6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Joe
The scent of fresh flowers fills the shop, a mix of roses, peonies, and lavender that almost manages to distract me from the nagging thoughts I’ve been carrying for months. Almost.
I roll up my sleeves and reach for another bouquet, carefully placing a bundle of pink roses into a glass vase while Ella moves around the shop, her expert hands making quick work of the intricate arrangements. I’m slower—mostly because I have no idea what I’m doing—but I figure if I can handle a 300-pound defensive lineman charging at me, I can handle a few stems and some floral foam.
After trying—and failing—for the past week, it may be time to accept defeat.
“You’re butchering that poor bouquet,” Ella teases, peering over at my sad-looking arrangement. “What did those flowers ever do to you?”
I sigh, setting the vase down. “I don’t know how you make this look so easy.”
“Years of practice.” She grins and nudges my shoulder. “Also, not being a football player with hands the size of dinner plates probably helps.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Hey, these hands have won a lot of games.”
Her smile falters for just a second. It’s quick—so quick that if I wasn’t paying attention, I might’ve missed it. We both know I didn’t win much of anything this past season.
The elephant’s not just in the room. It’s sitting on top of me.
I can put on a brave face with everyone else, pretending it doesn’t bother me, but Ella sees through that. She sees me.
I swallow hard and refocus on the task at hand, but the thoughts creep in anyway. The games that slipped through my fingers. The critics who said I’d lost my edge. The constant injuries. The way my last game ended… with me sitting on a bench, watching someone else take my place.
For the first time in my life, I’m not sure where I stand in the one thing I’ve always been good at.
Ella must notice the shift in my mood because her voice softens. “You okay?”
I glance at her and consider brushing it off, but something about this moment—about her—makes me want to say it out loud. “I don’t know,” I admit. “This season…it wasn’t great. And I don’t know what’s next.”
She doesn’t rush to fill the silence. She just lets me sit in it, like she actually gets it. Like she understands what it’s like to have your foundation crack beneath you.
I exhale slowly and pick up a sprig of baby’s breath, twirling it between my fingers. “My grandma used to say that every tough moment is just another chance to prove what you’re made of.”
Ella tilts her head. “She sounds like she was pretty wise.”
“She was.” A small smile tugs at my lips as I think about her. “She believed in me before anyone else did. Used to tell me I was going to do something special. Not just with football, but with my life.”
Ella’s eyes soften. “Is that why you started Quarterback Cupid?”
I nod, my chest tightening. “When I was a kid, she worked at the nursing home. We’d buy flowers and deliver them to the residents together. It’s a small thing, really, but it truly made people’s lives better. She made people’s lives better.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “After I went away to college, she continued delivering flowers herself. So, after she passed, I figured…it’s the very least I could do, you know?”
Ella studies me for a long moment, and I can’t quite read the expression on her face. But then, she steps closer and nudges my bouquet into place, fixing the lopsided arrangement with gentle hands.
“You’re getting a lot better at this,” she murmurs. “You’ll be a pro in no time, Quarterback Cupid.”
I look at her then, really look at her, and something shifts. The weight on my shoulders doesn’t feel quite as heavy.
Maybe I don’t know what comes next. Maybe my football career is on shaky ground. But right now, standing here with Ella in a flower shop full of life and color, I think…maybe I’ll be okay.
“Ella…” My voice is husky, and I feel the sting of tears behind my eyelids. “You’re… you’ve… I… thank you.”
Does she know how special she is? I’m just a big, dumb oaf who can’t put it into words. But could I show her?
I want to touch her. To stroke the palm of her hand with my thumb or tuck a strand of pink hair behind her ear or kiss her until we’re both gasping for air. Would she understand how amazing she is then?
She smiles at me. “No problems, Matthews. Now, get back to work. We still have a lot of arrangements to put together.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”