I don’t answer. She already knows.
“Well, it doesn’t. Not in this case,” she says fiercely. “It makes you a protector. My sister uses people like chess pieces, cuts them with her words, and still walks around like she’s a saint. I’d rather be stained withyourkind of blood thanherkind of cruelty.”
Her words slam into me like a punch to the gut.
I reach for her again, but she’s already standing.
“Eat the bagel,” she says, pointing to the plate. “And if you don’t sleep, I swear to God I’ll knock you out with lavender oil. I have some in my bag.”
Her bossiness would annoy me if it didn’t turn me on.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, voice low.
She smiles at me. A little smug. A little proud.
And a lot mine.
Chapter 10
Nya
Thesunfiltersinthrough the front windows of Wild Petals, casting long golden streaks across the polished wood floor. I breathe in the scent of flowers, the peace of the space grounding me. After the night we had, I needed this.
Caleb—Ghost—was still asleep when I slipped out this morning. He’d looked so peaceful sprawled in bed, one arm across my side of the mattress, as if reaching for me in his sleep. I pressed a soft kiss to his temple and whispered that I’d be at the shop. Work waited.
Now, standing at the front of my shop with a pair of shears in hand and blossoms in every direction, it feels like I’ve returned to my center.
Murphy hollers through the open window of his food truck, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder, that familiar mischievous grin already in place.
"Well, well," he says. "Look who’s finally gracing us with her presence. I didn’t see you at all yesterday evening. Busy, were we?"
I arch a brow. "Murphy, I’m not even going to dignify that with a response."
"That’s as good as a confession," he says, chuckling as he sets the cups down near the espresso machine. "You got that look in your eye. Like someone wrecked your world, in a good way."
I toss a flower stem at him. He dodges, still grinning.
"I have a business to run," I say, smoothing the petals of a bouquet. "So if you’re done being a menace—"
"Almost."
He grabs his delivery clipboard, checks the top page, then looks back at me. "I’ve got a big drop to make. Shouldn’t be gone more than an hour. If anyone comes by and starts getting antsy, just tell them to wait. I’m worth waiting for."
I smile at him. "I’m sure they’ll wait, Murph."
He winks and heads out.
I return inside to my arrangements, losing myself in the hum of soft music and the rhythm of trimming, wrapping, tying. It’s meditative, the kind of quiet work that helps me breathe.
Then the front door swings open.
And everything inside me stills.
Jessica.
Of course she’s immaculate. A beige trench coat, glossy hair, dark sunglasses perched atop her head like a crown. She looks like she stepped out of a department store ad.
"Nya," she says with mock sweetness, lips curved like a dagger. "Fancy seeing you here."
