Chapter 107 CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

Chapter 107 CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

ASHER

Inside, the bakery was warmer and quieter than the sidewalk chaos suggested. Butter, sugar, and roasted coffee hung in the air. Most of the noise stayed trapped near the main counter; back here, it almost felt private.
Jay spotted me immediately.
“Well, look who finally decided to show his face,” he said, already grinning as he wiped his hands on a towel. “I was starting to think New York forgot about me.”
“Missed you too,” I said.
He pulled me into a brief, solid one-armed hug, clapping my shoulder hard enough to be affectionate without turning soft. “You’ve gotten taller. Or I’m shrinking. Either way, I don’t like it.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m observant.” His eyes shifted past me and landed on Avery. Interest sparked immediately, curious and open. “And you brought company.”
Avery stiffened half a step behind me.
Jay’s smile widened. “Is she your…?” He let the question hang, complete with a far too obvious wink.
I laughed. “No. No.”
Behind me, under her breath, Avery muttered, “So you can deny it now.”
I ignored that. Mostly.
Jay extended a hand toward her, still warm, still shameless. “And her name is…?”
Avery hesitated for the briefest second.
“Emery,” I said.
Jay’s expression brightened. “Emery. Pretty name. Welcome. Any friend of Asher’s is already one good decision ahead of most people who walk through that door.”
“Thank you,” she said politely, though her eyes flicked to me with residual irritation.
Jay waved us farther in. “Your box is almost ready. Chocolate chip, yes? I had them set aside the second you called.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Of course you do. You only remember I exist when you want cookies.”
“That’s not true. I came in here last night”
“But you didn’t ask for me. So yeah, you always remember me when you want unavailable cookies” 
The easy rhythm of it settled around us quickly. Jay asked about school, about whether I was still wasting talent on people who didn’t deserve it, about whether I was eating properly or surviving on caffeine and arrogance. I answered without thinking too hard. Fine. Busy. Managing. The usual half-truths that kept conversations moving without inviting inspection.
Then he wiped his hands again and asked, lighter but not light enough,
“And your mom? How are things there?”
“Fine,” I said.
Jay studied me for a second longer than the answer deserved. “Are you two still not talking?”
The question landed with quiet precision.
Before I could answer, he glanced at Avery, seemed to think better of the setting, and tipped his head toward the back.
“Come here a second.”
He guided me a few steps away, just far enough that the clatter of trays and low customer noise gave us a thin layer of privacy. Avery remained near the counter, suddenly very interested in a display she clearly did not care about.
Jay’s voice dropped.
“I’m asking because I care,” he said. “Not because I’m trying to corner you. But ‘fine’ has been your answer for two years, and it still doesn’t sound any truer.”
I exhaled through my nose. “It’s complicated.”
“Family usually is.” His eyes softened, though the concern stayed. “You’re still alone in that apartment?”
“I like the quiet.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
I didn’t answer.
Jay let the silence sit for a moment, then patted my shoulder once. “Alright. I won’t push with your girl standing ten feet away.”
“She’s not my girl.”
Jay gave me a look that was pure disbelief. “Sure. And I’m old, not dumb. I can feel tension from across a room, Asher. You’ve been hovering around her like you’re trying not to look like you’re hovering. She looks at you like she’s deciding whether to hit you or follow you. And you—” he gestured vaguely between me and the counter, “—brought a girl here. To my bakery. Then ordered chocolate chip.”
I frowned slightly. “So?”
“So that’s not your order,” he said. “You’ve been a dark chocolate and sea salt person since you were fourteen. Suddenly you’re calling ahead for chocolate chip like you’ve developed a whole new personality? Please.”
“She’s not my girl,” I repeated.
Jay shrugged, already done humoring the denial. “Whatever.”
He leaned back against the steel prep table, arms folding loosely, and the humor in his face dimmed into something more careful.
“About your mom,” he said.
I felt my shoulders tighten before I could stop them.
“You’ve shut her out for more than two years now,” Jay continued. “I know what happened when your dad died was messy. I know it got ugly. People said things they can’t take back, and some of them maybe shouldn’t be taken back. I’m not telling you to pretend none of it happened.” He paused, choosing his words with more care than usual. “But disappearing isn’t the same thing as protecting yourself. At some point, silence stops being a boundary and starts being a wound you keep reopening just to prove it still hurts.”
I stared at a scuff mark on the floor.
“She’s still your mother,” he said more quietly. “And whether you’re ready to forgive anything or not, carrying that freeze between you forever is going to cost you more than it costs her. You’re young, Asher. You shouldn’t already be this good at cutting people out and calling it strength.”
The words landed heavier than I wanted them to.
For a second, the bakery noise around us felt farther away. Trays. Voices. The low hum of the oven. All of it muted under the pressure of a conversation I had successfully avoided with almost everyone else.
I exhaled.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll reach out.”
Jay’s eyebrows lifted slightly, clearly not expecting even that much.
“I still talk to Oliver and I asked him about her” I added. “She’s fine.”
He studied me for a long moment, like he was trying to decide whether to call that answer insufficient out loud. In the end, he only nodded once.
“Oliver’s a good kid,” he said. “Doesn’t mean the rest of it is handled.”
“I said I’d reach out.”
“I heard you.” A faint smile returned to his mouth, smaller this time. “I’m holding you to it.”
He pushed off the table and tipped his head toward the counter. “Come on. Before your not-girlfriend decides I’ve kidnapped you for a life lecture.”
I followed him back toward the front, jaw still tight, the weight of the conversation sitting uncomfortably under my ribs.
Avery looked up as we returned, eyes moving from Jay to me with quiet curiosity she didn’t bother hiding well enough.
I took the box from Jay’s hands.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he said, then added, just for me, “Talk to her.”
I didn’t ask which her he meant.
I had a feeling he didn’t mean only one.