Chapter 19
SAWYER
The reporter finally lowers her pen, eyes bright, cheeks a little pink from the warmth of the shop and the absolute circus of my last answer.
“So,” she says, glancing at her notes. “One more. The Dominion are having a golden climb to the top in their first year. Feeling good about that?”
“Feeling great,” I say. “We worked hard for it. That last stretch was brutal, but it paid off. Now it’s just about staying sharp.”
“And has spending your afternoons repotting snake plants and learning the emotional needs of ferns helped or hurt your preparation?” she asks, grinning.
I follow her gaze without meaning to and it lands on Juliette.
She’s behind the counter, arms crossed, pretending not to listen while absolutely listening.
The late-afternoon light pours in through the windows and catches in her hair, and for a second, I forget where I am. And I smile. I can’t help it.
“I don’t think it hurt at all,” I say, dragging my eyes away from her even if I don’t want to. “I’ve learned a lot about greenery and I’ve met and gotten to know one of our local business owners here in Alexandria. I’m amongst the people.”
The reporter raises a brow, amused.
“And that’s why I’m here,” I add, laying it on thick on purpose. “Working shoulder to shoulder with the people in the community.”
She snorts and scribbles. “You are…a lot, you know that?”
“Yeah,” I admit, catching Juliette cracking up as well. “It’s kind of my brand.”
Then she tilts her head, curiosity sharpening. “Okay, real talk. You used to be everywhere—magazines, gossip blogs, social feeds. Models, pop stars, red carpets. We haven’t really seen you out lately. Are you not dating? Is Sawyer Stockton really the most eligible bachelor in Alexandria?”
I feel my ears heat up as I glance back to Juliette. She’s not looking at me now. She’s pretending to organize a stack of plant tags, but her shoulders are still.
“I’m not hiding,” I say slowly. “I…things change. What you want shifts. What matters changes.”
The reporter watches me, intrigued.
“I’m more interested in being present,” I continue, my voice steady, my eyes still on Juliette. “In doing things that feel real. In being somewhere that means something.”
Juliette looks up and our eyes meet. For one quiet, electric second, no one else is here. Just me, just Juliette, and whatever this energy is flickering between us.
The reporter clicks her pen shut and offers me a quick, professional handshake. “All right, I’m out. This will be in tomorrow’s paper.”
Then she turns to Juliette with a warm smile. “Juliette, thank you so much for chatting with me earlier. We actually do a local business feature every month, and I’d really love to highlight Leaf & Letter next.”
Juliette straightens like someone just turned on a spotlight. “I would love that.”
“It comes with a full photo shoot,” the reporter adds. “Hope that’s okay.”
Juliette laughs, bright and a little disbelieving. “It’s fine. I can handle that. Thank you so much.”
“Perfect,” the reporter says. “I’ll be in touch.” She gives a last little wave and heads out the door.
The bell jingles, leaving us alone in a space of sun-warmed stillness.
“Wow.” I lift both hands in mock amazement. “Look at you, and how far you’ve come. Letting a reporter into the store and smiling when she arrived. Agreeing to photo shoots. We’re really evolving, aren’t we?”
Juliette rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Relax. I’m learning that the world is not against me, okay? One step at a time, buddy.”
“I don’t know,” I say solemnly. “Next thing you know, you’ll be waving at paparazzi and signing ficus leaves.”
She snorts, turning back toward the counter just as the bell jingles again. A woman breezes in, mid-thirties maybe, clutching a sad-looking fern like it’s personally offended her. She scans the shop, zeroes in on Juliette, and makes a beeline.
“Hi,” she says quickly. “I have a question about this plant because I’m ninety percent sure it’s dying out of spite.”
Juliette opens her mouth to respond as the shop phone rings. She freezes. Her eyes drop to the screen, then lift to mine with an apology already forming.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, juggling the fern situation and the phone. “It’s a supplier we’ve been trying to connect with, and I need to take this.”
“No problem,” I say automatically, stepping aside for her as the woman turns to me instead.
“Oh,” she says, hopeful. “Do you work here?”
Juliette mouths sorry and puts the phone to her ear, and I look down at the fern. The fern looks back at me. Accusingly.
“Define work,” I say.
The woman squints. “Do you know plants?”
“Ah,” I nod. “Yes. Plants. Big fan.”
She waits. I wait. This is happening. I have to do retail.
“Okay,” I say, clapping my hands together like that will summon competence. “So what seems to be the problem?”
“It droops,” she says.
Of course it does.
I crouch down to inspect it, because committing is important, and think of what Charlie might do. “Have you tried playing classical music for it?”
She nods. “I do that.”
“You could also give it encouragement,” I clarify. “Positive reinforcement. Maybe a nickname.”
Juliette snorts from behind the counter, still on the phone.
The woman considers this. “I did name it Kevin.”
“Strong start,” I say. “Kevin looks like he needs more light and possibly less hydration.”
She laughs, and emboldened, I keep going, some of the education Juliette and Charlie have been giving me staying at top of mind. “How often are you watering Kevin?”
“Whenever he looks thirsty.”
“Ah ha.” I peer at the soil. “Kevin is drowning.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” I say gently. “He’s more of a ‘leave me alone, but also love me from afar’ kind of guy.”
Juliette reappears, phone gone, eyes sparkling as she takes in the scene. Me on one knee. The fern. The woman nodding seriously. Sawyer Stockton. Plant consultant.
She leans on the counter, watching me with that look again. The one that says she’s amused and impressed. I’m realizing that’s the look I’m living for these days.
I straighten, handing the fern back. “Less water. More light. Fewer expectations.”
“You’ve explained that so easily!” The woman beams. “Thank you.”
The bell jingles again as the woman leaves, clutching Kevin with renewed hope, and the shop settles back into its leafy calm.
Juliette looks at me, smiling like she’s trying not to. “I leave you alone for thirty seconds.”
I shrug. “I adapt under pressure.” I glance at my phone and wince. “I’ve gotta run. Practice.”
“Of course,” she says.
I grab my jacket, slinging it over my shoulder, already wishing I didn’t have to leave. As I turn toward the door, she clears her throat. “Hey.”
I pause.
She steps closer, lowering her voice. “Can you—can I come outside with you for a second? I need to talk to you about something.”
My heart stutters. “Yeah.”
We slip out onto the sidewalk together, the door closing behind us, the city pressing in around us as everything suddenly feels very important.
Outside may be busy with late-afternoon foot traffic, but it feels strangely private standing there with her, the shop windows behind us reflecting a softer version of reality.
“So.” Juliette draws in a breath. “Theo’s dad is in town.”
I nod, keeping my face neutral. “Okay.”
“He is good at appearing suddenly like this,” she continues. “I never really know how long he’ll stay. He has this habit of saying he’s here for a while and then disappearing the moment something shinier comes along.”
Juliette may say this casually, but I’m not filing this confession away under humor. A dad who says he’ll stay, then leaves. There’s a bang in my chest centered around Theo that makes every hair on my body stand on end. A kid like Theo, and a woman like Juliette, deserve so much more.
She shakes her head, a humorless little laugh escaping. “He wants to be part of Theo’s birthday.” Her eyes flick up to mine. “It would seem that means coming to the game.”
Ah-ha. It clicks.
“Oh,” I murmur. “The box.”
“Obviously, none of this is ideal,” she says, trailing off, like she doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence.
But I do. The jumbotron. The breakup. Her nerves about arenas and cameras and being seen.
I exhale softly. “Wow. This just turned into a whole thing for you, didn’t it?”
She steps closer and puts her hand on my arm, just for a second. The contact is warm, grounding. Then she pulls back, tucking her hands into her pockets like she caught herself reaching for something she shouldn’t.
“Yeah,” she says. “I work really hard to make things easy for Theo. To make them feel…normal. So I told David it was up to you, because you’re being generous, but you don’t—”
“No,” I interrupt gently. “It’s fine.”
She blinks. “It is?”
“Of course,” I say, even as something tight curls in my chest. I don’t love the idea of her ex walking into my world, into that box, into the space I was hoping might belong to us. Eventually.
But Theo comes first. And so does her peace.
“It’s cool,” I add. “He can come.”
Her shoulders drop, relief softening her whole posture. “Thank you.”
I meet her eyes. “We’ll make it a great day.”
“That is so not cool.”
Liam’s words hit me square between the shoulder blades as we line up for drills, his tone somewhere between scandalized and delighted, like he’s already planning to tell this story to everyone with ears.
I snap my gloves into place. “I literally told her an hour ago it was fine,” I mutter. “So maybe don’t act like we’re storming the castle.”
Owen skates backward in front of me, grinning. “You’re not mad. You’re actively not fine.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It absolutely is,” Campbell says, gliding up beside us. “You look like you’re about to fight an army of stormtroopers to save a princess.”
I push off, skating harder than necessary. “I’m not fighting anything.”
“Except the fact that her ex is showing up in the Dominion VIP box,” Liam says. “To sit with your girl.”
“She is not—” I stop myself. “Juliette is not my girl.”
“Yet,” Ty mutters as he passes.
“Uh-huh,” Owen says. “And I’m the Pope.”
“I’m just saying,” I continue, jaw tight, “I don’t love the idea of some guy who bailed on his kid suddenly swooping in like he gets a medal.”
Campbell raises an eyebrow. “You’re being a little bit protective.”
“Can’t help it. Even Charlie has wormed his way into my heart.”
“So we’re protective of the shop assistant now, too?” Liam chuckles.
“Yes,” I say immediately. “We’re becoming friends.”
They all look at me. Slowly.
“Okaaay,” Liam says.
“I would do this for any of you,” I insist. “If someone messed with your people—and think about what that kid’s been through. One minute his dad’s there, the next he’s gone. Now he shows up again? That messes with a kid.”
There’s a beat of silence as we skate in lazy circles.
Ty clears his throat. “He’s got a point.”
Everyone looks at him.
“What?” Ty shrugs. “I grew up with divorced parents. When one of them kept popping in and out, it screwed with my head. You don’t forget that stuff.”
Liam’s expression softens. Owen’s grin fades.
“Yeah,” Campbell says quietly. “That’s fair.”
I exhale, tension still buzzing in my chest. I told Juliette it was fine. I meant it. For Theo, it is. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Because somewhere between a plant shop and a voicemail, I started caring about that kid. About Charlie. And about Juliette. Once that happens? You don’t stop being protective. You learn how to hide it behind a smile.
Ty skates up beside me, voice low. “Look, man. If you really like her, play the long game. There’s no rush. You don’t need to win anything today.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.
Campbell watches my face a little too closely. Then his eyes widen.
“Oh. Wait a second now,” he says slowly. “You haven’t dated anyone since you met her, have you?”
“That’s not—”
“Have you even been answering your DMs?” Owen asks.
“I don’t—”
Liam bursts out laughing as he pulls a twenty-dollar bill out of his pants. “Oh man, he’s a goner.”
“I am not a goner,” I say, which comes out way too fast to be convincing. I’d argue the point more but I’m too busy watching Liam give that twenty bucks to Campbell. “Why do you have twenty dollars in your pants?”
“I bet your cousin that you wouldn’t fall for her at all,” Liam responds with a shrug.
“His loss, my financial gain.” Campbell grins, tucking the cash in his pants. Gross, mental note to not borrow money from those two because who knows what has sweated on it. “You’re done, buddy. You’re absolutely done.”
“Look at him,” Owen says. “The golden boy of Alexandria, brought down by a woman who sells plants.”
“I do not sell plants,” I snap, mishearing but realizing it too late. “She sells plants.”
Ty nods approvingly. “See? He knows the difference. It’s serious.”
They all laugh, skating loose and easy now, ribbing me the way guys only do when they’ve figured you out.
“Let the kid’s dad come,” Liam says. “You’re the guy she’s spending time with now. She’s seeing who you are, and what’s he got? A bad reputation and a trail of missed milestones.”
Campbell smirks. “Yeah. You’re not losing this one.”
I laugh with them, shaking my head, pretending my chest isn’t doing something complicated and terrifying and way too real.
But even as the noise and joking swirl around me, one truth stays sharp and steady in my mind. Jokes aside, Theo’s dad is still his dad.
He gets a seat in that box, because of me.
He gets a chance with his son, because of her.
And I’ve managed to volunteer myself right into a night where I might be fighting for more than just a win on the scoreboard.