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Laura narrows her eyes. “That question feels invasive.”

“More than ten?”

“Blair.”

“Fourteen?”

Laura tucks the bottle more securely under her arm. “Some things are private.”

“You’re the one carrying evidence.”

“Then stop asking questions.”

Within seconds, my kitchen transforms from quiet to full of people and conversation.

Tom hands his bag to Locke, then notices the fresh green willow threaded across his chest.

“You did that yourself?”

“Yes.”

Tom leans closer without touching. “That’s good work.”

“Thank you.”

The compliment pleases Locke so obviously that I smile.

The kitchen is full of activity. Janet opens a box of pastries, Blair hands out coffee, and Tom keeps pulling food from the bags until my counter looks like we’re feeding twice as many people as are actually here.

Locke gives Janet his chair and leans against the counter. Then he reaches over and turns two pastries so they line up with the others.

Shannon catches him. “Did you just organize the pastries?”

“They were uneven.”

“They’re pastries.”

“Yes.”

Shannon deliberately turns one of the pastries sideways. Locke looks at it, then at her as she keeps a completely innocent expression. Without a word, Locke reaches over and turns the pastry back into line.

Tom hides his reaction behind his coffee.

For a while, nobody talks about Trent, the festival, lawyers, reporters, or what almost happened yesterday. We eat in my overcrowded kitchen while Shannon wages war on pastry symmetry.

My phone pings on the counter.

I almost ignore it. Then I see Aaron’s name.

“Apparently our one peaceful breakfast was too much to ask for.”

Shannon groans. “What now?”

I pick up the phone and read the message. “Aaron says Trent was charged with domestic assault for grabbing me and assault for hitting Locke.”

Locke looks at me. “Because he broke my chest?”

“Yes.”