Chapter 25 Mac
25
MAC
Mac: Boone said you were helping out at Petal Pusher tomorrow???
Logan: yeah man why what’s up?
Mac: Mind if I join you?
Logan: sure thing, that would be great. I’ll swing by and grab you in the morning.
Itugged on my cowboy boots, the worn leather fitting like a glove, and double-checked that my wallet and phone were tucked securely in my pockets. With a quick glance around my apartment, I shut the door and jogged down the steps into the main part of the bar.
The place was quiet, just the soft hum of the coolers and the faint scent of spilled beer clinging to the air. I swung behind the bar and grabbed my pack of cigarettes, stuffing them into my back pocket.
Logan was due any minute. We were heading down to Petal Pusher. The best part was that Penny didn’t know I was tagging along to help. Not that I expected a big welcome. Hell, I didn’t know if she would be angry or pissed off, but only time would tell. Still, it felt good, doing something for her. Something she didn’t see coming.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” a voice snapped from behind me.
My sister stepped out from the back office, all tight lips and crossed arms, a permanent scowl etched across her face. Her sharp bob swayed with the motion, eyes raking over me like she was trying to read something that wasn’t even there.
“Out,” I said flatly. No warmth. No charm. Hoping she would take the hint and leave me alone.
She propped a hand on her hip, clearly settling in for a fight. “You’re supposed to work the bar in a few hours. You will be back in time… right?”
I rounded the bar until I stood face-to-face with her, arms folded, my patience already wearing thin. I gave her the same once-over she gave me—cold, assessing. Then took a slow breath to keep my mouth in check.
“Have I ever missed a shift?” I asked, my tone sharp but controlled.
“Who knows what stupid shit you’ll pull,” she shot back.
I barked out a dry laugh as I shook my head. “That’s rich to assume my character, especially coming from someone who didn’t show her face in over a decade.”
I turned on my heel and stalked toward the door, not giving her a chance to respond. “Not that I owe you a damn explanation, but Josie’s covering my shift tonight. Don’t wait up… Mommy dearest.”
The silence behind me cracked like a whip, no room for a final jab. Pushing through the door, I stepped onto the sidewalk, letting the cool morning air slap some sense back into me.
Logan wasn’t there yet, but I didn’t care. I’d rather wait outside in the street than stand another second in that room with her.
One of these days, I’d have to actually talk to Lizzie. But now that I had even the slightest inkling she might know about the marriage—that she was here because of it—it lit a fuse under my already simmering frustration.
Why wouldn’t she just say something?
The resentment I felt wasn’t just about the bar.
It went deeper.
She’d left me behind. Took off with our mother while I stayed. While I struggled, and I was supposed to just welcome her back like it was no big deal?
I was jealous. There, I said it even if it wasn’t out loud.
Lizzie got a life. A different one. One where she didn’t have to scrape and fight and grind her way through every damn day. And maybe I ended up building something I was proud of, something I wouldn’t trade, but that didn’t mean the resentment didn’t burn just beneath the surface.
That, despite no help from her or our mother, I’d made a life for myself that didn’t follow in our dad’s shitty footsteps either.
She should be lucky I wasn’t some worthless drunk making my problems everyone else’s.
I pulled the carton of cigarettes from my back pocket and tapped it rhythmically against my palm, the soft thump grounding me more than I cared to admit. Flipping the lid open, I slid a cigarette between my lips and patted down my pockets, searching for my lighter.
Shit.
I must’ve left it behind the bar when Lizzie came storming out. Groaning under my breath, I tilted my head back, let the sunlight warm my face for a second, and pulled the unlit cigarette from my mouth, returning it to the pack.
So much for that.
I leaned against the rough brick wall, the heat from it soaking through the back of my shirt. Crossing one ankle over the other, I watched as locals milled about across the street, the breeze tugging softly.
It was a perfect day, sun-drenched with just enough wind to keep the heat from settling in. Even with the weather working overtime, my mind lingered on Lizzie. A part of me half-expected her to barrel out the front door and finish what she started. But the minutes passed and all I got was the sound of slow-moving traffic and the occasional chirp of a bird overhead.
I stayed where I was—smokeless and stubborn—refusing to go back inside.
Thank God, Logan pulled up a few minutes later. My emotions practically radiating off me, I climbed into the passenger seat, the familiar creak of his old truck welcoming me like an old friend.
“Here, man,” Logan said, reaching for the console and popping out the lighter. His truck was so damn old it still had the original cigarette lighter. I took it with a small grin, fingers curling around the warm metal.
“What gave it away?” I muttered, lifting an eyebrow.
Logan shrugged with a smirk. “The fact that you weren’t smoking when I pulled up. Plus, you had that look like you were ready to punch a stop sign or something.”
I chuckled low in my chest and shook my head. “Sounds about right.”
I pressed the lighter to the tip of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting the fire catch. One, two, three puffs—then the soft red glow was alive. The first drag felt like a necessary evil, familiar and grounding.
“I’m that predictable?” I asked, exhaling slowly out the open window.
“When it comes to you and nicotine?” Logan laughed. “You might as well be a walking Marlboro ad.”
I’ve been smoking since I was fifteen, even back then, the world felt heavier than it should’ve, and a cigarette felt like the only thing that made sense. It wasn’t just a habit anymore. It was part of me.
Maybe one day I’d quit, but I didn’t see that happening anytime soon.
Logan shifted into drive and eased away from the curb. “Your text didn’t give much away,” he said, eyes flicking toward the road.
“You haven’t heard?” I asked, resting my elbow on the edge of the window, smoke curling from my fingers into the breeze.
“Oh, I’ve heard,” he replied with a pointed glance.
“Let me guess… Aspen?”
Logan snorted. “Rhodes who heard it from Theo.”
“Of course,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“So, you’re going to help Penny. But why not just… show up on your own?”
I stared at the street ahead, lips twitching into a half-smile. “She doesn’t know I’m coming.”
Logan looked at me sideways. “And now I’m being roped into one of your grand schemes.”
“I guess you could say that,” I said with a shrug. “It’s a soft entrance.”
He shook his head with a small laugh, but didn’t press.
When we pulled up in front of Petal Pusher, Logan shifted into park and killed the engine.
I took one last drag from my cigarette before snuffing it out in the truck’s ashtray, the final ember flaring before it died, then I exited the vehicle.
“If she’s pissed,” Logan said, rounding the front of the truck to meet me. “I’m pinning this all on you.”
He tapped his fingers against my chest and turned toward the shop door with a grin, but I caught the quick flicker of nerves in his eyes.
“Fair enough,” I murmured, my gaze already drifting to the soft glow of the shop window.
The cool air of the flower shop hit my skin the moment Logan and I stepped through the door.
Inside, the space was already buzzing with early-morning customers, all of them searching for the perfect last-minute bouquet for a mom or a special woman in their life. I glanced at my phone. Eight o’clock sharp. The day was only just beginning, but Petal Pusher was alive with color, scent, and soft conversation.
Behind the counter stood Ellie, ringing up purchases with her usual bright smile. The resemblance to her mother, Mrs. Cassidy, was borderline eerie—same sharp cheekbones, same infectious energy. Her blond hair contrasted the rich brown she used to wear, softening her features in a way that made her seem more kiddish than she already was.
I’d always seen Ellie as a little sister, just like I’d seen Logan as a little brother. Both were a few years younger than the rest of us.
She looked up as Logan and I neared, her face lighting up with recognition. With a quick wave, she acknowledged us before returning her full attention to the elderly Mrs. Winchester at the register, handling her with the kindness and patience Ellie had always been known for.
Logan gave her a quick wave back, his long stride taking him ahead of me.
To my left, a kid stood still in front of one of the tall coolers, anxiety seeping from his pores. He couldn’t have been older than seventeen, and the way he tapped his chin, surveyed the flowers while rubbing his hands over his face told me this wasn’t just about picking something nice for his mom. This was something else.
A girlfriend, maybe?
I watched as he reached out for a bouquet of soft pink flowers, hesitated, then drew his hand back like he might make the wrong move and ruin it all.
I stepped up beside him, keeping my voice low. “Hey, man. You can never go wrong with red roses.”
He looked over at me, startled at first, then grateful as I grabbed a bouquet of classic red roses—the same ones I always bought for Penny—and offered them to him.
“Really?” he asked, hope creeping into his voice as he took the flowers from my hand.
I nodded. “Really. Let me guess, these for your girlfriend or her mom?”
His mouth twitched into a shy smile. “Both.”
I grinned and reached for a fresh bouquet of tulips. “Roses for the girlfriend. Tulips for her mom. Can’t miss.”
He took both bouquets carefully, like he’d just been handed a roadmap to survival, and tucked them under one arm. Then, surprisingly, he held out his hand.
“Thanks for your help.”
I shook his hand, impressed by the simple gesture and the genuine look in his eyes. There was something sweet about a kid trying so hard to get it right.
Hell, I was a grown ass man still trying to get it right.
Without another word, he spun on his heels and jogged off toward the counter, hope restored and flowers in hand.
I shook my head with a quiet smile and made my way toward the counter where Logan now stood shoulder to shoulder with Ellie. The two of them were chatting easily with a customer, completely in sync. That was my cue to slip away and see if I could be more useful in the back.
My boots echoed softly against the hardwood floor as I rounded the counter and pushed through the black swinging doors into the prep area.
The air back here was thick with the scent of fresh-cut flowers—roses, eucalyptus, and something sweet I couldn’t place. Penny and Sandy stood at a stainless-steel table, hands busy snipping stems and arranging blooms. Buckets of flowers lined the floor, waiting their turn to be part of someone’s special bouquet. Penny’s back was to me, her shoulder blades moving as she worked quickly, efficiently.
“Thank goodness,” Sandy said as she glanced up, flashing me a sly smile and a wink. “Reinforcements have arrived.”
“Ugh,” Penny groaned, letting her arms drop to her sides in exaggerated relief. She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Logan, I need you to—”
She turned and froze.
For a beat, her expression flickered from expectation to surprise. Her eyes widened, just slightly, and her lips parted like she might speak but forgot what she was going to say.
“Not Logan,” I said smoothly, trying not to grin too hard. “The better-looking, taller, and obviously funnier one. Reporting for duty.”
Penny cocked her head, giving me the kind of once-over that warmed places only she could. Then she rolled her eyes and turned back to her flowers.
“Funnier?” she said with a smirk. “That’s a stretch.”
“Oh, come on,” I replied, walking toward them. “I’m hilarious.”
She raised a brow. “Then tell me a joke.”
Just like that, my mind went blank. Completely blank. All I could think of were the worst knock-knock jokes imaginable and none of them would help my case.
“See? Not funny,” she said, grinning in triumph.
“Definitely good-looking, though,” Sandy added with a mischievous grin, not missing a beat.
Penny and I both turned to her. Penny was startled, while I was thankful. Sandy just giggled like she’d dropped a bomb and walked away unscathed.
“As much as I’d enjoy a battle of wits, we’re on a schedule,” Penny said, stepping close and giving me a playful shove to redirect me. Her hand landed lightly against my chest, and I didn’t miss the way her fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary.
I turned, and she pressed her palm to my back, nudging me forward.
“I can walk, you know,” I teased. “Or is this just an excuse to touch me?”
She scoffed under her breath but didn’t deny it.
Reaching around me, Penny pushed open the back door, and the sunlight spilled in like a warm welcome. The golden rays kissed my skin, chasing away the cooler air from inside the shop.
She bent to secure the doorstop, holding it open as we stepped outside. The delivery van sat just beyond the threshold, waiting.
And for a moment, I couldn’t decide what was more distracting—the heat of the sun, or the woman beside me. It was a no-brainer because Penny always pulled my attention.
“I’m going to need you to start loading those flowers,” Penny said, pointing to two cardboard boxes just inside the hallway. “The top box needs to be dropped at the community hall. The one on the bottom goes to the crochet club.” She turned to a nearby stack of white florist boxes, each big enough to hold a single bouquet. “These are all deliveries. You and Logan need to start with the boxes on the bottom and work your way up.”
I stood there, taking in every word like it was gospel. The last thing I was going to do was screw this up, especially not with Penny watching.
“Got it?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips. The look she gave me was no-nonsense, but I saw the warmth beneath it.
She was wearing a pale floral apron tied snugly at her waist, a loose tank top with a deep neckline, and jeans that fit like they were made just for her. Her hair was tossed up in a messy bun—my favorite look on her, hands down. Soft pieces had fallen loose, framing her heart-shaped face and making her look infuriatingly beautiful.
A loud snap of her fingers pulled me out of it.
“Earth to Mac,” she said, waving a hand in front of my face.
I grinned, unashamed. “These go to the community and crochet ladies,” I said, pointing to the first boxes. “These”—I gestured to the white delivery boxes—“need to be delivered, starting with the top.”
Penny’s eyes narrowed, fists clenching slightly at her sides, her mouth parting in disbelief. Before she could scold me, I reached out and gently wrapped my hands around her biceps.
“I’m kidding,” I said softly, my thumb brushing her skin. A shiver ran beneath my touch. “I got it, I promise.”
Her body relaxed, and she let out a long breath, her lips curving into a half-smile.
“Thanks for coming today,” she said, her voice quieter now, her eyes locked on mine. “I didn’t ask because… I mean, it’s not that I didn’t think you’d show, I just…”
“I get it,” I said gently, my hands still resting on her arms. “But just know, if you ever need me, I’ll be there. Always.”
Penny looked away for a second, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. When her gaze returned to mine, something unspoken passed between us.
“Noted,” she said softly.
I stepped just a little closer. “Since we probably won’t get much time together today,” I said, slowly letting my hands fall back to my sides, “I wanted to ask if you’d come by the bar tomorrow night.”
She studied me, eyes searching my face like she was trying to find a catch I hadn’t voiced. I could practically hear the internal debate.
“Sure,” she finally said. “What time?”
“Whenever you can,” I replied, trying to keep it casual, even though my chest had just filled with relief.
She bit her bottom lip, then crossed her arms, rubbing one lightly with her hand. “I’ll stop by after work.”
There was a pause between us.
“Well, I’ve got orders to deliver. Stop distracting me, or I’m telling Sandy.”
She gasped, smacking my arm lightly in mock offense. Acting on instinct, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
The second my lips met her skin, warmth spread through my chest. I felt the moment for what it was—small, innocent, but meaningful. I pulled away slowly, studying her face for a reaction.
To my surprise, she didn’t flinch or pull back. She didn’t tell me she wasn’t ready. Instead, she smiled.
“I’ll go get Logan, that is, if I can manage to pull him away from Ellie,” she said with a shake of her head.
She turned and walked back through the door, disappearing into the hallway.
I stood there for a moment, heart thudding like a drumline in my chest. I’d kissed her. Just her cheek, sure, but still.
I missed that connection. I missed touching her, being close, sharing even the tiniest moment that when I thought about them now felt like so much more. We were getting there—slowly but surely. I could feel it in my bones.