Chapter 41
41
PENNY
Iran through the sterile hallway of the emergency clinic, my shoes echoing on the linoleum floor. Each door I passed brought a fresh wave of dread. Room numbers blurred in my peripheral vision as I scanned them desperately, searching for hers.
As soon as my board meeting ended, I’d bolted from the library, barely remembering to grab my purse before sprinting to my car. The moment I’d overheard the conversation about Petal Pusher not opening, I knew. My gut had been right.
I hadn’t even hesitated. I called the one person I trusted to handle it. The one person I was drawn to when everything inside me was unraveling. Mac picked up on the first ring, no questions asked.
Tears streaked down my cheeks, carving through what little makeup I’d bothered with this morning. I sniffled, slowing from a run to a brisk walk as I counted down the final doors. My heart was pounding, a chaotic drumbeat in my chest.
When I finally reached the room, I stopped cold.
Mac sat beside Sandy’s bed, his large hand gently cradled in hers. She looked tired, worn, but she was smiling, soft and sweet.
The sight of her lying there—tubes of oxygen nestled in her nose, hair slightly mussed, wrapped in too-white hospital blankets—hit me like a punch to the chest. She looked so small. So fragile. And yet… still her. Still Sandy.
They both turned at once, as if sensing me.
“Oh, Penelope,” Sandy breathed, her smile widening with warmth.
I laughed through a fresh surge of tears, my heart pulling tight in my chest. Relief nearly dropped me to the floor. I crossed the room quickly, ignoring the sting in my eyes and the wobble in my knees.
She meant everything to me. My mentor, my friend, the closest thing I’d ever had to a mother. Seeing her hooked up to monitors, her skin pale against the bright lights of the clinic, made something inside me crack.
I reached for her arm just as Mac stood, his chair scraping softly against the floor. He moved toward me and gently touched my waist, guiding me into the seat he’d been keeping warm.
“Sit,” he murmured, his voice steady. “She’s okay.”
I sank into the chair, clutching Sandy’s hand like I was afraid she might slip away if I let go.
“I’m gonna head out,” Mac said, placing a strong hand on my shoulder. “But if you need anything, call me.”
I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. That constant, grounding gaze. His touch was reassuring, his presence a balm to my frayed nerves. I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
He gave me one of those soft smiles that said more than words could, tapped Sandy’s foot affectionately, and slipped out of the room.
The moment he left, I felt it. I was happy to be there with Sandy, knowing she was okay, but still, I wasn’t content.
I had to go after him. I needed to thank him for showing up and stepping in for Sandy like he did.
Standing, I tapped Sandy’s hand gently before turning and slipping out the door. She didn’t say a word, didn’t ask questions. She knew.
“Mac!” I called, jogging down the hospital hallway, my voice echoing slightly as I tried to catch him before he reached the stairs.
He turned at the sound of my voice, brows furrowed in concern as his eyes locked on mine.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, already moving toward me with urgency in every step.
“N-nothing,” I said breathlessly as I slowed to a stop. We stepped to the side of the hallway, finding a quiet pocket between the chaos around us.
“Then why are you out here with me and not in there?” he asked.
I paused, taking a moment to simply look at him. Really look at him. The way his eyes always settled me. The familiar dip of his dimples when he smiled. The way his hair curled just slightly behind his ears, messy but deliberate.
God, I loved this stupid man.
My heart raced when he was near. My skin came alive, tingling with awareness. I felt safe, seen, known. As much as I’d tried to be angry with him all those weeks ago, here I was—full circle, back where it all began.
Back in the space where the only thing that made sense…was us.
I reached out and cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb lightly across his skin. He leaned into my touch, his hand covering mine in a quiet affirmation.
I rose on my toes and kissed him. Soft. Tender. Wordless. He kissed me back without hesitation, his lips meeting mine like they remembered the rhythm by heart.
I lingered there, suspended in that hospital hallway with him. For a few stolen seconds, the world outside of us was non-existent.
When I finally pulled back, he exhaled slowly, his eyes opening to meet mine, dark and steady.
“What was that for?” he asked, voice hushed.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my hand still resting against his cheek.
“There’s no need to thank me,” he replied. “I meant what I said, Pen. I’d do anything for you. Roping the moon would be nothing if it meant being by your side.”
“I just didn’t know wha—” My voice faltered, the thought of losing Sandy choking off the words.
Mac pulled me into his arms before I could finish that sentence. I melted into his chest as the tears spilled over. His chin rested against the top of my head while his hand made slow, soothing circles along my back.
“I know,” he murmured, and I felt his voice as much as I heard it as it rumbled through me.
I cried, and he didn’t pull away. He didn’t try to fix it. He just stayed. Solid. Steady. There.
I wasn’t sure how long we stood there like that—me breaking, him holding.
Eventually, I leaned back, still wrapped in his arms.
“Do you need me to stay?” he asked gently.
I shook my head. “No. I’ll be okay.”
He studied me for a second before nodding.
“Call me the second you leave here, got it?”
“Got it,” I replied.
Mac kissed me before slowly backing away. He walked until he reached the stairwell, where he paused, gave me a final wave, and disappeared.
I stood there for a few moments, arms crossed around my middle, holding the weight of everything.
Then I turned and made my way back into the room, where Sandy still lay.
“That one’s special,” Sandy rasped, her voice laced with affection despite the grogginess, the second I walked through the door.
“He is.”
Retaking my seat, I leaned in, touching her hand on the bed.
“What happened?” I asked softly, studying her face as if I might find the answer written in the lines etched around her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Sandy admitted, her voice weak but steady. “One minute I was upright, the next I was… horizontal.”
I tried to smile, but it faltered. Her version of the story matched Mac’s he’d sent over text—there were no answers, no clarity. Just an empty space where the truth should’ve been.
“You scared me,” I whispered, my voice catching in my throat as I rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb. I couldn’t meet her eyes, not with the emotion tightening my chest. A tear slipped free and dropped silently onto the stiff white hospital blanket.
Seeing her like this—fragile, tethered to oxygen, her strength dimmed—shattered something in me. My mind couldn’t stop running through the what-ifs. What if Mac hadn’t gone? What if she hadn’t woken up? The thought alone gutted me.
“I’m okay, sweetie,” Sandy murmured, giving my hand a light squeeze, pulling me back from the edge. “But I think it’s time this old lady throws in the towel.”
My head snapped up, brows pinching together. I couldn’t imagine this town without that flower shop. Couldn’t imagine Sandy without it.
I opened my mouth to argue, but she beat me to it.
“I don’t think I can keep doing this on my own anymore,” she said gently. “It’s too much. Too much to manage at my age.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded, even though it hurt to hear. I understood more than she probably realized. Running the store solo, barely getting help except during holidays, it had taken its toll. She’d kept the business, and herself, alive after losing her husband, pouring everything she had into it.
But even the strongest women have limits.
Even Sandy.
Her fall wasn’t just a slip—it was a sign. A warning that it was time to let go of something she’d held onto for too long. And as much as it twisted my heart, I’d rather lose the flower shop than lose her.
“Our bodies need rest at some point,” I said softly, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “What does that mean for Petal Pusher?”
She sighed, her chest rising and falling in a slow inhale. “I don’t know what the future looks like yet. But for now? I think it’s okay to take a few days off.”
I nodded again. That part, at least, we could agree on. She needed time to heal, to think, to just be.
And me?
I was just thankful she was still here. Still breathing. Still able to squeeze my hand and call me sweetie. Still able to look me in the eye with that quiet strength I’d always leaned on.