Sweet Temptation
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Merra Gischan
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8,0M
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116
Flour, Fire, And Shattered Dream.
CHLOE
THE SWEETS CAKESHOP
The scent of warm cinnamon and rising dough curled around me like a hug. My hands worked quickly, kneading a stubborn batch of brioche with the kind of practiced ease only muscle memory could grant. Morning sunlight poured through the bakery windows, scattering gold across the flour-dusted countertops and illuminating the hum of early customers.
This placeâSweets Cakeshopâwas my dream. A dream built on coffee-fueled nights, spreadsheets I didnât understand at first, and a bank loan that still made my palms sweat. But it was real. Alive. And for the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.
The bell above the front door jingled again. I glanced up, scanning for my sister.
Where is Melanie?
Missing, again?
I wiped my hands on a towel, sighing. âWhere is sheâŠâ I muttered under my breath, pushing through the swinging kitchen door to the shop floor.
The small bakery was buzzingânothing overwhelming, just the cozy chaos of regulars asking for their usuals, couples lingering over coffee, and that one guy who always asked if the croissants were âauthentically Parisian.â I offered him a tight smile and headed for the back.
Melanie wasnât behind the counter or anywhere in the room.
A strange prickle crawled up my spine as I crossed to the utility roomâbarely more than a glorified closet at the back of the shop.
I didnât knock.
I should have.
There they wereâMelanie, pinned against the wall, laughing breathlessly as Scott Kingston, her current boyfriend, kissed a path down her neck.
I froze.
âOh my gosh--!â I hissed, turning away, cheeks burning. âSeriously?â
Melanie pulled away, breathless but unashamed. âChlo, itâs not what it looks like!â
I shot her a glare over my shoulder. âMel, itâs exactly what it looks like. Weâre slammed out there.â
Scott had the decency to look sheepish. Melanie, on the other hand, just adjusted her shirt and shrugged. âYouâve got it handled.â
I didnât reply. I couldnât. Because this was the difference between us. Melanie always had a boyfriend. Always found someone to distract her. I, on the other hand, had only had one real relationshipâmy college ex. And after him, Iâd decided that heartbreak wasnât something I wanted to taste twice.
I walked out before I said something I couldnât take back.
Later That Night â My Apartment
I was relishing a rare moment of silence, finally curled up on the couch in my tiny apartment a few blocks from the shop.
A mug of lukewarm chamomile tea rested beside me, long forgotten. My body ached in the way that only a day of early mornings and nonstop baking could bring. But I didnât mind. I loved it.
This little life Iâd builtâflour-stained, chaotic, and mine.
The ringtone shattered my peace.
I blinked at the unfamiliar number, then picked up. âHello?â
âMiss Chloe Sweets?â a womanâs voice asked.
âYes, this is she.â
âIâm calling from Stanton Hospitalââ
The world shifted under my feet. The words blurred together after that.
Melanie. Accident. Hospital. I needed to come, now.
I barely remembered changing clothes or racing down to the curb to hail a cab. My fingers trembled as I texted one of my friends. My heart thudded louder than the sirens on the street.
When I reached the emergency room, breathless and wide-eyed, a nurse met me at the desk.
âIâm here for Melanie Sweets. Iâm her sister. Chloe.â
âRoom 520. Iâll walk you there,â the nurse said gently, signaling a colleague to take her place.
âIs she okay?â I asked, my voice cracking. âPleaseâjust tell me sheâs okay.â
âSheâs going to be fine,â the nurse assured me as we walked down the hallway. âJust some scrapes. Sheâs stable now.â
Relief almost made my knees give outâuntil I saw the two uniformed police officers waiting outside the room.
Officers.
Something else was wrong.
I introduced myself quickly, and the taller oneâTateânodded solemnly. âMiss Sweets, your sister and her boyfriend, Scott Kingston, were involved in a crash earlier tonight.â
I frowned. âA crash? Where?â
The officers exchanged a grim look.
âAt your bakery.â
The world froze.
âIâI donât understand. At Sweets Cakeshop?â My voice came out barely above a whisper.
âYes, maâam,â said Officer Brandon. âThey were both intoxicated. Mr. Scott was driving the van. He lost control and hit the storefront.â
My stomach dropped.
âUpon impact,â he continued, âa fire ignited near the main gas line. It escalated into a full explosion. Thankfully, both were pulled from the vehicle before it blew.â
Explosion.
The word echoed like a siren in my head. My breath caught. I couldnât even speakâjust stared.
âWeâre very sorry,â Officer Tate added. âSomeone from the court will be in touch with them when theyâve recovered. But for now, you donât need to worry about the legal steps.â
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
My bakeryâmy dreamâgone?
And Melanie...
The nurse cleared her throat gently. âThereâs more. During the interview, while gathering information, she mentioned that her period was late. With her consent, we ran a testâand we discovered that Ms. Melanie is pregnant. Sheâs seven weeks along.â
I blinked. âPregnant?â My voice sounded foreign to my own ears. âDid she⊠did she know?â
âShe knows now.â
âHow about my sisterâs boyfriend? IâI mean, Scott.â I swallowed hard. âIs he⊠is he going to be okay?â
âTheyâre monitoring him closely. He should pull through,â the nurse said gently.
When I stepped into the hospital room, my sister looked so fragile. Scraped up, face pale, eyes red from crying.
âChloeâŠâ Melanieâs voice cracked. âIâm so sorry.â
My throat tightened. I wanted to scream, to demand answersâbut all I could do was walk forward and sit on the edge of the bed.
âWhat matters is that youâre alive.â
Melanie burst into tears. âThe shopâI ruined it. We worked so hard.â
âDonât.â I held up a hand, my voice firm. âNot now. Donât talk about the shop.â
âThey said⊠Iâm pregnant.â
âI know.â My jaw clenched. âDid Scott know?â
âThey said heâs still unconscious, but theyâll tell him. Iâll go to him once I feel better too.â
Silence stretched between us, thick and aching. I looked at herâreally looked. And it hit me all over again, how young she still was. How much of the world she thought she could outrun.
God, she reminded me of Mom. The recklessness, the big feelings, the belief that everything would work out somehow, even when the odds said otherwise.
âHow many second chances do you think we get, Mel?â I said quietly. âDo you even remember what it was like, that night they died?â
Her eyes flicked to mine, guilt twisting her features.
âYou remember. Donât tell me you donât.â
She blinked fast. âI remember.â
âOur parents didnât die in their sleep. It wasnât peaceful. It wasnât fair. It was some idiot running a red light and not thinking it through. One second. Thatâs all it took. One moment of not caring enough.â
I swallowed hard, forcing the heat in my throat back down.
âAnd youâyouâre doing the same thing. Crashing through life like itâll all just catch you.â
âAre you mad?â Melanie asked.
âI justâŠâ I exhaled, my voice raw. âI wish youâd stop being so damn reckless. Just once. Think before you jump. Think about me. About yourself. About your baby now, too.â
âIâll change. I swear.â
I stared at her for a long moment. âYouâll have to.â
I squeezed her hand gently before standing. âRest. Iâll check on the damage.â
As I walked out of the hospital room, I didnât bother holding back the tears. They slipped quietly down my cheeks, burning hot.
The bakery was gone.
My sister was pregnant.
And once again, Iâthe younger oneâwas left to pick up the pieces.
