My brother exhales. “I saw the way he was looking at you, Jules.” His voice is almost gentle now. “It wasn’t one night to him.”
My throat tightens.
“I don’t care what it was to him,” I say, lifting my chin. “It’s over.”
Sarge tilts his head. “But is it?”
I force a shrug. “He has Susan.”
His whole face scrunches. “He has a girlfriend? And you still slept with him?”
“I didn’t know about her until this morning,” I snap, defensive. “Or I never would have, you know, painted his blank canvas.”
Sarge throws up both hands. “I don’t need visuals, thanks.”
A sigh pulls from my chest. “I know how bad this looks, okay? That’s why it won’t happen again.”
Sarge studies me for a long moment. Then, finally, he nods. “I have to head out on deliveries.” He gestures over his shoulder. “Just don’t let him back in, Jules.”
I feel something splinter in my chest.
“You worked so hard to create this amazing life for yourself.” His tone changes. “In spite of him.”
That’s what he thinks. That I built this life to spite Corbin. But the truth is I built it because I had to. Because if I didn’t pour myself into something—my shop, my son—I would’ve drowned in the heartache of losing him.
I swallow hard. “It won’t happen again.”
Sarge’s green eyes soften. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just love you.” He hesitates. “And the thought that he might hurt you again? I don’t know how you and Tate would get through that.”
I drop my gaze. “I know.”
Sarge leaves, and the air feels too still without him.
I stare at the spot where he stood, his words lingering.
Corbin didn’t just break my heart when he filed for divorce. He broke Tate’s, too. And now, Tate is forgetting things. Acting out.
I can’t let Corbin back in.
Not when my son needs me more.
I watch from the window as my brother’s car disappears down the road. Sarge has always looked out for me. Always.
After our dad left when we were kids, it was just the two of us holding each other together while everything else fell apart.
Sarge and Corbin used to be close. Best friends, even. Brothers. Until Corbin left me. And I think, in some way, Sarge felt like he left him, too.
Because Sarge and me? We don’t do well when people leave.
I need a distraction.
I water African violets. Peace lilies. Orchids. Strings of hearts. I pour myself into the soil and leaves and petals, hoping that as the flowers grow, so will my resolve.
After I close up the shop, I toss my flower crown into the empty basket where I keep my Wednesday creations. Every Wednesday, I make flower crowns for my customers and hand them out. Because I believe too many people miss out on the beauty of small things. Flower crowns. Coffee beans. Rainbow sprinkles. Dollops of whipped cream. They make life sweeter.
And if I can give someone that—even for a moment—then I will.
“Mom?”
