Bound To Rage

Harper POV

The sign smelled like fresh paint. I stood across the street with a coffee in one hand and stared at the storefront I'd spent the last month renovating.

**Sugar & Hearth Bakery.**

My bakery. The words still felt unreal, for years I'd worked in other people's kitchens, for other people's businesses, making others people's dreams come true, and I had my own.

The realization should have made me excited. Instead, it made me feel slightly sick.

"You've got that look again." I glanced sideways. Grandma stood beside me with her hands tucked into the pockets of her cardigan. At seventy-three years old, Margaret Bennett was approximately five feet of pure stubbornness.

"What look?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. She studied me for a second before a knowing smile tugged at her lips. "The one that says you're overthinking." I let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'm opening a business."

"You bake." She gave a small shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You've been baking since you were ten."

"That's different." I laughed. "Not really." She again shrugged. I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. "You're unbelievably supportive." She grinned, completely unapologetic, "You're welcome."

Despite my nerves, I smiled because she wasn't wrong. I could do this. I'd spent years dreaming about having my own bakery. Years imagining it, planning, saving for it, and then life had happened. The heartbreak, change, and unexpected opportunities.

A move to a town I'd never planned on staying in and somehow I'd ended up here, standing outside my own bakery. Maybe Grandma was right, I was overthinking.

"Come on," she said. "Before you talk yourself out of it." I laughed, and followed her inside.

---

The first customer arrived ten minutes after opening, the second arrived five minutes later. After that, the day became a blur, with coffee, pastries, introductions, and lots of questions.

So many questions, people seemed genuinely excited about the bakery. A few admitted they'd been watching the renovation for weeks. One older gentleman informed me he'd volunteered himself as chief taste tester.

Twice.

By lunchtime, half the cinnamon rolls were gone, the coffee machine hadn't stopped and for the first time all day, I relaxed. Maybe this would work, and I'd finally found somewhere I belonged.

The bell above the door chimed. I glanced up, a teenage girl stood in the doorway, her blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail, green eyes, and a confident posture. The kind of confidence that came naturally rather than being performed.

She looked around the bakery slowly, taking everything in, not shy or nervous. Just curious, and for some reason, I liked her immediately.

"Hi." Her green eyes landed on me. "Hi." She didn't say anything else. Instead, she glanced around the bakery, taking everything in. I waited a beat before laughing softly. "Good 'hi' or bad 'hi'?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Undecided." That made me grin. "Fair." She wandered over to the display case, studying each tray with surprising concentration before pointing decisively. "The brownies." I followed her finger and smiled. "Good choice."

"I know." She smirked. I chuckled. "Already judging my bakery?" She looked back at me, completely unfazed. "If you're opening a bakery, you should expect people to judge it."

I tilted my head, pretending to consider her point. "You make a compelling argument." A hint of pride crossed her face. "I've been told that."

"By adults?" She nodded. "Mostly." I laughed, shaking my head. "I believe it."

For some reason, I liked her more with every answer. I stepped around the counter and held out my hand. "I'm Harper."

She looked at it for a second before slipping her smaller hand into mine. "Lola."

"It's nice to meet you, Lola." She looked up at me and grinned wide. "You too." As our hands fell away, her gaze drifted around the bakery one last time. A small smile appeared on her face.

"I like it." Relief settled in my chest. "Coming from my toughest critic, I'll take that."

The simple honesty of the statement warmed me more than all the compliments I'd received that morning because she meant it, no politeness or obligation, just honesty. I smiled. "I'm glad."

---

Half an hour later, Lola was still there, not because I was entertaining her because she'd claimed a table by the front window and spread out schoolbooks. Apparently deciding my bakery was suitable for homework. I found myself smiling every time I looked over, she seemed comfortable, like she'd simply decided she belonged there.

The bell above the door chimed again, a woman stepped inside, with honey-brown hair, the same green eyes as Lola, and a warm smile.

The kind of woman who immediately put people at ease, the moment she entered, Lola looked up. "Hi, Aunt Cleo." Aunt, that explained the eyes.

"There you are." Lola glanced up, looking completely unconcerned, "I told Grandma where I was."

"That doesn't count," Cleo replied, arching an eyebrow as she folded her arms across her chest.

"It should."

"It doesn't."

I bit back a laugh, Cleo's gaze flicked to me, catching the smile I was trying to hide. "Sorry," I said, holding up my hands in surrender. The corners of her mouth lifted despite herself, and she walked over and held out her hand. "I'm Cleo." I shook it. "Harper."

A warm smile spread across her face. "Welcome to Creek Wood." The sincerity in her voice surprised me because she genuinely meant it. Before I could answer, the bakery door burst opened, two boys came tearing through the front door, identical in every way except for the grin one wore that looked just a little more mischievous than the other's.

Cleo laughed, shaking her head. "Harper, meet Reid and Jacob. They're twins, and if they're together, there's usually trouble not far behind." Both boys beamed as if she'd just paid them the highest compliment.

The twins Reid and Jacob, started talking over each other,

"Cupcakes!"

"Cookies!"

Cleo immediately closed her eyes. "No." Both boys looked personally offended. "But Mom—"

"No."

"Mom—"

"No."

I laughed, and the twins immediately turned toward me. Apparently deciding I looked easier to convince. I laughed, I wasn't. A second later another teenager entered, dark hair, dark eyes, about Lola's age. He looked completely unsurprised by the chaos unfolding around him.

"Found them." Tommy folded his arms and shot them a mock glare. The twins pointed dramatically. "Tommy!"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "You disappeared again."

"We were running"

"You were hiding."

"We were running while hiding."

I laughed. Tommy sighed. "You'll get used to them."

"I'm beginning to realize that."

The twins looked proud of themselves, which probably wasn't a good sign.

---

The next hour passed quickly, customers came and went, the twins attempted to negotiate for cupcakes six separate times. Tommy eventually distracted them with cookies.

Cleo stayed for coffee and Lola remained exactly where she'd started, working on homework, watching people, and occasionally helping me carry empty plates back to the counter.

By three o'clock, the bakery no longer felt new, it felt comfortable, lived in, warm, like I belonged. The realization settled quietly in my chest, maybe this really had been the right decision, and I'd finally found somewhere I could stay.

As the afternoon sun streamed through the front windows, Lola packed away her schoolbooks. "You open tomorrow?"

I laughed. "I am."

"Good." The answer came so quickly it caught me off guard.

Tommy looked up from his cookie. "Are there brownies tomorrow?"

"There can be." I smiled. "We'll be here." Tommy and the twins said in unison. Cleo shook her head. "You three are impossible."

The twins nodded enthusiastically. "We are." That earned groans from everyone, including me, though I couldn't stop smiling. As they gathered their things, Lola slung her backpack over one shoulder, then paused by the counter.

"I'll come back tomorrow."

For reasons I couldn't explain, the thought made me unexpectedly happy. I smiled. "I'll be here."

Something brightened in her expression, a small smile, real and unguarded. Then she nodded. "See you tomorrow, Harper."

I watched them leave, the bell jingled above the door. The bakery suddenly felt quieter, not empty, just quieter. I glanced toward the table by the window at the spot where Lola had spent most of the afternoon and found myself smiling.

For the first time since arriving in Creek Wood, I wasn't thinking about everything I'd left behind. I was thinking about tomorrow and somehow, that felt like the beginning of something good.