Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Brynn
Ilock the register and rub at the tight muscles in my neck as I glance around the shop, making sure everything is in place before I close up.
The scent of roses and eucalyptus lingers in the air, mingling with the faint traces of lavender I used in an arrangement earlier.
Olivia rode the bus home today—she loves the small freedom of it, and I know she’s safe with my dad.
Still, I miss her chatter as I go about my end-of-day routine.
The bell over the door chimes, and I glance up, expecting to tell a late customer that we’re closed. Instead, Rachel stands there, holding a takeout bag and raising a brow at me.
“I figured we could catch up,” she says, stepping inside and locking the door behind her. “I also figured you needed some time away from the ranch. And before you lie to me, I know you better than anyone.”
I huff out a breath, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “I should get home to…”
“And yet, here I am. With food.”
I shake my head, but my stomach betrays me, rumbling at the smell of whatever she brought. “You always know how to speak right to my heart.”
“Food talks, which, in turn, makes you talk.”
“Come on,” I say, flipping off the front lights. “We can eat in my office.”
We weave through the dimly lit shop, past rows of flowers settled in their coolers for the night. Once inside my office, I collapse into my chair while Rachel sets the food down and starts pulling out containers.
“How are things at the ranch?” she asks as she looks back at me.
“It’s really hard to look out my front door and see the skeleton of the old barn.”
“I can’t imagine. Have they found Lane?”
“Nope. He’s disappeared, which, to me, is a loud sign that he’s guilty. Clay called me screaming yesterday, saying that Lane isn’t answering calls or texts and that he’s worried he’s in trouble.”
“And that’s not your problem.”
“I know,” I murmur softly.
“Brynn,” she says with a sigh. “Olivia’s uncle or not, he is not your responsibility. If Clay was really concerned, then he would have called the sheriff and the hospitals, not you.”
“He could have.”
“No. Fuck him. His brother possibly committed arson and could have killed people or caused your entire family ranch to go up in flames because he’s petulant, and the bastard has the nerve to call and scream at you? No. Why aren’t you mad at this?”
“I hung up on him.”
She looks back at me carefully. “That’s a start, and I know it’s a big deal for you.”
“I am mad, by the way. But…what’s the point of screaming and yelling accusations? I don’t want to waste any more energy on Clay or Lane. Instead of arguing with him, I just hung up.”
“You’re right,” she sighs. “And I’m proud of you.”
“I just…I’ve wrestled so long with the fact that he’s Olivia’s dad, and I didn’t want to be responsible for him not being in his life.”
“That’s his choice. You know that, right?”
I nod slowly. “I do. I guess.”
I do, but it’s still a hard thing that I’m working through.
“How’s Jack doing?” she asks casually as she hands me a fork. “After the fire and everything?”
My heart stops at the drastic change in our conversation’s direction.
Does she know? She always knows. She knew when Clay and I started talking because of how I was acting. Shit…I can’t tell her any of this, can I?
I inhale slowly and pause for a fraction of a second before answering. “He seems good.”
She narrows her eyes, watching me too closely. I focus on opening my container and stabbing at the food inside.
“Brynn.”
I glance up, but the moment our eyes meet, I look away.
She doesn’t let it slide. “Why did you just look away?” she asks, leaning forward and holding up a hand to stop me from dodging the question.
I hesitate, pressing my lips together. I inhale and exhale slowly, trying to think of how to reply. It’s impossible to keep anything from her; we’ve known each other for so long that she knows all my lies.
The words knot in my throat, but they unravel in a rush when I speak. “I cried in front of him today. When I went home for lunch. And now all I can think about is that he’s never going to talk to me again because I broke in front of him.”
She exhales softly, then shakes her head with a small laugh. “Look, I’m not saying there aren’t men out there who would run the second they saw real emotions, but I don’t think Jack is that man.”
I stare at my food, pushing it around with my fork. “I think he is. Clay would have—”
“Stop right there,” she cuts in, her voice firm but not unkind. “You cannot keep expecting Jack to be like Clay. He’s not.”
I close my eyes for a second, exhaling slowly. “I know that.”
“Do you? Because it doesn’t feel like you do.”
“I do…it’s just…hard.”
“I get that. Why were you crying?” she asks, her tone gentler now.
I let out a quiet laugh, but it’s humorless. “I was just overwhelmed. It just… came out.”
She points her fork at me. “That’s the first sign he’s nothing like Clay. Because if he was, you never would have felt safe enough to let it out in front of him.”
I blow out a long sigh.
She’s right. She’s righter than right. Damn.
I don’t know what Jack is thinking, but Rachel is right about one thing—crying in front of Clay never felt like an option. He was so good about using everything against me. He would do everything in his power to gaslight and make me feel crazy, but I refused to let him see me break.
But with Jack… I hadn’t even thought about it. It had just happened.
Rachel nudges my foot under the table. “Eat your food, Brynn. And stop overthinking.”
I shake my head but pick up my fork anyway, trying to ignore the way my stomach knots at the thought of what Jack is thinking right now.
Rachel nudges my foot under the table. “Get out of your head. I’m proud of you, you know. For letting yourself be vulnerable with Jack. I know how hard that is for you.”
I let out a breath and shake my head. “I’m a little embarrassed by it, honestly.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” she says firmly.
She studies me for a long moment before tilting her head. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. “We slept together. Right before the barn caught on fire. Right before he almost died. And if we hadn’t been—” I swallow hard. “If we hadn’t been having sex, maybe the barn wouldn’t have caught on fire.”
Rachel’s expression softens, and she reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t shame yourself after finally letting someone in. That fire was out of your control. You didn’t start it.”
I press my lips together, but she doesn’t stop there.
“I know you spent a long time being told by Clay that you didn’t deserve happiness, or love, or anything good. But those were his stories, his lies that he told you to control you. And you can’t listen to them. Because they’re lies, Brynn. That fire wasn’t your fault. And Jack—he’s not Clay.”
I nod slowly, letting her words sink in, even if I don’t fully believe them yet. “I haven’t even tried to date. I don’t know the first thing about it. What if…what if Jack just wants a fuck buddy?”
“What do you want?” she asks.
“Not that. Maybe it would be easier to have that with everything I have on my plate, and I’m clearly not good at…”
“If you say you’re not good at relationships, I will throw my food at you,” Rachel interrupts teasingly. “No one is perfect, but your relationship with Clay isn’t a good representation of relationships or your capability to have one.”
“But—”
“No, ma’am,” she says in exasperation. “I’m not going to let you excuse your way out of any of this. You need to have a conversation with yourself and decide what you want and want with him, and then you need to have a talk with him to figure out what he wants, too, so that you don’t get hurt.”
“I’ll do that,” I murmur.
Will I, though? All of it sounds terrifying.
I go back to eating and try to ignore the way my stomach knots at the thought of what Jack is thinking right now.
Could it be over as quickly as it started?