The late sunlight was soft, slanting gold across storefronts and making the brick buildings glow.Thebell over the clinic door jingled when she pushed it open, and the scent of disinfectant and dog biscuits hit her all at once.
Declan looked up from behind the counter, where he was shuffling files into neat piles.Hewore that same calm expression she’d come to know.Theone that said nothing ruffled him for long.Hissmile was gentle, unguarded.
“Hey,Rose,” he said.“IfiguredImight see you.”
Her throat tightened, but she forced a small smile.“Canwe talk?”
“Of course.”Heset the files down, folding his arms on the counter like he had all the time in the world.
She leaned against the edge of it, fiddling with the edge of her apron string.Herpulse thumped in her ears, loud enough she swore he could hear it.
“I owe you an apology,” she began, words catching on her tongue.“Forletting things go as far as they did whenIwasn’t sureIcould return your feelings.”
Declan tilted his head, his mouth curving just slightly.
“I always knew.”
Her brows lifted.“Youdid?”
“I’m a good reader of people,” he said with a half-smile.“Comeswith being a veterinarian.Youlearn how to tell what’s real and what’s just been polished up.”
The truth of it hit her like a pebble to glass.Rose’sbreath caught, guilt pricking her chest.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” she whispered.
“You didn’t.”Hisvoice was steady, almost tender.“You’vegot a big heart,Rose.It’sjust… not mine to hold.”
The words loosened something inside her, and tears stung unexpectedly at the corners of her eyes.Sheblinked fast, refusing to let them fall.“Youdeserve someone who sees you first.Notas a distraction, or a safe option, but as the real thing.”
“I know.”Henodded slowly, the softest smile tugging at his lips.“AndI’llfind her.ButI’mstill gladImet you.”
Her chest squeezed.Reliefand sorrow tangled together, making it hard to breathe.Shereached across the counter, sliding her hand into his.Hispalm was warm, callused, familiar.
“Me too,” she said, and meant it.
For a long moment, they stood in that quiet, their hands joined, not as almost-somethings but as friends.Genuinely.Finally.Theair between them felt different now, lighter, freed from all the weight of expectation.
Rose eased her hand back, though the warmth lingered.Shethought of how easy it could’ve been to pretend, to let things continue as they had, to blur the lines and call it enough.ButDeclandeserved more than half-truths.Andshe did too.
“I need to get back to the coffee shop.”
“That reminds me,”Declansaid as she straightened to leave, his tone shifting like sunlight breaking through clouds, “I’vegot a vintage rolling pin from the 1940s for you.Realmaple.Ifound it at an antique store.Mightcome in handy if you ever need to beat off a jealous rival with style.”
Rose blinked, then snorted.“Let’shope it doesn’t come to that.”
But the laugh that bubbled up surprised her—light, real, almost giddy.Itshook loose some of the heaviness she’d been carrying.
As she stepped outside, the bell above the door chimed again, and she paused on the sidewalk.Theair smelled of freshly cut grass and honeysuckle, warm against her skin.Acrossthe street, kids were tossing a baseball back and forth, their shouts echoing off the buildings.Lifewent on, steady and sure.
She pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling slowly.Somethinginside her had shifted.Shehadn’t won or lost.Shehadn’t hurtDeclan, nor had he hurt her.Theyhad met in the middle, in the place where truth was softer but stronger than any illusion.
That evening,Rosestepped out the back door of the coffee shop and foundBrianaleaning against her truck.
Dressed in heels, oversized sunglasses, and spite.
“Didn’t think you had the nerve to face me again,”Rosesaid.
“I’m leaving town,”Brianaannounced, arms folded.“Forgood this time.Thoughtyou’d want to hear it from me.”
