“By the way, Carter’s in the hospital,” Blaze says.
I scoff.“Good.He deserved it.”
“Yeah, well, Mike and the others covered for you.They told his parents it was a random street fight—said Carter was jumped.No one mentioned your name.His parents are threatening to press charges.”
I’m silent for a moment, processing this.“They covered for me?”
“Yeah, man.You’re good.Carter’s still unconscious, though.”
“Good,” I mutter.
“Fox, take care of yourself, alright?You’ll find him.”
“Thanks, Blaze.”
After hanging up, I try calling Cameron one last time, but it goes straight to voicemail again.Frustrated, I text him instead.
ME: Cameron, please, I need to talk to you.Whatever you think happened, I promise you it’s not true.I would never hurt you—I’d only end up hurting myself.Please, text me your whereabouts.I’m worried, and I really need to speak with you.
I hit send, hoping and praying for a response.
Lying back on the bed, I scroll through the photos of Cameron and me on my phone.One picture catches my eye—a candid shot he took of us together.He’s smiling, his hazel eyes bright, his blonde hair messy from the wind.
God, I miss him.
“I want you here,” I whisper, clutching the phone to my chest.Eventually, I drift off to sleep, the sound of rain falling outside the only comfort I have.
I stare at Jane’s bakery from my car.It’s morning, and there’s still no sign of Cameron.He hasn’t responded to my text, and I couldn’t sleep knowing he might be out there alone.My frustration boils over as I push open the bakery’s double doors and step inside.
The warm scent of freshly baked goods wafts through the air.A few customers, mostly workers grabbing a quick breakfast, mill around.The bakery is beautifully kept, much more inviting than I expected.
At the counter, a young woman with dark brown eyes arranges baked goods in the display case.She looks up when she notices me.
“Hi, welcome to Jane’s Bakery.What can I get you?”she asks, her voice friendly but distracted.
I clear my throat.“Is Jane here?I need to speak with her.”
Her expression shifts to one of suspicion.“Who are you?”
“I’m Cameron’s friend,” I say quickly.“I’m visiting, and I need to speak with her.Have you seen Cameron today?”
She hesitates, looking me up and down.“Not really.Mrs.Brooke said he went back to school yesterday.”
What?
Before I can question her further, Jane’s voice calls out from the kitchen.“Gold, who’s there?”She steps out, wiping her hands on her apron, and freezes when she sees me.Her eyes are red and puffy as if she’s been crying.
“You,” she says sharply, her voice tense.
“Mrs.Brooke,” I begin, keeping my tone measured.“I need a word with you.”
“You can’t be here,” she whispers harshly, glancing around the bakery.
“I just need five minutes of your time,” I plead.“I promise, that’s all I’m asking.Five minutes, and I’ll leave and never come back.”
She studies me for a moment, her jaw tight.Finally, she sighs, unties her apron, and hands it to the girl at the counter.“Gold, take over.I’ll be back.”
She leads me to a small office in the corner of the bakery, her movements tense and purposeful.Once inside, she leans against the desk and folds her arms.
