Alice Moore
Seriously, you can’t be that busy, June. No one buys your flowers. They’re always wilting anyways
Well, at least she hadn’t called me names yet. I silenced her messages and tossed my phone down, shaking my head as I fought the tremble rolling through my body.
Without fail, she always made me feel small. But I’d be damned if she’d ruin my day for more than two minutes.
So many times, I’d considered leaving Whynot. I could get away from her. Away from the nosiness that was default around here. Whynot was a small town that didn’t have the allure of a city. It was quaint and quiet and mostly peaceful, aside from when we had tourists rolling through for festivals. The fall festival planning was already well under way and I was looking forward to seeing so many people in our streets with their fresh boots. I was also looking forward to supporting my friends while they did the planning . . . and then asked me last minute to runsomething.That’s how it always went, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Whynot was home. I’d built something for myself here. I had the endurance of a weed sprouting through the cracks of a sidewalk, and refused to be yanked from my roots.
The bell above my front door jingled as it swung open, pulling me from my daydreams. I straightened as my niece bounded into the shop with a cheesy smile.
Behind her was my younger brother.
Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets with a smile that never quite reached his eyes anymore. It used to, before Rebecca. But since she left him and Laura, he hadn’t been the same. I was pretty sure she’d completely shattered the man, and for that—I loathed her with every cell in my body.
“Aunt June, Aunt June,” Laura chimed. “Can we go to Avery’s to paint? Dad said we could do an art class but he has to do something.”
My niece would be an amazing auctioneer with how fast she could talk. I snorted and leaned forward over my counter, arching a brow at her. “Did you have coffee?”
She balked. “No! Of course not. Can I?”
“Absolutely not.” I did not want to imagine a world where my niece got a hold of caffeine. I suppressed a shudder. “You’d talk so fast my ears would start to smoke.”
Laura grinned and I narrowed my eyes. She’d lost another tooth sometime in the last couple of days.
“Did the tooth fairy come?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, and then glanced back at her dad. “I got twenty dollars and I want to spend it on candy, but Dad said we should spend it on something else.”
“Well, that’s the perk of it being tooth fairy money. You can buy what you want.”
Ethan met my gaze. I already knew that look. I loved my brother. I really did. But he always needed something, andshowing up without a text was usually a sure indicator that he was about to ask.
“What’s up?” I aimed for nonchalance, and ended up sounding squeaky.
He winced. “I was going to see if you could watch Laura tonight and tomorrow.”
“Until tomorrow?” I echoed.
Laura looked between us, her cheeks reddening slightly. “One day I’ll be old enough to watch myself and then it’ll be much better. I can walk to school tomorrow?—”
“No, it’s okay,” I rushed out. “I can take you to school. I love having you around, Laura. You’re my favorite niece in the whole world.”
“I’m your only niece,” she pointed out.
“And that makes you even more special.” I swallowed hard, already steeling myself for whatever Ethan needed from me. “How about you go down the street to Evie’s? Tell her I sent you. See if she’ll give you a croissant or something.”
“Okay,” she said excitedly.
Ethan stepped aside as she rushed out of the shop. Part of me was tempted to text Evie and give her a heads up, but I knew she didn’t need one.
I wasn’t sure what I’d do without Avery and Evie. We’d been friends since kindergarten and had been damn near inseparable since then, aside from when Avery went to college. They were my ride or dies. They always had my back. And that included stepping into an auntie role for Laura as I helped my brother navigate life as a single dad.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I went to a meeting last night. I have therapy tomorrow, and it always leaves me drained after. I’m trying, I just . . .”
He couldn’t be a parent. Not while he was putting himself back together.
