Sweet Cravings

Chapter One – The Weight of Whispers

Montana

Bri

The prairie stretched endlessly beneath a sky so blue it hurt to look at. Bri Carson knelt at her husband’s grave, fingertips trembling as they traced the letters carved into sun-warmed marble. Cicadas hummed in the distance, and somewhere far off, a meadowlark sang—a sound that always reminded her of summer.

“Well, here we are, my darling—another year without you.” Her voice cracked, soft as wind through cottonwoods. “Three years since I last saw your smile. God, Jax, I miss you.”

She brushed away a tear and glanced at the small photograph tucked beside the headstone—Jax cradling their newborn daughter, Sky, against the backdrop of the Beartooth Range. Wildflowers spilled from the pot she’d just placed, their colours bright against the dusty earth.

“Sky’s grown so much this year,” Bri whispered, her throat tight. “She’s dramatic—must get that from you. Every day she looks more like you. It still hurts, knowing you had so little time together. But I promise, I’ll keep your memory alive for her.”

A soft chuckle escaped as she adjusted the flowers, gravel crunching under her boots. Overhead, a hawk circled lazily in the heat shimmer.

“I had another argument with your mother yesterday,” she murmured, bitterness curling like smoke. “She saw me laughing with Pete down at the butcher’s and called me a harlot. In front of the feed store.”

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of the town’s judgment, heavier than any winter snow. She kissed her fingers and pressed them to the stone, the warmth of the marble lingering against her skin.

“I don’t know how much more I can take, love. This place is full of rules and whispers. I’m the grieving widow, the single mother—the girl who never belonged.”

She kissed her fingers once more and laid them gently on the stone.

“I’ll always love you, Jaxon Carson. You are my strength. I’ll see you next week.”

As Bri walked back to her dusty pickup, the heat shimmered off the two-lane highway. Thunderheads were building over the Crazy Mountains—a promise of an evening storm. Something was stuck to the windscreen—a pink and yellow flyer. She was about to toss it when an advert caught her eye:

Orchard Summer Fayre – Comfort Isle, Massachusetts.

She frowned, muttering, “Where the hell is that?” But as she slid behind the wheel, the thought lingered, stubborn and sweet—like the smell of warm bread.

She drove into town and parked outside the diner. Through the window, she saw her daughter Sky gabbling excitedly to her godmother, Bri’s best friend Gem.

Gem had been her anchor since childhood—the girl who shared peanut butter sandwiches on the school bus, who held her hand through heartbreaks and hospital waiting rooms. When Bri lost Jax, Gem was the one who showed up with casseroles and fierce hugs, who sat on the porch with her night after night, saying nothing because words weren’t enough. They had weathered every storm together—grief, gossip, and the grinding weight of small-town life.

Bri chuckled as she got out of the truck and pushed open the door. The room fell quiet, like she’d stepped into somewhere private.

Pasting on a smile, she greeted a table of ladies, who returned uncomfortable smiles—almost as if being kind to her was dangerous.

She’d always felt like an outsider here—even before Jax died. The whispers had followed her since childhood, and now, as a single mother, they were louder than ever.

As she approached Sky and Gem’s booth, a small voice piped up, “Mama, you bwack! See Dadda?”

She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Yes, baby, I went to see Dadda.” She sent Gem a grin. “Has she been good for Aunty Gemmy?”

Gem pinched Sky’s cheek. “We’ve had so much fun—park swings, chocolate for sad mamas, and now lunch with the busybody table glaring at us.”

She shot the table a sugary smile. “You’d think after three years of us coming here for Sunday lunch, they’d get over it. But no—they sit there with their judgment and your mother-in-law’s whispers in their ears.”

Bri chuckled at her friend’s rant. Gem rolled her eyes and pinned a woman with a death stare. “Are they really so scared of one woman that they lose the will to think for themselves?”

Gem had always been Bri’s shield—the one who spoke the words Bri couldn’t, who turned sharp edges into laughter. When Bri broke, Gem stitched her back together with stubborn loyalty and late-night talks over wine. If Bri was the quiet strength, Gem was the wildfire—bright, unapologetic, and fiercely protective.

While waiting for food, Bri pulled the flyer from her bag. “This was on my windscreen at the cemetery.”

Gem scanned it. “Oooh, summer fayre—sounds fun. Orchard Park? Never heard of Comfort Isle.”

Bri shook her head, opening the map app. Within seconds, pictures of a stunning harbour filled her screen.

“Wow, it’s in Massachusetts. Why would they put flyers out here? We’re a million miles away.” But the more she scrolled, the more she wanted to see.

Gem snatched the phone, oohing and aahing. “Oh my, Bri—it looks amazing. I can almost taste the salt in the air. You know it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to get away for a bit, a little girly getaway.”

Bri lifted an eyebrow, “I don’t know Gem, the way Valarie acts if I buy extra soft toilet paper, what would she be like if I spent Jax’s money on a trip?”

Gem snorted and scowled at the busybodies listening at the next table. “Your money! It’s your money Brianne. You and Jax both worked hard all through collage and after, you were the head chef at Malones for fluffs sake, you both paid for the insurance, you both saved your money so you could stay home once Sky was here, and you know what?”

She glared across the room, making sure the ladies were listening, which they were. “You took out a mortgage on your grans house to pay off the second mortgage Vivian had taken out but couldn’t pay back, and you are still paying it, so if anyone is spending her son’s money, and taking it from his child it’s her.”

The gasps from across the room made them turn, the women were all sitting with their jaws on the floor, Gem smirked, “I guess Vician never told you, her best friend, that huh, it’s public record go check for yourselves.”

After lunch, they drove home. Bri stood in front of the farmhouse that had been her granny’s. She’d grown up here, and when her granny passed, she and Jax called it home.

Gem kissed Sky and hugged Bri before crossing the road to her mama’s house. They’d been best friends since birth—through every high and low. Bri couldn’t imagine life without her, and yet, lately, even Gem’s laughter couldn’t drown out the ache of wanting more.

Later that evening, after Sky was asleep, Bri couldn’t stop thinking about Comfort Isle. Opening her laptop, she pulled up the website.

Three hours vanished in a blur of ads and pictures. It was so different from here—a place for dreams and new beginnings.

Her phone beeped.

Gem: I’m obsessed. Can’t stop reading about Comfort. Even stalking the town on Doodle Map!

Bri grinned, glad she wasn’t alone.

Bri: Me too. This place is getting to me. Starting to think the grass is greener somewhere else.

The dots danced as Gem typed.

Gem: I know what you mean. It can’t be as idyllic as it seems, can it? But maybe we could find out. Sky would love the ocean. The Fayre’s the last Saturday of August—three weeks away.

Bri stared at the message. Could they go?

Bri: I don’t know, Gem. What would people think?

Gem: Come on, Bri. It’s not like we’re never coming back. It’s just a vacation.

All night those words ran through Bri’s head—It’s just a vacation—until sunlight crept through her window. She sat up, grabbed her phone, and typed:

Bri: Let’s do it