The wordfinehit like a punch. Becket wouldn’t lie, but I knew whatfinemeant.Finewas the word people use when they’re shaking too hard to say scared. I turned the truck toward Main anyway. The wipers fought the rain; branches scattered like bones across the road. I passed Petals and Pines once on the way out earlier that morning. Harmony was inside with her sleeves rolled up and her hair pulled up, hauling buckets like she was holding the world together by sheer will. I prayed she’d stayed inside. By the time I reached town again, the worst had passed. The rain slowed to a heavy drizzle, thunder rumbling somewhere east. Becket’s cruiser sat at the curb, lights washing red and blue against the wet glass. Olivier’s truck was gone. Nico’s too. The florist’s door hung slightly off-center, a thin crack in the frame, like a wound that hadn’t healed.
Through the window, Harmony stood behind the counter, soaked and shaking, but upright. Always upright. Sandy hovered nearby, her expression tight enough to cut glass.
Becket met me at the curb. “You didn’t follow orders.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Write me up later. Tell me what happened.”
He sighed, running a hand over his jaw. “They came during the blackout. Said they wanted to talk. Nico pushed the door; Olivier cracked the latch. She called me before it escalated.”
“She shouldn’t have to call anyone,” I growled.
“She handled herself, Eric. They’re gone,” he tried to reassure me.
“Not far enough,” I muttered, already moving toward the shop.
The bell over the door chimed when I stepped in. The air smelled like rain, iron, and crushed lilacs. Harmony turned at the sound, eyes finding mine immediately. Her hair clung to her temples, and there was a faint red mark near her wrist where she must’ve grabbed the door handle too hard.
“You okay?” My voice came out rougher than I meant.
“I’m fine.” The lie was soft, practiced.
“They didn’t hurt you?”
“No. Just broke the latch. Made their point,” she said fighting to keep her voice even.
“What point?” I asked.
“That I don’t get to forget where I come from,” she said and the broken look in her green eyes nearly undid me.
Anger burned low and hot in my chest. “You didn’t forget. You just got out.”
Her lips twisted. “I thought I got out, but they aren’t happy with me. They know I was involved in my father’s arrest. They want me to make amends.”
“Dammit. I should’ve been here,” I barked, angry only at myself.
“You aren’t my protector, Eric. I can take care of myself,” she assured.
“I know you can. If I’d seen your message, I’d have come.”
“You were saving people,” she said quietly. “That’s who you are.”
“And this. . .” I gestured to the puddled floor, the cracked wood, her trembling hands “is what they leave behind.” She stared down at the bouquet she’d dropped earlier, petals scattered like bruises.
“I’m not the girl who hides anymore. I’m tired of running away. I’m here to stay and they will just have to accept that.” The determination in her voice was admirable. She always had an inner strength that drew me in like a moth to a flame.
“I know,”I said.
She looked up then, eyes glossy, guarded. The air between us thickened, heavy with everything we hadn’t said in years. She was close enough I could smell rain on her skin and the faintcitrus of whatever lotion she used. My fingers itched to reach for her.
Outside, thunder rumbled again, fading with the storm. Becket’s silhouette moved past the window, giving me the look that meantfive minutes, then get out.I didn’t move. Harmony bent to pick up a fallen vase; I reached at the same time. Our hands brushed. Just skin, damp and electric. She drew in a breath that wasn’t steady. Neither was mine.
“I locked the door,” she whispered, voice trembling around the words. But what help was it when her damn brother got in anyway?
“Hopefully they’ve learned you aren’t alone and won’t try something like this again.” My jaw ticked.
“I sure hope so.”She shrugged.
“Lock up,” I said.
