My mind flashes back for a second. To the long days and endless hours trying to make something of ourselves. To this being our only hope, our only chance to be the men we saw in each other when our own parents didn’t or couldn’t see it themselves. The laughs we had on this beach. The memories. The arguments. The baring of our souls to one another. BENT was forged in this sand.

Funny how a woman who isn’t supposed to be a part of my life but now very much is, made me see that.

“You went quiet there for a second,” she says, knocking her knee against mine. “Where’d you go?”

“To back when the only thing I ever had was dreams.”

“Dreams are good,” she murmurs and rests her head on my shoulder.

“They definitely are.” I pause. “So tell me about yours. Why a bakery? Why cookies? Why that instead of, I don’t know, becoming some famous pastry chef or whatever?”

“I like the quiet.”

I snort. “Cookie, I hate to break it to you, but I think you married the wrong guy then.”

Her body shakes with a soft laugh.

“Clearly.” She exhales slowly. “I liked being by myself as a kid. My mom and her husband at the time fought a lot. He was fond of the bottom of the bottle and that led to some pretty horrific fights. Going into the kitchen, putting music on and creating something was my way of shutting out the noise until he sobered up. I also wasn’t his, and I always felt like I didn’t belong anywhere, but in the kitchen, I was in charge. I could create and get mad at my imaginary helpers.” She chuckles. “And then when I walked into the family room with whatever design I had made at the time, it forced them to abandon their bickering and praise me instead. Kind of self-absorbing and prolonging the inevitable divorce when it all came down to it, but when you’re younger, you’re only thinking about the here and now.”

“So they ended up divorcing?”

She nods. “It was for the best. They split. My mom was finally happy again and the fighting stopped. He moved on to a new wife, a new life, and while I wasn’t exactly a big fan of his, I was jealous that I didn’t have a ‘real’ family. One I could bring home friends to after school without having to explain why I didn’t have a dad. That kind of thing.”