Page 125 of Tempest’s Torment

That was it.

Marcus helped me get out of that farmhouse alive, and I'm grateful he finally saw his brother for what he was, but it doesn't undo everything that came before it. He followed me for months. He learned my routine, planted a listening device in my home, and helped Evan take me.

Whatever Marcus has to make peace with now belongs to him. I don't need to help him do it.

Louise is standing inside the door of Petals when I arrive for my first shift back.

She looks at me, then at the clock on the wall. "You're two minutes late."

I stop with one hand still on the door. "We don't open until nine."

"You're usually here at eight forty-five."

"It's eight forty-seven."

"Exactly." She steps aside and gestures impatiently for me to get inside. "If you make a habit of it, I'm taking it out of your lunch break."

I stare at her, her expression doesn't change. A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, and something in her face softens. Then she points toward the back. "I've got three deliveries waiting and Cara ordered far too many roses again."

"I heard that," Cara calls from somewhere behind the shelves.

"Good."

I close the door behind me. My coffee is sitting beside the till. I pick it up and take a sip. Louise is already halfway to the flower buckets, fussing with something that doesn't need fussing with. "Thanks."

She waves a hand without looking at me. "It's coffee, Lilah."

I take another sip and follow her into the back. The first hour is harder than I expected. Every time the door opens, I tense up.

The first man who walks in makes my stomach tighten before I can stop it. He's about seventy, wants an anniversary bouquet for his wife, and spends ten minutes arguing with Louise because she tells him carnations are not romantic.

By ten, I'm laughing. By eleven, I'm elbow-deep in greenery, trying to fix a sympathy arrangement that refuses to sit the way I want it to, and I realize I haven't looked at the door in nearly an hour. I pause with the scissors in my hand, acknowledge it, then I go back to the flowers.

Three days later, the bell above the door rings while I'm at the workbench.

I glance up automatically. Kai.

He's barely two steps inside before I smile.

He catches it. Of course he does.

"Hey."

"Hey."

He walks over and leans one forearm against the counter, pretending there is absolutely nothing unusual about him appearing in the middle of my shift.

"Need flowers?"

"No."

"Card?"

"No."

"Balloon?"

His eyes narrow. "Do I look like I need a balloon?"