Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Forty-Five.

Being home was liberating. It's one of those things where you didn't realize how much you missed something until it was right in front of you again. I never thought I would miss the bone chilling winter of London, or even the accents that everyone spoke with. It was safe to say that I missed the little things most of all.

As the week went on, I practically followed the same routine. I woke up to the smell of bacon, cooked by my father, and ate a huge breakfast with my family and soon to be family. I liked Evelyn. She was nice and not the least but pushy. She asked questions, but didn't get offended when I avoided them. She would just give me a warm smile and continue on with the conversation. I surprisingly even started to grow a liking to Will. He was rather quiet, but when he did say something the comeback made up for his quietness.

The ache of missing Lily was dulling with every day I spent at home. Sure, I missed her like hell, and every day I thought about turning my twelve day trip into an eight day one, but hearing her voice through a phone every night was enough to get me through another day. She had caught on to Ashton's constant visits- lily wasn't an idiot, and I knew she'd catch on- and she threw a fit about it, but his reassuring texts hushed my worrying for a little while. Everyone listened to me ramble on and on about her, and they seemed to like her just from what I said about her.

When I used to live in London with my father, I took up a part time job at his bakery. Working there was one of the things I actually enjoyed. It wasn't because I got paid, or even because I got free pastries. It was because of the little old women that worked there that always seemed way too happy to see me.

My favorite was Barbara. She used to tell me about her life in Germany as she rolled dough and I mopped the floors. She had a new story every day.

My father took me back to that bakery on the fifth day. I spent the majority of the twenty minute car ride wiping my sweaty palms over the fabric of my black jeans. The anticipation of going back to the bakery after all this time was making my stomach churn. I had gotten a few tattoos since the last time I was there, and I could already hear Barbara's voice giving me grief for "ruining my skin".

"Barbara's going to be thrilled to see you," my father said when we stopped at one of the stop signs. I looked over at him. He was bundled in a large coat and leather clothes covered his hands.

"I can't believe she's even still there. How old is she now? Like seventy, yeah?" I wondered.

"Seventy- two actually. Just turned a couple weeks ago."

"She should be at home," I sighed. "Not making cakes all day."

"She refuses to retire," he said simply, shrugging as he turned a corner. Snow started to fall in thick, fat flakes against the windshield leaving splatters of wetness all across the glass. "Ever since her husband died, she's spent most of her time at the bakery. She says she loves it but I think she uses the work to keep herself busy.

The rest of the ride to the bakery was silent besides the classical music that flowed through the speakers. I took a deep breath before opening the door of the bakery. The warm, crisp air hit my frozen cheeks first, and the delicious smell of baked sweets followed. A bell went off as I stepped into the place.

There was a young girl standing at the cash register, staring at me with her mouth open slightly. I didn't wait for my father to follow behind me as I made my way to the counter.

The girl had dark brown hair and a slight monobrow, and her stare was starting to make me rather uncomfortable. I cleared my throat, and she nearly knocked over the tip jar trying to collect herself.

"How can we- how are you- how can I help you?" She stuttered, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red as she stared at the wooden floor.

The bell rang again, and I didn't even need to turn around to know that it was my father.