Chapter 1 #2
Mia stands firm, shoulders squared, chin lifted, her eyes still smoldering with that stubborn spark.
She’s always had that fire, that unyielding need to prove herself.
I remember it from when we were younger—the way she would never back down, even when she was wrong.
It was a trait I admired in her, even when I didn’t fully understand it.
Now, standing in front of me, it’s impossible not to see just how much she’s changed. There’s no trace of the girl who would sneak into my truck for a ride when Jake and I were out late, no trace of the one who would roll her eyes at my jokes or tease me when I was too serious.
Mia is no longer the little sister who needed protection. She’s a woman who stands on her own. And in a way, it scares me.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “Mia, I don’t want to fight you,” I say, my voice quieter than I intend. It feels hollow, unsure. “I never came back to stir things up. I came back to honor Collins’s wishes. That’s it.”
Her lips twist into something that isn’t quite a smile, but it’s close enough.
It’s the kind of smile that’s meant to hide the hurt, the frustration, the pain that’s been simmering under the surface for years.
She’s been carrying all of it on her shoulders for so long, and now it’s spilling out, uncontrolled, and I can feel every drop of it.
“You don’t get to walk back in here like nothing’s changed,” she says, her voice soft but laced with steel. “You don’t get to walk in and pretend that you haven’t been gone for all these years.”
She takes a step forward, the space between us shrinking even more. I want to take a step back, to put more distance between us, but I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot.
“I didn’t pretend, Mia,” I say, my words coming out faster than I mean. “I didn’t pretend to forget this place. I didn’t pretend to forget what Collins meant to me.”
She laughs, the sound sharp and bitter. “What, so you’re here now because he died? Because now you’ve got nothing else to run from?”
I open my mouth to speak, but the words get stuck.
There’s a lump in my throat, an unfamiliar weight pressing down on me.
She’s right. I’ve been running my whole life.
Running from this town. Running from my past. Running from people I care about.
I was good at it. I thought I was better off that way.
But standing here, feeling the weight of her gaze, the weight of the shop pressing in on me, I realize that maybe I wasn’t.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to push the thought away. “I came back because he asked me to. He wanted me to help. And that’s all I’m here to do. To help. To honor what he left behind.”
Mia doesn’t look convinced. “Help? You don’t even know the first thing about what this shop means to me. Or to this town.”
I flinch, the words cutting deep. She’s right again.
I’ve been away too long. I’ve missed too much.
I thought I could just waltz in and fix things, but I can see now that it’s not that simple.
This isn’t just about flowers or business.
This is about her—this is about Mia. And the more I try to explain, the more I realize that the distance between us isn’t just physical.
It’s emotional. It’s a chasm I’ve spent years building.
“I know it’s not that simple,” I say, my voice rough now. “But I’m willing to learn. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help.”
She doesn’t respond right away. For a long moment, we just stand there, the silence stretching between us, thick and heavy.
Finally, Mia lets out a slow breath, the anger in her eyes flickering, softening just enough for me to see the vulnerability beneath. “I’ve been running this place on my own for years, Luke,” she says quietly. “It’s not just a business to me. It’s my mother’s legacy. It’s all I have left.”
I feel the weight of her words settle in my chest, heavy and unyielding. “I know,” I say softly. “I know, Mia. I know.”
She looks at me for a long, quiet moment, the flicker of something new passing between us—something that doesn’t feel like anger anymore. It feels like understanding.
And for the first time since I walked through that door, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m not as out of place here as I thought.
The air between Mia and me feels thick, almost suffocating.
Every breath I take seems heavier than the last. The room around me grows quieter, as if the very walls are waiting for something—waiting for either of us to make the next move.
The lawyer, who’s been silent for too long, shifts his weight nervously, but even his unease doesn’t break the tension.
It’s just the two of us now, the space between us charged with everything we haven’t said and everything we’re afraid to say.
I shift uncomfortably on my feet, realizing how long it’s been since I’ve stood still.
The world I used to know was always moving—always loud, always filled with the sound of sirens or engines or people shouting.
But here, in this quiet flower shop, it feels different.
It feels like I’m standing still, frozen in time, while the world around me moves on without me.
“Mia, I’m not here to take anything from you,” I say, my voice coming out softer than I intend. “I’m not here to make things harder.”
She looks at me, her arms still crossed, but now her posture is less defensive and more weary, like she’s been fighting for far too long.
Her eyes soften just a fraction, but the pain and frustration are still there, just beneath the surface.
I can see it in the way she holds herself, the way she doesn’t quite meet my gaze for too long.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she says quietly, her voice quieter than before but still sharp. “This shop, it’s not just a business to me. It’s everything. It’s my mom’s dream. It’s my life. It’s not just about the flowers or the money or the building. It’s about what it means.”
I feel the weight of her words sink in, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond.
I’ve been so focused on my own reasons for being here, on fulfilling my promise to Collins, that I haven’t really seen the full picture.
I haven’t seen how much this place means to her.
How much she’s given up to keep it running, to keep it alive.
“I know,” I say finally, the words catching in my throat. “I know, Mia. And I didn’t come here to take that from you. I don’t want to take anything from you. But I don’t know what else to do. Collins asked me to come back. He trusted me to help.”
She glances down at the papers in front of me, her brow furrowing, and I can see the conflict playing out behind her eyes. I know she’s angry. She has every right to be. But I also know that she’s trying to keep herself together. Trying to hold on to the pride she has in this place.
“You think six months is enough to fix all of this?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Six months to change everything? You think that’s going to make a difference?”
I feel a pang in my chest, but I don’t let it show. I want to tell her that I’m not just here for six months. That I’m here for as long as it takes. But those words feel like promises I’m not sure I can keep.
“I think six months is enough to start,” I say. “And I don’t expect things to be perfect overnight. But I’m willing to try. To help however I can.”
Mia doesn’t respond right away. She just stands there, looking at me, her gaze unreadable. The silence stretches between us, heavy and thick, and I feel every moment of it.
Finally, she takes a step back, breaking the tension, but her eyes never leave me. “I don’t know if I believe you, Luke,” she says softly. “But I’ll give you six months. Six months to prove that you’re really here to help.”
Her words are soft but firm, like a quiet challenge. I can see the flicker of hope in her eyes, buried beneath all the hurt and the years of carrying this shop on her own.
“I’ll do everything I can,” I promise. “You have my word.”
She nods slowly, still unsure, but something in her eyes softens just the slightest bit. The challenge is still there, but there’s a hint of something else, something I can’t quite name.
The lawyer clears his throat, bringing me back to reality. “Well, if that’s settled, we can proceed with the paperwork.”
Mia’s eyes flick to the door, then back to me. “We’ll see how it goes,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a murmur.
I nod, knowing that the next six months won’t be easy. But I also know that they’ll be worth it.