“How’d you sleep?” he asked gently.
“Better than I have in years.”
He smiled. “Good. You needed that.”
Before I could sit, my phone buzzed.
Becket.
“Go ahead,” Eric said.
I opened the text.
Becket:Break-ins on Main Street. Back doors forced. Keep an eye out.
My heart dropped.
“Main Street?” Eric’s voice sharpened. “The shop.”
“I need to check on Petals and Pines.”
“You’re not going alone.” His tone left no room for debate. “Finish your coffee. We’ll go together.”
But even as I nodded, dread curled under my ribs.
CHAPTER 21
Harmony
Rain misted the windshield as we drove toward downtown, the wipers pushing aside streaks of gray that blurred Main Street into a wash of brick and glass. Festival banners hung limp between the lampposts, their bright colors dulled by the weather. The street should’ve been busy at this hour. Instead, it felt hollowed out, too quiet, like the town was holding its breath. Eric pulled up in front of the bakery and cut the engine. The sudden silence made my pulse spike.
“Wait here,” he said, already reaching for the door. “I’ll check the locks.”
“I can help,” I started.
He looked at me then, rain-dark hair plastered to his forehead, jaw set. “Harmony.”
That tone wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was the same one he used on fire calls, the one that saidthis isn’t a discussion.
“Okay,” I said, though every instinct I had bristled.
He jogged through the drizzle and disappeared inside the bakery, the bell jangling once before the door shut behind him. I stayed in the truck for all of ten seconds. The street felt wrong. Not empty justwatched.My gaze drifted to the floral shopacross the road. Petals and Pines looked dark, the shop lights off, the upstairs windows shadowed. Then I saw it, a curtain upstairs shifted, just barely, like someone had stepped back from the glass. My stomach dropped.Stay put,I told myself. I didn’t listen. I never did. I was trained to not shy away from danger, and that instinct was something I still hadn’t tamed. The floral shop door opened with a soft click, no resistance at all. That alone sent a chill through me. Sandy never left it unlocked.
“Sandy?” I called, my voice echoing too loudly in the quiet shop.
Quiet.
The air smelled faintly of damp greenery and overturned soil. One of the display buckets had tipped near the counter, water pooling on the tile. My heart hammered as I stepped farther inside. Then something moved. A hand clamped around my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. The smell hit me first, leather, smoke, and something bitter underneath.
“Well, well,” a voice sneered close to my ear. “Look who crawled home.”
“Olivier, are you insane?” I snapped at my brother.
“As if you’re one to talk,” he retorted.
I twisted, but he shoved me back against the wall before I could pull free. Pain flared through my shoulder, sharp and immediate, stealing the breath from my lungs.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” he hissed. His eyes were wild, sunken, familiar in the worst way. “This town doesn’t forget what you did to our father.”
