Page 33 of Tempest’s Torment

“Umm...” I mumble, trying to figure out what to say.

"You look through the window," she adds. "Every time you do, your shoulders get tense and then they ease after you finish looking."

I don't say anything, what is there to say? She’s noticed what I do, even though I didn’t think it was obvious when I did it.

"I'm not pushing," she says. "I'm just letting you know that I’m here if you need me."

"I know you are," I whisper, blinking rapidly to stop the tears that are building from falling.

She snips a stem. "The sunflowers."

"Cara—"

"I'm not asking." She picks up another. "I just want you to know I noticed it bothered you, and if you want to talk about it, I'm here. And if you don't, that's fine too." She looks at me over the top of her glasses. "But I threw them out for a reason."

I look at the workbench. "I know," I say quietly. "Thank you."

"I have family," she says after a minute, not looking up. "Two daughters and a son who think calling twice a month is sufficient. Three grandkids, all of them loud, all of them perfect." She smiles at the arrangement, not at me. "Big, noisy family Sunday dinners, everyone talking over each other, at least one child crying about something at any given moment." She pulls in a sharp breath. "I know that's not something you've got, not here anyway."

I keep my eyes on the roses; my heart racing and my breathing is rapid. I try to keep calm, but Cara won’t stop talking.

"I'm not trying to make it into something," she says. "I just want you to know you've got me, while you're here, for whatever that's worth. You don't have to tell me anything, you don't have to explain yourself. But you're not nothing to nobody, Lilah. Not on my watch."

I have to look away. "It's worth a lot," I say through the lump in my throat.

She makes a small, satisfied sound. "Good. Now stop being emotional and help me finish these table pieces before the bride calls again."

I release a soft laugh. God, Cara always knows how to make me laugh.

By lunchtime, the worst of the wedding order is behind us. I eat lunch in the back room because I don't have the energy to sit in the park today. The sandwich barely tastes like anything.

Cara comes through a few minutes later, grabs her lunch from the refrigerator, gives me a quick smile, and disappears again. She doesn’t speak or ask any more questions, which I’m grateful for.

I take another bite of my sandwich and my mind drifts back to this morning. To Tempest as he checked the street before he got on his bike, it was a quick check, left, then right before pulling on his helmet.

He never mentioned the SUV or even asked me about it. He just looked like he wanted to make sure everything was clear before he left.

I stare down at my sandwich. I'm thinking about a man I barely know. I know he rides a Harley, I know his road name is stitched onto the front of his cut, and I know he carries groceries one bag at a time because he'd rather make two trips than risk dropping anything.

I know he notices things, recent events proved that. I don't know why any of it matters, maybe it doesn't, maybe I'm just looking for something normal to focus on after the last few days.

That has to be it.

I finish the last bite of my sandwich and crumple the wrapper; the workbench is waiting. Flowers make more sense than people.

There’s a sunflower delivery that comes once I finish lunch. This time, it’s not for me. A customer ordered a birthday bouquet, and the wholesaler dropped off fresh stems for me to arrange.

The second I lift the bucket from the box, my hands stop moving.

They're just flowers, I know they are, yellow petals and dark centers.

But all I can see is Lucy, standing in our tiny kitchen with yellow pollen dusting the end of her nose. She brushes against one of the blooms without realizing it. I laugh, and she frowns at me, completely confused, until I point at her face.

"What?" she asks.

I shake my head, still laughing. "You've got something..."

She wipes at her cheek. "No."