Chance to Bloom Read online

  Frankie rolled his eyes, but grinned anyway. “And keep going?”

  “You know he’s right,” Ethan said, smiling back. He wasn’t surprised at all that Frankie had recognized the classic Gary-ism. “I think it’s pretty good advice.”

  Ethan felt a little better as they closed up the shop and left for the day, the feeling of Gary’s presence and his wisdom guiding them—just the way he always had when he’d been alive. He hoped Frankie could feel it, too. If Gary’s sudden passing had taught Ethan anything, it was that he couldn’t predict or control the future, but he hoped that as long as he kept doing what was right—the way Gary had taught him—that when Jack did finally come and take over, he’d start to love the place as much as Ethan and Frankie did.

  And really, the man was Gary’s son, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

  Chapter 2

  Jack

  Jack secured the last box in the bed of his beat-up red pickup and slammed the tailgate shut before looking back at the apartment he was about to leave behind. He wasn’t sure if it was funny or pathetic that after ten years in the Marines—basically his entire adult life—everything he owned could fit in the back of his truck, with plenty of space left over.

  Hell, it wasn’t even a full-size pickup.

  Jack clenched his jaw, looking over his packing job. Yeah, probably more pathetic than funny, but he’d never needed a lot of stuff—and he’d never had time to enjoy what little he had, anyway. Over the past ten years, he’d been on deployment to the unforgiving desert of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan more times than he could count. Other guys dreaded the back-to-back deployments that kept them away from family and friends, but Jack had always been eager to go. He’d been his CO’s go-to guy, right up until the minute the Corps decided his body might not be able to handle it anymore.

  He turned away from the truck, spitting on the ground as he crossed the gravel parking lot back toward the now half-furnished apartment where he’d bunked whenever he was in-country for the last few years. It looked threadbare and deserted without his belongings. Tyler, his soon-to-be-former roommate, wasn’t any more of a homemaker than Jack had been.

  “I guess that’s everything,” Jack said, nodding in the direction of his room—his old room—as Tyler got up from the couch to see him off. “Try not to have too many wild parties now that I’m gone.”

  “Are you kidding?” Tyler grimaced and looked around, eyes flicking over the newly-emptied living room. “The place isn’t gonna be the same without you, man.”

  “And I’m not gonna be the same without this place. It’s a hell of a lot different than where I’m going, that’s for sure.”

  “No shit,” Tyler nodded, stepping outside with Jack. “You’re not planning on staying in Bridgewater, are you?”

  “No,” Jack shook his head. “Hell no. Bridgewater is—was—my dad’s town. I don’t think I could ever stay there without feeling like he was constantly looking over my shoulder.”

  Tyler winced. “That’s gotta be rough.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking as uncomfortable as Jack was feeling with the direction the conversation had taken. That didn’t stop him from asking more questions, though. “You don’t think it might be a little easier there, or… something? Now that he’s gone, I mean?”

  “I don’t think so,” Jack said, shaking his head with a grimace. “The few hours I spent in town for his funeral were hard enough. If I didn’t still have to figure out everything with his personal stuff and his shop, I wouldn’t even go back at all.”

  “Damn, Jack, were things that bad between the two of you?”

  Jack squinted against the sun as he looked out over the parking lot he’d just crossed, wishing he had a more urgent excuse to leave. One that would let him shut down their impromptu walk down memory lane without sounding like a complete dick.

  Not that Jack was necessarily opposed to that approach, if necessary. But he was leaving, and it was better to leave on a good note than to pick a fight with one of the few friends he’d felt close enough to open up to during his time at Quantico.

  Jack had always been sort of a loner, but he’d found a kindred spirit in Tyler and it was a friendship he’d genuinely miss. Not many people clicked with Jack right away, but he and Tyler had hit it off from the very beginning. Multiple deployments together had only cemented that bond.

  He was realistic enough to know that neither of them would probably do a good job of staying in touch, but regardless, there was no doubt in Jack’s mind that he’d made a friend for life.

  “It’s not even that things were that bad,” he said, since Tyler was staring him down like he actually wanted an answer. “It’s not like my old man was so mean, or even that we fought all that often. But after Mom died, he just wasn’t… there. I was an eight-year-old kid and my dad should’ve been showing me how to be a man, but all he showed me was what not to do. I just…” Jack shook his head. “The place just doesn’t have great memories for me, you know?”

  “Yeah, I hear you.” Tyler took his hands out of his pockets and shoved one back over his buzzed head.

  Jack had known his friend long enough to recognize the tell for what it was. Tyler wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words.

  “So,” Tyler finally continued, “No chance you’ll be taking over the family business, then.”

  It was more of a statement than a question, but it was at least a less-personal question—one that didn’t make Jack feel so defensive.

  Jack shook his head again, confirming what his friend had just said. “God, no. Can you really see me running a flower shop? With a name like Beverly’s Blooms? Seriously?”

  Tyler burst out laughing and clapped Jack on the back as they started—finally—walking toward Jack’s truck. “Oh, man. I had no idea that was the name… I’m guessing Beverly was your mom?”

  Jack nodded. “Dad opened the place in her memory once I enlisted and he was on his own. She loved flowers— always had them all around the house, inside and out. To this day, I can’t smell fresh cut flowers without thinking of her.”

  “Wow, I’m sorry, man. I never realized it was like that.” Tyler’s eyebrows shot up at the candidly sensitive admission. “But, you know, it would definitely be a change of pace from working on base…”

  Jack snorted. “No. Nope. Not gonna happen. That was his thing. Opening that shop in my mom’s memory was probably the nicest thing he ever did in his whole life, but that’s just not me. It was his way to remember her, and I respect that, but I’ll remember her my own way.”

  He leaned against the truck and crossed his arms over his chest, looking out over the busy street beyond their apartment complex. The street that he’d traveled multiple times per day to and from Quantico Marine Base. The street he wouldn’t have a reason to travel ever again, after today.

  It was a weird feeling, and combined with the memories Tyler’s insistent questions had stirred up, it had Jack’s stomach feeling tight, as if he might actually throw up at any moment.

  “So… what are you going to do, buddy?” Tyler asked after a moment. “After you leave Bridgewater, I mean.”

  “First, I’m gonna sell everything as quickly as possible. After that—” Jack shrugged, “—I don’t know. But I’ll be getting the hell out of there, that’s for sure. Maybe get a place up in the mountains. Just a little shit-hole of a cabin out in the middle of nowhere, where I don’t have to deal with anyone.”

  If he were being honest, Jack didn’t know what, exactly, he was going to do with himself after selling his dad’s flower shop. Becoming a mountain man sounded about as good as anything else, though. He didn’t have any ties to anyone now. Nobody to answer to, no expectations to live up to.

  Nobody who cared where he went or what he did.

  Tyler smirked. “I can see you doing that. But what about money, Jack? Not many jobs out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I’ll find something,” Jack said, hoping he sounded
more confident than he felt. All he knew was being a Marine. “Dad had a little money put aside, and I’ve got some savings from all the fucking time I spent in the desert. It’s not much, but you don’t need much if you’re living in the mountains. It’s at least enough to get me through until I decide for sure what I wanna do.”

  “You know I’ve gotta say it, man.” Tyler cocked his head to the side, and Jack knew what was coming before the words left Tyler’s mouth. “Coming back to the Corps is always an option…”

  Jack shook his head. It was a discussion they’d had at least a dozen times before, and he had to give Tyler credit for trying one last time. But no. That ship had sailed. Jack was pretty sure that when he finally pulled out of that parking lot, he wouldn’t ever be back.

  “Gunny said the same thing when I was signing my discharge paperwork. I just can’t imagine ever being happy with a desk job while you and the rest of the guys are out where the action is.” Jack shook his head. “No, if they wanna sideline me because of some bullshit ankle injury that’s only barely an issue, that’s their loss. I just… I need a fresh start somewhere else. I’m not gonna beg to be a desk jockey for the rest of my life.”

  Even as he said the words, though, Jack wondered if he was making a big mistake by turning down a guaranteed income with job security and a pension—all the things he knew he was supposed to want. But those things had never mattered much to him. He’d joined the Marine Corps for two reasons—to get the hell away from Bridgewater and to make a difference in the world.

  He’d been so idealistic as a teen, back when he’d enlisted. After so many years feeling powerless over the events that had rocked his youth—first his mom’s death and then the deteriorating relationship with his father—he’d thought he’d at least be able to bring stability to other people as a Marine, people whose lives had been turned upside down from war and pain and loss. The Corps had seemed like a perfect fit for him back then.

  Now, though, he didn’t have to run anymore. There was nothing left in Bridgewater to get away from. And as far as making a difference? He’d been there, done that, and it hadn’t seemed to help. The world seemed more fucked up than ever. One less grunt on the front lines wouldn’t mean much in the scheme of things.

  “Well, man,” Tyler opened his arms and pulled Jack into a half-hug, half-handshake. “As much as I hate to see you go, I hope you find something that makes you happy. Whatever that ends up being.”

  “Thanks,” Jack said, his throat suspiciously tight. “Take care of yourself out there, okay?”

  Tyler nodded, and without another word, Jack got into his pickup and started the engine. With a small smile and an even smaller wave, he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving his friend, his apartment, and what had been his entire life behind, dwindling away in the rearview mirror.

  He thought about Tyler’s words as he drove away. Ever since a few months after he’d graduated high school, being a Marine had been the thing that had made Jack happy. Now it felt like all the doors that being in the Corps had once opened for him had been slammed shut in his face. Permanently. If there was anything else in life that might be a perfect fit for him, he had no idea what it might be.

  He didn’t even know where he should start looking.

  One thing was for certain, though. Despite where he was headed, whatever the next big thing in Jack’s life would be, he wasn’t going to find it back in Bridgewater.

  Chapter 3

  Ethan

  Another week had started, and while Ethan used to be one of those rare people who actually looked forward to Mondays, they just weren’t the same without Gary around. Not just because he had to work all of them now that they were short-handed, when he’d had every other Monday off before, but because now?

  Monday started out with breakfast for one.

  He and Gary had had a routine, and Ethan missed it. He couldn’t remember which one of them had started it, and they’d never called it a routine, but over the years, they’d both kept it up like clockwork. Whoever got to the shop first would swing into Magic Beans and grab coffee and bagels for two.

  With Gary gone, though, Ethan’s order had shrunk by half.

  One coffee… one bagel… he’d had six weeks to get used to it, but he wasn’t used to it. Every damn Monday when he walked across the parking lot between the two businesses, he felt like he was missing something.

  And something was missing.

  Gary.

  Ethan still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that his friend and boss was really gone forever. He didn’t know when he’d come to terms with that, and a part of him was scared of the day he did. Getting used to Gary being gone felt like it would mean Ethan was okay with it, or that he’d gotten over the loss.

  The truth was, though, that he was still far from getting over it—even though he knew that, realistically, life had to go on.

  Realistically, he shouldn’t feel guilty for only ordering breakfast for one.

  Realistically, Ethan knew all of those things… but if there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was that his heart was far from realistic. Dealing with the loss of his mentor and friend was turning out to be no exception.

  Gary wouldn’t have wanted him to mope, of course—and in fact would probably have had some not-so-sensitive things to say on the subject—but even though it went against everything in Ethan’s nature to let himself feel down for more than a few minutes at a time, this was different. Losing Gary was bigger than anything Ethan had ever dealt with before, and was by far the hardest thing he’d ever had to accept.

  But he did have to accept it. Or at least, he would have to… sometime.

  Sometime soon.

  It was only after he’d been sitting in the office, sipping his still-too-hot latte for nearly five minutes that he realized the computer screen in front of him was still blank. He was almost certain he’d turned it on as soon as he’d walked in.

  Okay, great. It’s gonna be one of those mornings. Thanks, universe.

  “Come on, stupid machine,” he muttered under his breath when the little green cursor suddenly appeared again with no warning. That would be a good thing if he actually knew how he’d managed to get it back.

  Especially when it immediately disappeared again.

  Ethan stifled a sigh as he turned the ancient machine off and back on again, trying to remember what the IT guy had said the last time Ethan had called about this exact problem. Had it been the… router? The… adapter? The motherboard? Nope.

  He couldn’t remember what the IT guy had said to do… but then again, Ethan’s technical knowledge didn’t extend much further than flipping the switch and unplugging it.

  He wasn’t even sure what a motherboard was.

  If he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure if that was an actual thing.

  Ethan frowned as he realized that another call for technical support would almost certainly be in his near future. That wasn’t how he’d hoped to spend his morning. He’d just wanted to be with his flowers, to keep his hands busy and his mind clear.

  Now, though, his morning needed as much of a reset as the computer did.

  But at least it was still early in the day. There would hopefully still be time to fit in both tech support and a little flower therapy.

  The bell above the front door jingled and Ethan poked his head out of the office, grateful for something else to focus on. He grinned when he saw Mr. Robbins, another of Gary’s long-time and loyal customers, shuffle in. After dealing with the beeping-and-blinking-and-still-not-computing computer, even the old man’s shopping style—with his noncommittal shrugs and one-word answers always a test of Ethan’s skills as a clairvoyant—would almost be a welcome distraction.

  At least Ethan would be in his element when dealing with Mr. Robbins. Computers might be a foreign language, but flowers?

  Yeah, he would gladly talk about those all day.

  “Good morning, Mr. Robbins,” Ethan called out, putting on h
is best smile and already feeling a little bit of relief as he walked out of the office and around the front counter to greet the first customer of the day. “How are you doing?”

  The older man took his time studying—and touching, and smelling—three separate arrangements without acknowledging the fact that Ethan had asked him a question.

  If Ethan hadn’t already been quite familiar with Mr. Robbins’ little quirks, he would’ve thought the man was either hard of hearing or unnecessarily rude.

  Well, he was both of those things, if Ethan was being honest, but he’d learned years ago not to take any of it personally. It was just who Mr. Robbins was. And at least the man was self-aware enough to buy flowers for his wife on a regular basis, so that redeemed him a little in Ethan’s eyes.

  “Hm?” Mr. Robbins finally made eye contact, although he couldn’t have seemed more disinterested in Ethan’s question if he’d tried. “Oh, as well as can be expected, I guess.”

  Ethan felt the corners of his mouth twitch at the reply. It was the same response he always got from the man. The day Mr. Robbins came in and wasn’t doing “as well as could be expected” would be the day Ethan would start to worry about the old codger.

  “That’s good,” Ethan answered, managing to keep a straight face. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you in here. Did Mrs. Robbins enjoy those Peruvian lilies you got her last time?”

  Mr. Robbins shrugged. “She seemed happy enough with them. A bit too exotic for my taste, though.”

  Ethan turned away for a moment and cleared his throat to cover up the tiny laugh that had been trying to break free. He’d just received what he’d classify as glowing praise from the old man, but—in true Edmond Robbins fashion—he hadn’t been able to let a hint of a compliment go unchecked.

  Still, if his wife had liked the flowers, that was all that mattered… and Ethan knew that if she hadn’t liked them, he would’ve heard about it long before now.