Chapter 12 #2
My pulse jumped hard enough to be a problem, but she just smiled, not caring that she’d just set the air between us on fire.
“See you later, Huddy.” She turned to go back inside, hair swinging, bare legs flashing with every step.
I should’ve let her go, but without Junie or music filling the space, the strain in her expression was impossible to miss.
“Daisy,” I said before I could stop myself.
She paused in the doorway, glancing back. The brightness in her expression held, but barely.
“If you need help today,” I said carefully, “with arrangements. With any of it. You don’t have to do that alone.”
For half a second, something real flickered across her face.
Not humor. Not deflection.
Just grief.
Then she blinked, quick as a shutter.
“I’m fine,” she said, too fast, voice too light. “I’m basically the mayor of Doing Great.”
Before I could say anything else, Junie yelled from the truck, “Come on, Ty!”
Daisy waved a hand at me, already stepping back like she needed the space. “Go be responsible, Mr. Fix It. We’ve got this. I’m good.”
A single nod was safer than saying anything that might crack her open.
I walked off the porch and into the truck, helping Junie buckle in before pulling out of the driveway.
The plan was simple—drop Junie at the rink, head to the hardware store, keep moving.
But my chest stayed tight the whole way, my thoughts stuck on Daisy Winslow standing on that porch, smiling too hard, insisting she was fine.
And hating that I was leaving her alone with the day anyway.
“Knock knock,” Emmy’s voice said from the open door to my office.
Rowdy lifted his head from where he’d claimed the rug by my desk, tail thumping once when he saw her.
“Thought I’d come check on you,” Emmy added, already stepping inside. “And I brought lunch.”
“Those are the magic words.”
Rowdy stood, did a slow, hopeful circle, then sat again when I nudged him back with my boot.
I shoved a stack of invoices aside while she unpacked a brown paper bag from Slice hockey was. And so was Junie. But this… the store was a weight I didn’t need to carry anymore.
“Hey, Steve,” I called to the kid at the register. “Go grab lunch. I’ve got it.”
Steve looked up, then grinned. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Take your time.”
He grabbed his keys and headed out, giving Rowdy a quick pat on the way past.
I slid in behind the register, scratching Rowdy’s head as I reached for the notepad and pen I kept tucked beneath the counter. My brain was already drafting a job listing—general manager, full-time, steady, capable. Someone who wasn’t me.
Maybe it was time.
The bell over the door jingled. I looked up, pen still in my hand. A woman stood just inside the doorway, a blanket tucked in her arms, her smile soft and unsure.
“Welcome to Hudson Hardware,” I said, setting the pen down. “How can I help?”
She shifted the bundle, and it moved.
“You’re Ty Hudson, right?” she asked. “The one who rescues things?”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “Guess that’s me.”
She glanced down at the blanket, then back up. “Room for one more?”