All Chapters of Marked By Mistake: The Baker's Secret: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

(Ivy's POV)I was unable to fall asleep.I told myself it was the cold, the radiator ticking uselessly against a chill that had settled deep enough into the old building to seep through even three blankets, but the truth sat heavier than weather, tracks in the snow behind my own bakery, a watcher patient enough to leave no other trace, close enough to have been listening to every single thing I said to Roman through that back door for who knew how long.I gave up around one in the morning, pulling on a sweater over my pajamas and padding out to the kitchen for tea I did not particularly want, and it was through the frost rimmed window over the sink that I spotted him, a dark shape standing at the edge of the streetlight down below, exactly where he had been standing most nights for two weeks now.I made two mugs instead of one."You are supposed to be asleep," Roman said, when I appeared at the bottom of the stairwell in socked feet, holding out the second mug like a peace offering."

(Roman's POV)The pack clinic smelled sharply of antiseptic and the specific, tense quiet of a waiting room at two in the morning, fluorescent lights washing everything the same flat, colorless white, chairs bolted in careful rows along walls the color of weak tea, a coffee machine humming uselessly in the corner that neither of us had the stomach to use, and I stood at the window beside Ivy's chair, one hand resting on her shoulder, watching her stare at the closed exam room door like she could will it open through sheer force of focus."He is going to be fine," I said, not entirely certain I believed it myself."You do not know that.""No," I admitted. "But the healer on duty tonight is one of the best we have, and your father is stubborn enough to argue with death itself if it tried anything."That earned a small, watery laugh, and Ivy leaned into my side, exhausted enough to accept the comfort without her usual careful distance, and I stood there letting her, grateful for once tha

(Ivy's POV)Roman's scouts found nothing more than the tracks themselves, whoever had stood watching the bakery that night had vanished as cleanly as they had arrived, no scent trail beyond the tree line, no further sign in the week since, and the not knowing sat heavier on all of us than an actual answer might have, a held breath nobody quite knew how to release.My father, at least, was improving, color back in his cheeks, color back in his stubbornness too, judging by how many times Denise had caught him sneaking bacon against doctor's orders, and some of the tightest knot in my chest had finally started to loosen, day by careful day, even with everything else still circling."You have got a visitor," Denise called from the front of the shop one grey Tuesday afternoon, and I looked up from the mixing bowl to find Amaya letting herself in on a gust of cold air, cheeks pink, a paper bag from the coffee shop down the street in one hand."I come bearing bribery," she announced, setting

(Ivy's POV)"I vote for the one with the singing snowman," Hazel announced, already burrowing into the blanket fort she and Roman had spent a suspicious amount of effort constructing across my living room floor, complete with what appeared to be every couch cushion I owned and at least two of my good throw pillows."We watched that one three times this week.""It is a good movie, Mommy.""It is," Roman agreed solemnly, settling onto the floor beside her with a bowl of popcorn balanced with the careful concentration of a man handling something considerably more dangerous, "objectively, an excellent movie. The snowman has range.""You are supposed to be on my side," I said, dropping onto the couch above their blanket fort, unable to keep the fondness out of my voice."I am on the side of popcorn and snowmen. I do not see how that conflicts with your side."Hazel settled the matter herself by pressing play, entirely too pleased with her own authority over the remote, and within minutes h

(Ivy's POV)I should not have let him help close up that night. That was, in hindsight, the entire problem.The last customer had left twenty minutes earlier, the shop settling into the particular hush it always took on after hours, flour dust still hanging faint in the air under the overhead lamps, the front windows fogged at the edges against the cold pressing in from outside. Denise had retreated to the back office to reconcile the register, leaving Roman and me alone up front with a half dozen closing tasks and considerably less focus on them than the tasks deserved."You are doing that thing again," I said, watching Roman attempt, with far more confidence than skill, to flip the closed sign in the front window without knocking over the display of scarves Denise had started selling on consignment."What thing.""The thing where you find increasingly elaborate excuses to stay past closing.""I am providing essential security services." He caught the sign just before it clattered to