Ty nods as he reads something on his phone at the same time. “Says here that reporters were parked outside for days. Asking for comments. Asking how she felt.”
“Like she owed them something?” Owen exhales. “That’s brutal.”
I think of Juliette standing behind the counter, spine straight, voice steady. Of Theo hovering close like he’s learned the world can turn sharp without warning.
“She didn’t ask for any of it,” I say.
“No,” Liam agrees. “But she became the story anyway.”
“I didn’t know,” Owen says.
“Neither did I,” I reply, even though part of me did. I just didn’t knowwhy.But now, now I’m beginning to understand.
“So, we won’t go there for a plant unless you say it’s cool.” Ty clears his throat, his tight expression returning. “I was joking earlier.”
“I know,” I say. Still, I’m grateful.
My phone buzzes against the bench. I grab it, grateful for the interruption.
PR TEAM:
Reminder for tomorrow’s community outreach shift!! Please wear Dominion hoodie (navy) to Leaf & Letter. Juliette has agreed to a short Plant Daddy video segment !!
PR TEAM:
We want light, fun, approachable, learning curve energy!!
I groan, tipping my head back.
“What?” Owen laughs as he takes the phone out of my hand. “Oh, I see. Plant Daddy.”
“That and,” Ty’s weighing in now, tapping on the phone, too, “that’s an excessive use of exclamation marks. How is everything that exciting?”
“Cause it’s for Plant Daddy,” Owen answers.
“Don’t,” I say. “Ever.”
Ty grins. “Too late.”
“They want tutorial videos,” I add, scrolling. “This is apparently part of my redemption arc.”
I lock my phone and stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder. I picture Juliette’s shop. The way Theo watches me like he’s trying to figure out whether I’m real or just passing through.
I don’t want to mess this up.
“I’m heading out,” I say.
Owen bumps my shoulder as I pass. “Bye, Plant Daddy!”
I flip him off without slowing down—but I’m smiling.
Leaf& Letter looks different in the afternoon.
Sun streams through the front windows, lighting up the plants like they’re mid-performance—hanging, climbing, spilling wherever they feel like it. The place has a quiet rhythm all its own.
The calm doesn’t ask permission. It just shows up. Suddenly I’m standing there with my shoulders relaxed, wondering how a plant shop managed to do what pregame meditation never has.
Her scent hits me so suddenly I almost stop walking. Something floral and familiar—like magnolias and sunshine got together and decided to ruin my concentration. I have the absurd thought that if comfort had a scent, this would be it. Why does she smell so…good?
