Chapter 3 Daisy
Iwatched his truck disappear down the driveway.
Knox Parker had been in my kitchen. In my space. Close enough to touch.
I'd frozen. Gone cold and mean because the alternative was falling apart, and I refused to fall apart over him. Not again. Not ever again.
We don't need to be anything.
I'd meant it. Every word.
So why did saying it feel like swallowing glass?
I pressed my palms flat against the window frame and breathed. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The same technique my therapist had taught me when Garrett's comments started living in my head rent-free.
Knox wasn't Garrett. That was the problem. Garrett had been easy to hate by the end. His cruelty had been slow and surgical, designed to make me doubt myself while he smiled and called it love.
Knox had been a single, clean cut. One night. One absence. One silence that said everything his words never did.
I don't want you. I never did. You were a summer distraction, and now summer's over.
He'd never said those words out loud. He hadn't needed to. His absence had said them for him.
I pushed away from the window and went to get dressed.
***
The Hollow Peak Family Clinic was a single-story building on the east side of Main Street, tucked between the post office and a gift shop selling overpriced turquoise jewelry.
Inside, it was warm and modern, with mountain photographs on the walls and the faint scent of eucalyptus drifting from a diffuser on the front desk.
Dr. Lila Brennan met me at the door.
She was striking. Late thirties, Black, with chic glasses and an air of quiet competence that made you want to hand over your problems and trust her to fix them. Her handshake was firm, her smile genuine.
"Daisy. I'm so glad you're here." She gestured me inside. "Cal's been talking about you for years. I was starting to think you were a myth."
"Disappointing in person?"
"Hardly." She led me through the small waiting room, past the reception desk, toward a hallway lined with exam rooms. "I'm down to one full-time nurse and a part-time receptionist who's about to go on maternity leave. You're a lifesaver."
"Happy to help."
Lila gave me a quick tour. The clinic was small but well-equipped, serving Hollow Peak and the surrounding mountain communities. Lila handled everything from flu shots to broken bones to the occasional emergency that couldn't wait for the hour-long drive to the hospital in Ridgway.
"It's not glamorous," she said, leaning against the doorframe of what would be my workspace. "But it matters. These people don't have anywhere else to go."
"That's why I wanted to work here."
Lila studied me for a moment, her gaze sharp but not unkind. "Cal said you were coming off a rough patch. I'm not going to pry. But if you need flexibility, time off, anything like that, tell me. We take care of our own in Hollow Peak."
The kindness caught me off guard. I'd spent so long bracing for judgment that I didn't know what to do when it didn't come.
"Thanks," I said. "I appreciate that."
"Good. Now let's get you set up before Mrs. Patterson comes in for her blood pressure check. She's going to ask if you're single, how old you are, and whether you've considered freezing your eggs. Don't say I didn't warn you."
I laughed. It felt strange in my throat, like a muscle I'd forgotten how to use.
***
By noon, I'd met half the town.
That was the thing about small-town medicine.
Patients didn't come in, get treated, and leave.
They came in, got treated, and stayed to chat about their grandchildren, their gardens, their opinions on the new stoplight that had been installed last spring and was "ruining the character of Main Street. "
I smiled. Nodded. Asked the right questions. Let them look at me and draw their own conclusions.
I saw the curiosity in their eyes. The unasked questions.
Why are you back? What happened? Are you staying?
I gave them nothing. Polite deflection was a skill I'd perfected over the past year, living with a man who turned every honest answer into ammunition.
After my shift, I walked to the Switchback Café.
The smell hit me before I opened the door. Cinnamon, butter, fresh coffee and something caramelizing in the back. The interior was warm and cluttered, mismatched tables and vintage photographs and a chalkboard menu covered in handwritten specials.
Mae Whitlock was behind the counter, silver-streaked braid over one shoulder, flour dusting her apron. She looked up when I walked in, and her face split into a grin.
"Daisy Taylor. Get over here."
She came around the counter and pulled me into a hug that smelled like vanilla and felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Mae had been a fixture of my summers in Hollow Peak, the woman who slipped me extra cookies and pretended not to notice when I snuck out to meet—
I cut that thought off before it could finish.
"Look at you," Mae said, holding me at arm's length. "All grown up and gorgeous. Cal didn't tell me you got even prettier."
"Cal doesn't notice things like that."
"Cal notices everything. He talks about nothing. That’s a cop for you." She steered me toward a stool at the counter. "Sit. Eat. You look like you haven't had a decent meal in weeks."
"I'm fine, Mae."
"You're skinny, is what you are. Skinny and tired. Don't argue with me." She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a plate piled high with a cinnamon roll the size of my head. "On the house. Consider it a welcome-back gift."
I didn't argue. The first bite was heaven. Sweet and warm and exactly what I remembered.
Mae poured herself a coffee and leaned against the counter, watching me eat with the satisfied expression of someone who knew exactly how good her baking was.
"So," she said. "How long are you staying?"
"Few months. Maybe longer. Depends on how the clinic goes."
"Lila's good people. She'll take care of you." Mae took a sip of her coffee. "And how are things at Cal's? I heard Knox has been up there a lot lately. Water heater trouble?"
My fork paused halfway to my mouth.
Mae's expression was innocent. Too innocent. This woman had been running the Hollow Peak gossip network since before I was born. She knew exactly what she was doing.
"Something like that," I said carefully.
"Hmm." Mae set down her mug. "That boy's been different since you left, you know. Quieter. More careful. Like he's waiting for something."
I didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to think about Knox Parker as anything other than the guy who'd broken my heart and never looked back.
"People change," I said.
"Maybe." Mae's eyes were seeing more than I wanted her to. "Or maybe some people were never what they seemed in the first place."
I shoved another bite of cinnamon roll in my mouth so I wouldn't have to respond.
The bell over the door chimed and Mae glanced up, her expression shifted into something softer.
"Well, speak of the devil."
I turned as Knox walked in, followed by a guy I didn't recognize. Tall, muscled, freckled, with the kind of easy smile that made you want to smile back. He was saying something to Knox, laughing, and Knox was shaking his head with the ghost of a grin on his face.
Then Knox saw me and the grin vanished.
Our eyes locked. The café shrank to the size of a pinhole and everything else fading to static.
He looked good. That was the infuriating thing. Gray t-shirt stretched across his chest, jeans that fit too well, hair still damp like he'd showered recently. He looked like a man who'd grown into himself, all the rough edges smoothed without losing the sharpness underneath.
I hated that I noticed. I hated even more that my body still responded to him like a reflex I couldn't control.
"Daisy." The freckled guy broke the silence, stepping forward with his hand extended. "I'm Mason. Mason Hale. I don't think we've met, but I've heard a lot about you."
I tore my gaze away from Knox and shook Mason's hand. His grip was warm and friendly. "Good things, I hope."
"Little of both." Mason grinned. He had golden retriever energy, the kind of guy who was impossible to dislike. "You working at Lila's clinic now?"
"Started today."
"She's great. Fixed my shoulder last year after I did something stupid on a ladder. Didn't even lecture me that much."
"She lectured you for twenty minutes," Knox said.
"That's not that much," Mason said. "For Lila? That's practically a compliment."
Mae set two coffees on the counter. "Your usual, boys. And Knox, I put aside a slice of that apple pie you like. It's in the back."
"Thanks, Mae."
He didn't look at me again as he grabbed his coffee and nodded at Mason, then headed for a booth in the corner like I wasn't even there.
It stung. Which was stupid. I'd told him we didn't need to be anything. I'd made my position clear. Why did it bother me that he was respecting it?
Mason lingered at the counter, coffee in hand. "Hey, if you need anything while you're in town, let me know. I do woodworking, handyman stuff, whatever. And I know everyone, so if you're looking for recommendations, I'm your guy."
"Thanks," I said. "I appreciate that."
"Also, fair warning." He leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Mae's going to try to set you up with someone before the week's out. She does it to everyone. My advice? Smile, nod, and suddenly remember you have somewhere to be."
"Noted."
Mason grinned and headed for the booth where Knox was sitting. I watched him slide into the seat across from Knox, watched them fall into easy conversation, watched Knox's shoulders relax in a way they hadn't when I was in his line of sight.
They were friends. Close ones, from the look of it.
Eight years. Knox had built a whole life here. Friends, work, a place in this town. He wasn't the reckless troublemaker I remembered. He was something else now. Something I didn't recognize.
Mae appeared at my elbow. "More coffee?"
"I should go." I stood, pulling out my wallet.
Mae waved me off. "I told you, on the house. Come back tomorrow. I'll have fresh muffins."
"You don't have to."
"I know I don't have to. I want to." She patted my hand. "It's good to have you back, sweetheart. This town missed you."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I said thank you, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.
I didn't look at Knox's booth as I passed.
I felt his eyes on me anyway.
***
Outside, the afternoon sun was warm, the sky a perfect, impossible blue. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, breathing in mountain air, trying to settle the chaos in my chest.
This was fine. I could handle this. Knox and I would coexist in this town like adults, maintaining polite distance until I left and never thought about him again.
I started walking toward Cal's cabin, stopping to look into shop windows and make small talk to locals.
Halfway down Main Street, I saw him again. Helping an elderly woman carry grocery bags to her car.
He was patient with her. Gentle. Bending down to hear something she said, nodding, smiling in a way that transformed his whole face. The woman patted his cheek like he was her favorite grandson, and he ducked his head, almost shy.
This wasn't the Knox I remembered. The Knox I remembered was all edges and defiance, a middle finger raised at a world that had never given him a fair shot. He'd been magnetic and dangerous and utterly incapable of this kind of quiet kindness.
But here he was. Carrying groceries. Smiling at old ladies and fitting into this town like he'd finally found where he belonged.
This was not what I wanted.
I wanted him to be the villain. I needed him to be the villain. Because if he wasn't, then I'd spent eight years hating a man who didn't exist.
And if that man didn't exist, then who had I really been hating all this time?
Our eyes met across the street. For a second, his mask slipped. I saw something raw underneath. Something that looked like longing.
Then it was gone. He nodded once, a brief acknowledgment, and walked away.
I stood there for a long time, watching him disappear around the corner.
He's not who you think he is.
Mae's words echoed in my head, unwanted and impossible to ignore.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe he'd never been who I thought he was.