Chapter 7 Penny
7
PENNY
PRESENT DAY.
Ineeded a distraction. After last night, my blood felt like it was at a permanent rolling boil.
The night had been fine, fantastic even, until Mac pulled that caveman stunt, yanking me over the damn bar and dragging me into the storage closet.
Who the hell did he think he was?
I made it perfectly clear that I needed space. That whatever we had was over because my trust was worn thin.
Grabbing the next book from my cart, I checked the label, funneled through the shelf, and slammed it into the empty space with more force than necessary.
The battle in my head raged on, my face scrunched in frustration. If anyone were watching me, they’d probably think I was insane as I argued with the voices inside my head.
I was beyond frustrated with how things had ended between us. Six months. That’s how long it had been. Six months of stolen glances, of laughter, of whispered conversations in the dark. Six months of tangled sheets and tangled emotions.
And then, one morning, it all blew up.
Everything we did, every unspoken promise, burned to the ground.
I ran, not looking back, and put as much distance between us as I possibly could, given the circumstances.
My heart hurt.
I was wounded and stubborn enough to let the pain keep me from turning around, from letting him in again.
For a brief moment in that closet, I had considered hearing him out—letting him explain why he hadn’t told me. Maybe I would have understood if it had only been a month or two. But six whole months spent together? He’d chosen to keep a secret that big, knowing damn well the entire time.
“Stupid bastard,” I muttered under my breath, turning on my heel, gripping the book in my hand a little too tightly.
As I spun, I nearly collided with something small yet solid. I jolted back just in time to see a little girl standing before me, wide-eyed and curious.
Winnie.
Her mom was a frequent visitor to the library, and at seven years old, Winnie was already reading far beyond her age. I knew that because she always came to me for help with the “big words” she couldn’t quite figure out. Normally, she curled up in one of the bean bag chairs with her favorite short chapter books, completely lost in the pages.
But today, she was standing in front of me, head tilted to the side, blonde curls bouncing around her face, and a bright pink bow perched on top.
“What’s a bastard?” she asked, her voice as innocent as could be.
Shit.
I cleared my throat, willing my face to look composed even though panic was flaring inside me. Dropping into a squat, my dress pooling around my knees, I placed a gentle hand on her arm.
“I said, Buster,” I corrected smoothly, smiling like I wasn’t a filthy liar. “The other one is a bad word, and we don’t say those kinds of words here.”
Winnie’s little brows pinched together in confusion. “But Mommy says that to Daddy all the time.”
A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. Oh, this poor kid.
I ruffled my hand over her curls, then stood and held out my hand for her to take.
“Well, why don’t we go find Mommy and see if she’d like to tell you what that means?” I suggested.
Winnie slipped her small hand into mine, but instead of moving, she gazed up at me with those big brown eyes, blinking sweetly.
“Can we skip Miss Penny?” she asked.
Instantly, my heart swelled, an ache settling deep.
“Of course, sweetie. Did she tell you where she would be?” I asked, scanning the library in search of those familiar blonde curls somewhere near the adult section.
Winnie let out a dramatic sigh, her tiny shoulders rising and falling as she paused, clearly searching for the right word. I glanced down as she pursed her lips in determination.
“The e-e—aerobics,” she finally said, her voice laced with confidence despite her stumble.
My heart warmed at her effort, but I didn’t correct her. Instead, I grinned and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Lucky for her, I knew what she meant. We took off skipping as I guided her toward the erotica section in hopes of finding Mom.
The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the quiet streets. The air was the perfect balance of warm and cool, and a gentle breeze brushed against my skin as I made my way home.
Tonight was mine—reserved for catching up on my favorite shows, drinking wine until my head felt light, and dancing around my apartment like no one was watching because no one was watching.
It was later than usual. I’d stayed behind at the library, finishing up the book cart I’d claimed earlier in the day. A school field trip had interrupted me that afternoon, pulling me into an impromptu lesson on how to properly use a search engine, which was desperately needed for their end-of-the-year final papers.
With summer fast approaching and school nearly out, my job was about to shift into high gear. During the school year, the library hummed quietly, busiest in the evenings when students filled the space for clubs, homework help, or just a quiet place to exist. But summer? Summer brought a different kind of energy. Days packed with eager kids and restless adults, bringing in a constant flow of visitors. I liked to fill it with programs, keeping the young minds engaged while giving the regulars their much-needed escape.
Letting out a slow breath, I tried to shake the day off. I refused to carry work home with me—especially not the stress, or the lingering frustration over Mac. Just thinking about him made irritation stir low in my gut, threatening to ruin my night before it had even begun.
No. Not here. My home was my sanctuary, my peace. And I refused to let anything—or anyone—disrupt that.
The steady tap of my loafers echoed against the concrete as I dug through my bag for my keys. My fingers brushed against the cool metal just as I looked inside Sandy’s flower shop.
The lights were still on.
Curiosity piqued, I hesitated in front of the picture window. It was too late for Sandy to still be here. The sun nearly dipped below the horizon, and that went against her number one rule: always be home before dark.
Frowning, I stepped into the small vestibule and then pushed open the front door of Petal Pushers.
The chime above rang softly, the scent of fresh-cut flowers curling around me like an embrace.
But Sandy was nowhere to be found.
“Sandy?” I called out, leaving my bag by the door.
Silence.
My pulse ticked up as I moved deeper into the shop, my eyes flicking toward the back room.
Something felt… off.
Keeping my head on a swivel, I took a cautious step forward and then another until I knew the front of the store was empty.
Pushing through the swinging doors into her prep area, I found her sitting on the floor, back against the stainless-steel table leg, like she’d accepted her fate.
“Oh my gosh!” I huffed, rushing toward her.
Sandy’s head snapped up, and she gave me a small, sheepish smile. “Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed, reaching for my extended hand as I pulled her to her feet.
She dusted her hands off on the front of her apron, brushing away whatever debris had stuck to her from the floor.
“I dropped a vase,” she admitted, gesturing to the mess around us. “Bent down to pick up the bigger chunks of glass, lost my balance, and well, here we are.”
She turned her hands over, revealing tiny scrapes—evidence of her attempt to catch herself.
My stomach dropped. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to take you to the emergency clinic?” I grabbed her biceps, scanning her from head to toe for anything else she wasn’t telling me.
Sandy laughed—actually laughed—then grabbed my cheeks, tilting my head up so I had no choice but to look at her. The concern must’ve been written all over my face. My heart was still thudding in my ears. I was full of adrenaline, bracing for the worst.
“No, sweetie, I’m okay.” Her smile softened, and my shoulders sagged in relief. “I’m just glad your nosiness got the best of you and made you check on me.”
I rolled my eyes, finally exhaling a deep breath. “You scared me!” My voice rose as I planted my hands on my hips. “Next time, use a broom and dustpan.”
Sandy chuckled and patted my arm, guiding me toward the little table and chair she usually perched at while assembling her bouquets.
“Take a seat. Let me get you a drink.”
I huffed. “I should be getting you the drink and making you sit down.”
“I’ve been sitting for…” She glanced at her watch. “Forty-five minutes.”
Before I could argue, she disappeared for a moment, then returned with iced tea and a plate of cookies.
I accepted the tea with a grumble. “How many times have I told you, begged you, to keep your phone in your apron?” I scowled, biting into a cookie and washing it down with a sip.
Sandy waved me off, already turning toward the other side of the narrow space, acting as if she hadn’t just spent nearly an hour stranded on the floor.
“Stubborn woman,” I muttered, shaking my head.
With a dustpan and broom finally in hand—the choice she should’ve made from the start—Sandy began sweeping up the shattered glass.
“Did you need my help with Mother’s Day weekend again this year?” I asked, steering the conversation in a new direction.
For the last few years, I’ve dedicated my weekends to helping Sandy fulfill the holiday orders. Usually, there was a huge influx, and without anyone else working the shop, Sandy could hardly keep up.
“Yes,” she replied, squatting to grab the dustpan.
My breath hitched.
“Penelope,” Sandy scolded.
I rolled my eyes. “What days were you thinking? You know I’m free the whole weekend.”
It wasn’t like I had Mother’s Day plans. My relationship with my parents was nonexistent, which made it an easy choice to spend my time helping Sandy however she needed.
“I could use that creative eye of yours to help me put together some arrangements. And I might need help loading up a pretty big order for the community center.”
Sandy straightened, pivoting toward the trash can before dumping the last of the glass inside.
Mother’s Day was still two weekends away, so I made a mental note to jot it down in my calendar once I finally got upstairs.
“Well, you put me to work, and we’ll get it done,” I assured her.
Finally, Sandy sank into the chair across from me, grabbing a cookie and biting into it before lazily pointing it in my direction.
“I was thinking,” she mused between chews, “maybe you could ask that Ridley boy to help us load those orders and drop them off. I haven’t seen him around here in a while.”
A knot the size of a damn tennis ball formed in my throat, and I tried to clear it away. When that didn’t work, I took a long sip of tea and shook my head.
“I don’t think so,” I said firmly. “He and I don’t talk like that anymore.”
Sandy sighed, giving me a look that hovered between sympathy and pity. Coming from anyone else, I might have spoken up, but I let it slide.
“That’s a shame,” she said, shaking her head. “He was a nice boy… and pretty easy on the eyes.” She winked.
I couldn’t help but laugh, nodding in agreement. As infuriating as he was, he was nice to look at. A blessing and a curse.
When I used to sneak Mac into my apartment, there was no getting past Sandy. She was the only person who knew we’d been spending time together, and luckily for us, she wasn’t much of a gossip.
He’d stop in and check on her, make sure she was doing all right, and then buy me roses. He never forgot, never let the pitcher go empty.
I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about those moments with him.
I got to see the sweet side he kept hidden away from the world. I’d learned a lot about Mac, about the man he is.
No.
I didn’t like that my anger was softening toward him. He didn’t deserve it. He played me and made me look like a fool.
My feelings were warranted, and I wasn’t giving up that easily.
I sighed and took another sip before giving Sandy my attention and moving on to a safer topic.
Because my mind—my heart—couldn’t take it.
“I can ask another brawny, easy-on-the-eyes guy,” I said.
There was one other guy in Faircloud I knew who probably wouldn’t be doing anything that weekend. His parents, too, weren’t very present in his life.
“Oh yeah?” Sandy asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “And who is that?”
“Logan Walker, Boone’s friend.”
Logan was sweet, even though we didn’t see him much. He spent most of his time working or by himself.
“That would be lovely,” Sandy replied.
By the time I’d finished my third cookie and drained the last of my tea, I decided to call it a night. I hugged Sandy, reminding her again to keep her phone in her apron.
In true stubborn old-lady fashion, she ignored me completely and sent me on my way with the rest of the baked goods… and the entire pitcher of tea.