A New Leaf (Hemlock #1)

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Charlie

A loud yawn breaks free from me as I look over at my phone and notice it’s 8 p.m. Leaning back in my office chair, I look around; the backroom of A New Leaf is still filled to the brim with my parents’ things. It’s like a time capsule in this office—photos of my siblings on the wall, the first dollar bill they made, random posters of botanicals that have begun to yellow with age.

I love it. It feels like a hug from beyond the grave whenever I’m in this room. Sometimes, when I’m overwhelmed by the store’s chaos, I’ll flip the sign to “Closed” and sit here for a few minutes to allow myself to calm down.

My eyes blur with tears as I reflect on the last time I hugged my parents. It was a week before they passed. We were all together for a family dinner. On the outside, you’d assume I hated the silly weekly dinners. On the inside, I loved them.

My parents knew I loved them by the subtle glances they gave me at dinner and how my mom would always have my favorite dessert at the ready. Dinner was always chaotic, with Joey rambling on about her travels, my dad talking about his new propagated plants, Jack telling stories about his foolish employees, and my mom spilling the town gossip while Vera snored underneath the table.

Crazy how things can change so fast.

So fast that my head still can’t wrap itself around their death almost a year later.

Vera’s loud snore pulls me from my deep thoughts. I should get home and get some sleep. I know that the second my head hits that pillow my brain will decide it’s time to kick into overdrive, causing me to toss and turn all night long until the sun peeks through the curtains.

With my lack of sleep, I’m starting to believe these dark purple circles under my eyes are taking up permanent residency.

Releasing a deep sigh, I gaze down at Vera, who remains curled up, completely sound asleep with her head resting on my foot. What many people don’t mention about grief is that animals can experience it just as much.

A few months after my parents died, my siblings and I decided to go through some of their clothes. We made a donation pile on their basement floor and, once we were done, we saw Vera snuggling on top of a massive pile of their clothes.

As expected, we all started sobbing and decided to just leave the pile as is for her. Joey decided to sew a blanket out of some of their old shirts, which Vera adores so much that she’ll even carry it with her around the house. A few times, she’s been snuggled up with her blanket and in such a deep sleep that her tail wags. I imagine she’s dreaming about playing fetch with my parents on a warm, sunny, summer day in a wide-open field.

Some people would say, “She’s just a dog! She’ll get over it!” To which I would reply they can kindly fuck off and that dogs, just like humans, experience grief. Every day, I do what I can to help ease her sadness a bit. Whether that’s taking her to the store with me, feeding her part of my sandwich, or showering her in so much love that she’ll want to run away from me.

Still looking at her peaceful face, I hear a soft knock at the store’s front door. Vera looks so content that I don’t want to move my foot. Hopefully, the knocking will go away. I wonder if someone thought the store was open since I left some of the lights on.

Another knock, with a bit more force, follows moments later.

Okay, this is annoying . Who is out this late? Everyone in this town has the early bird special and is in bed by 6 p.m.

I carefully extract my foot out from under Vera’s head and she makes a faint little groan. Glancing over at my trusty 5-iron, I grab the club and pick up a potted plant on my way to the front door.

You never know when the club may not be enough and you’ll need reinforcements.

Not that a plant will help at all, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Once I’m near the door, I see someone turning to leave.

That someone is Finn.

I unlock the door, and he turns around and smiles, casually walking back to me with Frank by his side.

“You know, we have to stop meeting like this,” he says, eyeing my golf club. “I really need to know the story behind the golf club. Why a 5-iron?” Then he glances at the plant in my other hand and points. “Were you going to chuck that at my head, too? Damn. I’ll need you on my team if a war breaks out in this town.”

I, unsuccessfully, fight a smile and roll my eyes at him. Without saying anything, I drop my club and use my hip to open the door wider. Finn’s bright eyes sharpen with interest as they trace the curve of my hip. Clearing my throat in the hope of redirecting his gaze to my face, I motion for them to enter with a quick tilt of my head. A blush rises on his cheeks and up to the tip of his ears when he realizes his lack of subtlety. Adjusting his glasses that slipped down his nose, Finn whistles for his faithful pup, who enters the room first. When Finn follows, his hand touches my hip briefly as I stand in the doorway—even though there’s more than enough room for him to get by.

My pulse picks up for a fraction of a second at the slight bit of contact.

It probably wasn’t intentional, and I’m most likely overanalyzing the touch.

As he retreats to the back of the store, I can still feel the warm pressure of his hand on my hip. I swallow nervously, shifting my eyes to his back. My eyes linger on his incredibly tall frame, which makes his perfectly tailored peacoat look downright indecent on his body. Sensing my stare, Finn’s deep blue eyes meet mine and he flashes me a devastating smirk over his shoulder.

A smirk that’s paired with those obnoxiously attractive dimples.

My heart slowly hammers in my chest, and I realize that the brush of his strong hand on my hip was most definitely intentional.

There’s a battle in my brain between being mildly annoyed and mildly turned on by that simple gesture. After steadying my breath, I finally shut the door behind me. The clicking of the lock echoes throughout the quiet store as I trail behind Finn.

The store lights create a warm, calming ambiance throughout the space. Bright lights give me a major headache, so whenever I’m here late, I turn down the lighting. With Finn here, it feels less calming and more . . . romantic.

Internally, I groan.

Vera strolls up to Frank and swishes her large tail. Frank senses her, and now his little nub of a tail is fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. These two are soulmates who must’ve met in a past life.

I want to hate it, but it’s really fucking cute.

Finn is standing at the front of the store with excellent posture, looking as tall and handsome as ever. Glancing around the shop with curious eyes, Finn focuses on a cactus. His hand inches slowly toward the plant.

“Seriously? Do not touch that. Are you five? You’ll poke yourself,” I scold.

He startles and puts his hands in his pockets.

Why are men idiots sometimes?

“You know, I’m starting to wonder if you’re magnetized to my store since you keep popping in.” I pull a stool from behind the counter and motion for him to sit.

“You’re the one that had the light on. I just assumed that was your ‘Finn Signal.’” He shrugs, plopping down on the seat. Those long legs stretch out below the counter so that his feet are now encroaching on my side.

I narrow my eyes. “Cute.” I sit opposite him; my arms rest on the counter while my body subconsciously leans closer to him. With my feet firmly planted on the ground, Finn shifts so that his long legs surround mine.

He bites his lip, holding back a laugh. “My mom thinks so.”

“At least someone does,” I deadpan.

“Rude.”

“You’ll get over it.”

With matching serious looks, our eyes lock. Unable to hold back, smiles break free on our faces. Our laughter carries through the store, creating a safe bubble surrounding us. In this moment, it feels like we are the only two people in existence.

Dammit. I think I like him.

He’s charming, he has a cute dog, and he makes incredible hot chocolate. He’s not smart with cacti, but I think I can overlook that.

With my arms folded, I gaze at him with suspicion. “Alright, let’s address the elephant in the room. What the hell are you doing here so late?”

“What are you doing here so late?”

I lift one brow and tilt my chin up. “Don’t answer my question with a question. That’s the oldest trick in the book. We both know you can do better than that.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of feisty? I didn’t know anyone wearing overalls could have so much spice,” he says, holding in a smile. He leans in even closer to me, enveloping me in his cologne. “I think I kind of like it,” he whispers. When I roll my eyes, that smile of his breaks free, and I try my damndest not to let it affect me.

Unfortunately, it does.

Thank god the room is dim enough, or else he would see my face on fire.

I also think I’m sweating. Am I coming down with something? I must be sick because no man has ever gotten a rise out of me like this.

I’m shaking my head at myself. I cannot believe this guy—tall and a bit lanky, he probably watches the History Channel while organizing his sweater vests for fun. And yet, he’s so endearingly charming that I can’t help but experience that pesky flutter in my stomach whenever he speaks.

“Well, congratulations. It seems like you’re the first to like the feisty, overalls-wearing girl.” I laugh, self-deprecation evident in my voice.

He’s watching me carefully now—borderline studying me—and it makes me squirm.

“I highly doubt that,” he says, his voice low.

“Let’s agree to disagree.” I pause for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “So, you never answered my question. Why are you here so late?”

“I’ve never been the greatest sleeper.”

I nod, knowing exactly what he means. “Ah. So you’re a night owl.”

He sits up a little straighter now. “You too, I presume?”

My chin dips, and a lump begins to form in my throat. “I used to be able to sleep well until . . . well, you know.”

Still looking down at the counter, I grab a stray leaf and fidget with it between my fingers—giving me something to do while this heavy cloud of emotion hovers over us.

Finn’s voice is filled with sorrow. “You don’t have to say more. No explanation needed.”

We sit in silence for a moment as I try to tear my focus away from the sadness that looms over me. While I’m thinking of ways to change the subject, Finn’s warm hand reaches over and covers my hand that’s incessantly fidgeting with the leaf. With soothing strokes, he rubs his thumb along the back of my hand. I can hear my pulse rising in my ears—louder than ever. Looking down at our joined hands, I can’t help but notice how his completely envelopes mine, and my fidgeting stops.

Immediately, the overwhelming sadness storming inside of me begins to subside, giving me a chance to come up for air and breathe. Even though I’m not the biggest fan of being touched, feeling his hand against mine grounds me.

A temporary reprieve from my hectic mind.

What would a hug feel like if a simple touch of his hand makes me feel this way?

A kiss?

I swallow thickly, making sure my mind doesn’t wander further than that at this moment.

When I finally gather the courage to glance up at him, his gaze is locked on me, with no plans of leaving. There’s something unreadable brewing in Finn’s eyes. It’s not pity or sorrow. I can’t tell exactly what his expression is. If I had to guess, he’s thinking of ways to help me—comfort me. Like he senses what I’m feeling and what I need without me having to verbalize it.

“Come for a walk with me,” he says.

I speak so quietly that I can barely hear myself as I simply say, “Okay.”