Chapter One
Fredrick
I never thought I’d come home at all - much less for my father’s funeral.
Stepping out of the Uber, the familiar sights of my hometown hit me like a wave. Somehow, the air smells the same, that choking scent of fresh-cut grass, damp earth, and a hint of gasoline.
The distant chatter of people going about their day takes me back to when people would stop talking when they thought I could hear them.
Well, I”m back. Not because I want to be, but because duty calls - the unforgiving, frustrating duty of burying someone who never loved you and that you had to pretend to love... for a time, anyway.
Leaving home meant I could stop lying to myself; I could face what my parents put me through.
So yeah, one could say that I’m glad my father is gone.
But the bastard doesn’t deserve anything more than my anger and hatred.He’s earned those.
I”d asked the Uber driver to stop a little way away from my destination. And now I”m walking down the streets, catching glimpses of my past as memories dance like ghosts in every corner.
My eyes trace the old movie theater where I had my first fistfight. I’d escaped with a black eye, but the other guy had it way worse.
The diner where I”d shared my first kiss with Stacy Moore. She’d wanted more all right, and we’d had fun.
And the old flower shop that May used to run. Now the sign says Lila’s Flowers. I can”t help but stop and stare, a sense of pride and satisfaction rolling over me. Hot damn, she’d done it. She’d made her dream a reality.
Too bad I’m about to tank her whole career.
I hesitate, staring at the building as my mind drifts to the past.
Lila had always been a dreamer, with her heart set on the future. I’d gone to the flower shop in search of May - the only person who had felt like family to me throughout my childhood years and teenage years - when I’d met a pair of sky-blue eyes framed by dark hair.
After her initial surprise, she”d gone right back to work as if I didn’t exist. I”d listened to her talk with customers about flowers, events, weddings, and everything to do with flowers. I’d sensed that the flower shop was her sanctuary, a place she could feel safe, free, and happy. I didn’t understand, but I admired her ability to stay grounded, in spite of what life threw at her.
I’d just watched her, waiting for May, as Lila proved she had a way with flowers. She knew them by name on sight, knew just how to care for them, and how to arrange them into bouquets filled with harmony and beauty.
I remembered thinking she was beautiful in her element, her apron dusted with pollen, her hands gently arranging a bouquet, her smile quick to flash when anyone had a question for her.
And I just watched her, pretending to read a book, as she explained to one customer why peonies would be perfect for a spring wedding. While I hadn’t had any interest in flowers, her knowledge was impressive, and I couldn”t help but feel her passion as the evidence of it lit up her face and colored her voice.
Then her gaze had ticked to me and the whole world stood still.
The customer left and a slight frown tugged the corners of her lips.
“What?” I asked, aware I’d been caught in the act.
“You know May is on lunch. Why are you hanging around?” she’d asked in that softly melodious voice as she planted her hands on her hips.
I lifted my shoulders, the book forgotten in my hands. “To get under your skin, obviously. You’re going to own your own flower shop one day, and I need to be in your good graces in case you hire May.”
Her eyes had widened at my words, but she nodded at my book, arching an expressive eyebrow. “Your book is upside down,” she said.
I closed the book, checking to see if she was right, and of course she was.
That memory has stayed with me, a reminder of the young woman with the power to make me overlook the complications in my life. The one who treated me like a person when everyone else saw me as a means to an end.
Two women in exercise clothes, one pushing a baby stroller, walk past me, their gazes on my face until they pass me, and their furious whispers meet my ears. I haven’t been back more than a few minutes, but the gossip is already likely spreading like wildfire.
I said I wouldn’t come back except to bury my parents.
And that was true - but of course there is more to my homecoming than just a father who likely asked for me to not be present for his funeral, anyway.
I glance at the flower shop again, wondering how May is doing and how much Lila has changed over the years, not that I’d ever admit the latter. The flower shop is still a beacon of something pure in the town that I’d never fit into... and I never would. And now I don’t want to.
I continue my walk, but my mind doesn’t leave the flower shop, or Lila, or my past.
“Fredrick Tecker,”
I turn as someone says my name in an incredulous voice.Vivian Price walks up to me, her thin, blonde ponytail swishing. Time had etched lines into her face and left the space beside her chin sagging lightly. She is my age, but heavy alcohol use and her secret shame smoking habit had aged her before her time.
“Vivian Price,” I say, my voice chilly as I take in her disheveled appearance. She might be the last person I expected to see upon returning to town, but then again, this place never failed to surprise me. Vivian and I have a history, one that runs deep and had left scars that aren’t visible but are still tender to the touch.
“What are you doing back here?” she asks, her gaze sharp as she searches my face for something. A weakness she can exploit, no doubt. I learned long ago to keep my cards close to my chest, especially when it comes to Vivian. That lesson has since extended to everyone I know and meet, and I have zero doubt that caution has saved me more times than I can count.
“Didn’t you hear? My dad is dead,” I say in as nonchalant a voice as I can muster.
She nods her head, recognition shifting her features. But there is no pity, kindness, or understanding. “Right. You’d come home to bury him. I thought it was another empty threat.”
I lift both shoulders, but she doesn’t seem satisfied with my response. She raises an eyebrow, clearly not accepting my casual tone. “You’re still a cold sonovabitch, huh?” she asks, a hint of mockery in her voice. “Well, don’t let me keep you from whatever important business brings you back to this godforsaken place.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I say with a grin designed to infuriate her.
Vivian”s eyes flash with anger, but she quickly masks it with a tight smile. “Oh, I’m not worried,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain as she eyes me like something someone might track in off the lawn on the bottom of their shoe. “I’m just surprised you had the guts to show your face in this town again. It’s a shame your father won’t be around to see how much of a disappointment you turned out to be.”
With that blow, she turns to leave, pulling her phone from her pocket and giving her ponytail a flick.
“I’m surprised you show your face anywhere - you’ve aged like milk.” With a dark chuckle, I continue walking, hearing her shout at me.
“Asshole!”
Years of practice help me keep my expression amused even when I’ve been emotionally kicked in the dick. Dealing with the people in this town is like navigating a minefield—every step has to be calculated to avoid setting off explosions.
And while Vivian”s words sting more than I care to admit, they aren’t entirely unexpected. She has always been a master at twisting the knife, enjoying any opportunity to remind me of my past mistakes and failures. But as I walk away from her, her harsh anger echoing in my ears, I can”t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction that I still managed to hurt her feelings.
I cross the road and stand in front of the flower shop.
The sleek, modern sign is new, and somehow suits Lila, even though I don’t know her anymore. Glancing up into the gray clouds gathering overhead, I catch the unmistakable scent of impending rain.
I hesitate for a moment, torn between the comfort of familiar blooms and memories of May and the uncertainty of facing Lila again. But curiosity gets the better of me, and before I know it, I’m pushing open the shop door and stepping inside.
The familiar scent of earth and petals envelopes me as I enter, and I inhale, letting the familiarity calm my racing thoughts. The shop is quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant sound of a radio playing a tune I’d loved as a teenager. All around me colors and greenery offer a sense of comfort and I can’t help a smile.
“You know May is on lunch. What are you doing here?”
I glance over to see Lila standing behind the counter with a thoughtful expression on her face as she arranges a bouquet of sunflowers, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than I expected. My heart begins to beat double time.
“Just taking a stroll down memory lane,” I say, trying to keep my tone light as I approach the counter. Putting both palms on the cool stainless steel, I watch Lila’s eyes narrow slightly, as if she is trying to decipher the truth behind my words. She had always been perceptive, even when we were teens. That quality frustrated and intrigued me back then, but now it feels like a dangerous game.
Lila hasn”t changed much over the years - her hair is still a cascade of black silk, her sky-colored eyes still hold a twinkle of mischief. But there is a guardedness in her expression now, a wariness that hadn”t been there before.
”I just... wanted to see how things were going,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, despite the turmoil of emotions churning inside me.
“Well, you’ve certainly picked an interesting place to remember,” she says with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There is a tension between us, thick like the storm clouds outside ready to open up and dump rain on everything.
I lean against the counter, pretending to be interested in a display of potted succulents to avoid her probing gaze. “How have you been, Lila? It’s been a while.”
Her hands still as she regards me with quiet eyes. “I’ve been... managing,” she says finally, her voice carefully neutral. “Things have been different since you left.”
Is that… guilt I feel as I think about how I’d up and vanished on her and May? “I’m sorry for leaving without a word,” I say softly, meeting her gaze and hoping she can see that I mean the words.
Lila”s expression softens, just a tiny bit, but enough to give me hope. She moves the bouquet on the counter and shifts her weight, the warmth of her presence reaching out as if to thaw the icy barrier I”d built around myself. “You don”t owe me any apologies or explanations,” she says, her voice gentle yet firm. “Besides, things were... complicated back then.”
I nod, grateful for her understanding as the sour taste of guilt rises up in me for how I”d left things between us. “Complicated is an understatement,” I say with a wry smile, hoping to ease some of the tension that lingers between us.
Lila”s lips lift in a small smile that almost instantly fades, as if something had come crashing down in her mind. “Well, things are different now. I’m sorry about your dad.” The words feel like an afterthought, an obligatory kindness that betrays she remembers how I feel about my parents.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling even more guilty at what I was going to do to her.