out I have feelings other than sisterly love where Noah is concerned.

And when he came to, he'd put Noah and me on leashes to keep us as far apart as possible.

Noah Reid. Medical doctor. Eligible bachelor. Alpha.

Also my childhood crush, and a constant in our small family for as long as I can remember. He became close friends with Oscar first, then with me by association, and before I knew it he was practically living at our house twenty-four-seven. He knew which cupboard held the good biscuits. He knew not to sit in my dad's favourite chair. He's the one who patched up my scraped knees back when he was still in med school, and I've been hopeless ever since. He fit into our lives so easily, a third child my parents hadn't planned for but welcomed regardless.

Not that I'm complaining.

It's just unfortunate that, as far as Noah is concerned, I'm nothing more than Oscar's annoying little sister.

Unfortunate and good. I don't need distractions at this point in my life, and relationships are a no-go. It's all fun and games to crush on him, but I need it to stay a crush.

I tell my lady parts to calm the hell down. They do not listen.

"Yes, Mom," I tease. "I remember. I'll be there." I pull the plate of jollof rice from the microwave just as Fiona's door predictably opens. She emerges in an oversized sweater, hair messy and cheeks flushed, and her eyes go straight to the plate. I nod toward my phone and put a finger over my lips. "How did his trip go?"

"Good. I think he's planning to stay in MeadowLark a lot longer this time around."

I hand Fiona a fork and set the plate between us. She tucks her hair behind her ear and digs in, eyebrows climbing as she mouths, "Is that Oscar?" I nod and wave her off. She leans in anyway, close enough that I have to physically nudge her away from the phone.

"That's new." Noah has always tried to get as far from MeadowLark as respectfully possible. We all know he doesn't have the best relationship with his family, which is why he's always trying to get away. Always staying at our place. I wonder what changed. Noah choosing to stay in MeadowLark is about as likely as Owl choosing to stay quiet. "Is he okay?"

"That's what I said!" He laughs. "You can ask him yourself when you see him. He won't tell me anything. I gotta go. Talk later."

"Of course."

"Bye. Good luck with Gina tomorrow." He pauses again. "Umm… and tell Fiona I said hi."

Fiona freezes mid-chew, then very carefully pretends she didn't hear.

"Will do. Thanks. Bye."

I end the call feeling weirdly drained. I'd forgotten about the scheduled talk with Gina. I'd love nothing more than to postpone what will most likely be a nerve-racking conversation, but I can't. I won't. It's time to put my big girl panties on.

I press my thumb to my right eyebrow, trying to rub away the growing headache. The pain pulses behind my eye like it's keeping time. I should definitely see a doctor soon. My list of symptoms keeps growing, and it's starting to worry me. Maybe after tomorrow. Everything is after tomorrow.

Fiona waits until the screen goes dark. Then she swallows her mouthful, very slowly, like someone savoring a good secret.

"Sooooo," she sing-songs, innocently planting both elbows on the counter and leaning forward. She blinks up at me with big brown doe eyes. "How was your day?"

Then Owl pipes up from her perch, parts her beak, and screams in an uncannily human voice: "Yes, harder, baby."

Fiona chokes on her rice. We both stare at Owl, then burst out laughing, loud enough that Steak lifts her head in disapproval. Owl stares back, entirely unrepentant.

I should be mortified. Instead, my eyes drift to the calendar on the fridge, to the date I've circled so many times the ink has almost bled through.

Tomorrow, Gina will either keep her promise and save my bakery, or bury it for good.

Tomorrow, Noah Reid will be back in MeadowLark.

And I have no idea which one scares me more.