Chapter 3

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of Vanessa’s house, a bigger place than most in Harper’s Hearth—two stories, wood floors creaking underfoot, a wide living room stretching out with a plush couch and a coffee table piled with baking magazines. The kitchen hummed down the hall, coffee brewing, its sharp scent cutting through the quiet of her day off. Ethan sat on the couch, boots off by the front door, sandy hair still messy from crashing in his room upstairs—the spare one she’d set aside for him, a lifeline he grabbed when home turned sour. First time was six months ago—storm killed the power, Dad was drunk, smashing bottles. She found me at the bakery, drenched, and said, ‘Stay over, kid—no sense sitting in that.’ Gave me the room next to hers, bed and all—been my escape since. Yesterday’s shit with Kai and the trays sent me here again—couldn’t face the trailer after that slam, he thought, his green eyes scanning the space, settling on Vanessa as she stepped in from the kitchen.

She carried two mugs, steam rising, and set one on the table in front of him. Her dress was plain—loose cotton, faded blue, nothing special, the kind that’d hang dull on anyone else. But on Vanessa, it worked, the neckline dipping just enough to show a hint of cleavage, her full breasts pressing softly against the fabric as she leaned down. It wasn’t sexy by design—no tight fit, no flash—but her curves made it something else, her chestnut hair loose and tangled from sleep, framing her like she didn’t even try. Ethan’s chest tightened, his mind snapping back to Kai—his face sunk deep in her breasts two days ago, then yesterday, that slow brush against her softness during the tray crash. Bastard got her like I never will—smothered in her, then dragging across her like it’s his right, he thought, his fingers digging into the couch cushion.

“Coffee’s strong—should perk you up,” Vanessa said, her voice warm, settling into the armchair across from him. She smiled, hazel eyes crinkling, and leaned forward, her generous bosom shifting under the dress, the faint cleavage catching the light. “You were quiet last night—still upset about the trays?” She tilted her head, her tone gentle, pulling at him like she could smooth over yesterday’s mess—his snap, the slammed door—with a few soft words. She was trying, her nurturing side out in full, wanting to fix what cracked. “It was just a spill, Ethan—no harm done. I need you around, you know.”

Ethan grabbed the mug, wrapping his hands around it, the heat stinging his palms. He nodded, his green eyes flicking to her, then dropping. “Yeah, just a spill,” he said, his voice low, rough, catching in his throat. She thinks it’s the trays—doesn’t get Kai’s smirk, his face in her chest, his arm on her while I stood there like a fool. The images burned—Kai’s head buried in her full bosom, then that crash, his arm sinking into her lush curves, soft and heavy, dragging slow while Ethan gripped a broom, useless. His jaw tightened, the ache cutting deeper, but he sipped the coffee, letting her think he was easing up. “I’m fine, Ness—don’t worry about it.”

She leaned back, the dress settling over her frame, the hint of cleavage still there, tugging at him without intent. “Good—I don’t like seeing you off like that,” she said, her smile softening, her voice steady and warm. “You’re my anchor, Ethan—six months keeping that bakery going with me. Kai’s new, but you’re the one I rely on.” She sipped her coffee, her plump chest rising with a slow breath, and Ethan’s grip on the mug tightened, his knuckles whitening. Anchor? Then why’s Kai the one touching you—face in your breasts, arm on you, while I’m stuck sweeping? he thought, the bitterness surging, but he kept his face blank, nodding again. “Yeah, I’m here,” he said, quieter, giving her the answer she wanted to hear.

Vanessa set her mug down, stretching her arms up, the dress lifting a bit, her breasts pressing against the cotton, a full outline that hit him like a quiet blow. “Rough day yesterday—I’m glad you stayed. Keeps things normal,” she said, her tone bright, still nurturing, like she could stitch their bond back with coffee and care. She stood, heading for the kitchen down the hall—past her own room upstairs, past the little office closer to her space, the one she used for recipe notes and late-night baking plans. “Pancakes sound good? Gotta keep you fed,” she called back, her laugh light, her hips swaying naturally as the dress brushed her thighs. She thought she’d coaxed him back—her Ethan, steady again—unaware of the fire still smoldering in him. He watched her go, her lush bosom swaying with each step, and the ache flared hotter—Kai’s moments looping, her oblivious warmth feeding it. She thinks it’s fixed—doesn’t see I’m still breaking, he thought, his green eyes narrowing, defiance hardening beneath the calm she saw.

The coffee steamed in his hands, the house quiet except for her humming in the kitchen, a tune he knew from their bakery days. She was trying—her care, her warmth, pulling at him like always—but Kai’s shadow hung heavy, his face in her breasts, his arm dragging against her, and Ethan couldn’t shake it. I’m still here, Ness—I’ll make you see me, he thought, sipping again, the bitterness matching the one gnawing at his chest.

### Chapter 3

The bakery was quiet mid-morning, the ovens warm from the first batch of rolls, a few customers sipping coffee at the tables near the front. The air smelled of yeast and sugar, a steady hum filling the space. Ellen stood behind the counter, stacking trays with calm, practiced hands. She was in her 50s, her graying hair tied back in a simple bun, her apron snug from years of use. She’d been with Vanessa since the bakery started, keeping it running when others were away—a practical woman who’d raised three kids in Harper’s Hearth and worked tough nursing shifts before this job brought her some peace. Her husband still drove a lumber truck, and the extra cash kept them afloat. Vanessa worked dough at the counter nearby, her tight shirt showing the full shape of her breasts, moving slightly as she pressed into the flour-covered surface. Kai stood beside her, leaning against the edge, his slim build relaxed but his dark eyes watchful.

Ellen wiped her hands on a cloth, looking at Vanessa with a small smile. “This pace is easy—my three kids were harder to manage than any busy day here. Always running around, needing something,” she said, her voice steady and warm. Vanessa laughed, flattening her dough, her generous chest shifting as she pushed down. “Three? I’d lose it—Ethan and Clary are enough work already,” she said, her tone friendly, caring as always. She nodded toward the register, where Ethan handled a customer, his sandy hair falling over his green eyes, his face tight. Clary was by the ovens, pulling a tray, her curls bouncing as she hummed a tune off-key.

Kai tilted his head, smiling easily as he joined in. “Three sounds tough—my parents just had me, and I was still a lot to handle,” he said, keeping his voice light. Ellen looked at him, stacking another tray. “One can be plenty if they keep you busy—what did you do to wear them out?” she asked, her tone calm but interested. Kai shrugged, brushing a hand through his dark hair, his clean look hinting at a past bigger than this town. “Grew up with money—big house, fancy cars. Dad’s a lawyer, Mom sells real estate, both loaded. But they weren’t soft about it—yelling, hitting, whatever got the point across. I’d take off when I could, hide out with friends or just walk the city. Kept me sharp,” he said, his smile steady, but a shadow crossed his eyes briefly.

Vanessa stopped kneading, her hands resting on the dough, her hazel eyes meeting his. “That sounds rough—how’d you end up here with us?” she asked, her voice soft, warm, pulling him in like she did with everyone. Kai leaned a bit closer, his gaze flicking to her full breasts for a moment before lifting back to her face. “Needed out—money’s nice, but the rest got old fast. Left it behind, came here. Smaller feels better—less noise,” he said, his tone even, holding back the sharper edges. Less noise, more control—starting with you, he thought, his mind turning quietly. Ellen nodded, wiping the counter with her cloth, her hands never stopping. “Small can settle you—my youngest tried leaving once, came right back. Needed the quiet, like I did after nursing. Those shifts were loud enough,” she said, her words simple, practical, linking her life to his without digging too deep.

“It’s why I stayed here—nursing was hard, and the kids kept me going. Routine held us together—my husband’s still out driving lumber, but this job’s my calm spot,” Ellen added, setting the cloth down, her steady nature clear. Vanessa shaped her dough again, her plump chest pressing against her shirt as she leaned in, smiling at her. “Glad you’re here—you keep this place solid when I’m not,” she said, her voice kind, thankful. Kai watched her move, his smirk faint, his thoughts ticking. Solid’s useful—Ellen’s steady, you’re the one I want. “Yeah, steady matters—my folks had the cash, but I’d rather have something real,” he said, keeping it smooth, letting his past hang there without pushing it.