Sylvia clasped her hands in the now all-too-familiarbad newsstance. “Unfortunately, a close competition means that the person going home also turned out an incredible product. This final decision came down to microns, but it had to be made.” She sighed again. “The person who has to leave us this week... is Finn.”
Finn? Are you shitting me?Henry’s jaw clamped tight. If Finn was going to try to drop some bomb about Henry and Tristan, now would be the moment. He was on his way out, and a wounded animal would attack. Another chance for Henry to fall, to bring his mother’s worries to life. Henry glanced surreptitiously at him, trying to get some clue as to how he was feeling, but his taut stance revealed nothing.
Dexter cleared his throat and the cameras whipped toward him. From the wide-eyed, open-mouthed look on Sylvia’s face, this wasn’t anything they’d planned. “You may be going home, but you really turned out an amazing body of work this week and during the whole competition.”
Finn was obviously trying to hide his confusion, but he was failing, brow furrowing.
Dexter smiled at him, eyes bright. “And I say this wholeheartedly: if you ever need a change of job, you have a spot in my kitchen. It’s not often you run across someone who works with the sort of precision you’ve demonstrated under pressure.”
Finn’s face reddened, his body relaxed, and of course the cameras swung back around to catch it for posterity. “Thank you. Really.”
“And that’s a wrap!” Out came the director, Jacob. He walked straight to Dexter and didn’t even attempt to whisper. “A little heads-up would be appreciated before you decide to go rogue, again.”
“Sorry. It was in the heat of the moment.”
Jacob shrugged. “You do what you want with your business, no skin off my nose. That shit makes for good TV. It has to be usable footage, though.” He turned to address the whole line. “We’re going to have you guys do your interviews and voice-overs tonight before you head home. I hope none of you made pressing dinner reservations.”
Henry released a breath. His whole body went slack as the nerves wicked away. He was here for another round. Four more days to spend with Tristan. Icy responses or not, he was looking forward to any morsel of that man he could get. Plus another chance to prove himself against the other bakers. And that was key, because although he’d gotten to stay, he hadn’t yet lost, he was also the only one left who hadn’t yet won. Willa had two. That put Henry firmly at the bottom of the pack.
But next week is viennoiserie. Viennoiserie I can do.He made turnovers and cinnamon rolls and kites all day, seven days a week. And damn it, if he couldn’t pullthiswin off, then there was no real hope for him.
Henry turned to the other bakers. Surprisingly, they weren’t all crowding around Finn. Apparently their condolences had already happened while Henry was hanging out in the dark corners of his head. Either that or they thought getting a job offer from Dexter Wilson was enough of a prize.
Willa was there, though, a leathery arm around his shoulder, smiling and chattering away. Would he say anything to her about them, or would he keep that a private issue, the way it should be? It wasn’t Willa’s business. It wasn’t Finn’s, for that matter, but fate had intervened to make sure he knew regardless.
Henry glanced at Tristan, and he was still closed off, still avoiding eye contact, standing at his station and clutching his arms around his chest. He wasn’t the Tristan that Henry had been spending all this time with, the one that was digging in under Henry’s skin and making a place for himself. It waspainfulto see him so closed off, so hurt, so worried.
And if there was a way to fix it, Henry was damn sure going to try.
He leaned in closer to Tristan. “Hey, I’m going to handle something, then I’ll be right back.” Henry didn’t stick around long enough to hear Tristan’s answer, instead jogging after Willa and Finn.
“—really a shame you’re heading home. I liked your style, kid.”
“Thanks, but it’s the way the cake crumbled. My time to head back, I guess.”
They’re not talking about me or Tristan.Relieved, Henry laid his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Hey, you left your phone back at the station it looks like.” It was a shitty excuse, of course. He probably had his phone in his pocket, but Henry wanted him separated for this.
Finn rolled his eyes.“I’m always losing that thing. Good chat, Willa.”
Once they were away from everyone else, Henry stopped. “Listen, about what you saw out there ...”
Finn blinked a couple of times before shrugging. “Saw? Who saw anything?” He grinned like an idiot, his smile pushing up the mole on his right cheek. “Don’t worry about it, Henry. Who cares if you like to kiss boys?”
“But... with what happened with Bertha... you could have taken that to the judges.”
“Are you telling me you did something wrong?” He shrugged. “The way I see it, you deserve to be here. Both of you boys. I lost out. What kind of bitter, loveless bastard would I have to be to throw you two under the bus for getting a little action on the side?” He clapped Henry hard on the shoulder. “I’m not saying a word to the judges. No worries.”
Henry breathed a sigh. “If you’re ever in Seattle, I owe you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I make it that far north. Until then, farewell.” Finn left with a wave.
When Henry turned, Willa was right there, and his heart almost blew out of his chest. “Willa. Didn’t see you.”
“Did Finn get his phone back?”
“Oh, it was in his pocket. Don’t know what I saw.”Apparently I’m shit at lying today.“Must be my exhausted brain after all this baking.”
She nodded and smiled at him. “Well, go get some good rest. This next round’s not going to be easy.”
