CHAPTER 1
Abigail
I’m late.
Again.
The realization hits me halfway across Main Street, my boots slapping against the pavement as I weave through the small clusters of people enjoying the late afternoon sun. Silver Ridge isn’t exactly the kind of place where people rush—but right now, I am definitely the exception.
My bag keeps slipping off my shoulder, my breath comes out uneven, and I’m mentally cursing the group discussion that somehow stretched from thirty minutes to almost two hours.
“Five more minutes,” my professor had said.
That was a lie.
I finally reach the shop, pushing the glass door open with more force than necessary. The little bell above it jingles loudly, announcing my chaotic entrance.
“I’m so sorry, Mom—”
I stop just inside, slightly bent over, hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath.
My mom looks up from behind the counter, completely unbothered.
“Abigail,” she says calmly, like I didn’t just run in here like my life depended on it. “Breathe first. Apologize later.”
I straighten up, brushing loose strands of hair from my face. “I’m serious, I didn’t mean to be this late. The group discussion just—”
“—took longer than expected,” she finishes for me, smiling knowingly.
I blink. “How did you—”
“Because you’ve said that exact sentence at least ten times this semester.”
I let out a small laugh, walking over to the counter. “Okay, fair.”
She reaches out and gently smooths down my hair, the way she’s done since I was a kid. “You look exhausted.”
“I feel exhausted,” I admit.
She studies me for a moment, her expression softening. “You know, I could’ve asked Mrs. Henley to watch the shop. You didn’t have to rush over here like this.”
“I wanted to,” I say quickly, leaning against the counter. “It’s fine, really. I like being here.”
And I do.
There’s something comforting about this place—the familiar scent of flowers, the soft hum of conversation, the way the sunlight filters through the front windows in the late afternoon. It’s predictable. Safe.
It’s home.
My mom tilts her head slightly, like she’s trying to read between the lines. “You’re sure it’s not too much? School, studying, helping me here…”
“I can handle it,” I reassure her. Then, softer, “I want to help.”
Her eyes warm at that, and for a second, neither of us says anything. She just reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“I’m proud of you, you know that?” she says quietly.
My chest tightens a little. “Mom…”
“I mean it, Abby. You’ve worked so hard for everything you have. That scholarship didn’t just fall into your lap.”
I smile, a little shy under her gaze. “I know. But I had help.”
“You had determination,” she corrects gently. “That’s all you.”
I don’t argue, but I don’t fully agree either. Still, I lean over the counter and hug her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
“I love you,” I mumble into her hair.
She laughs softly, hugging me back. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
After a moment, she pulls away and claps her hands lightly. “Alright, I should get going. Dinner won’t make itself.”
“Tragic,” I say dryly.
She points a finger at me. “Don’t get smart. Lock up at six, and don’t forget to eat something.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grabs her bag, gives me one last smile, and heads out the door. The bell jingles again, softer this time.
And just like that, it’s just me.
*****
I settle behind the counter, pulling out my book and notebook. The words blur for a second before I force myself to focus.
Two weeks.
That’s how long I have until my next test. Two weeks to make sure I don’t mess up the one thing that could change everything. I flip a page, underlining a sentence, but my mind drifts anyway.
The scholarship. I worked hard to get this scholarship.
Sometimes it still feels unreal—that I made it this far, that I got out, even if just a little. Silver Ridge isn’t a bad place. It’s quiet. It’s warm. It’s familiar in all the ways that matter.
But sometimes…
Sometimes I wonder what else is out there.
What it would be like to live somewhere bigger. Livelier. Somewhere that doesn’t feel like it already knows every version of you.
I want more. Not because what I have isn’t enough—but because I know I’m capable of more. Still… if this is all my life ever becomes, I think I’d be okay. That thought both comforts and scares me.
The bell above the door jingles again, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Abby!”
I don’t even have to look up.
Becca practically floats into the shop, her bracelets clinking softly as she moves, layers of crystals catching the light. Right behind her is Darryl, walking in like he owns the place—which, honestly, at this point, he kind of does.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Darryl says, leaning dramatically against a display shelf. “Miss ‘I Have Responsibilities.’”
I roll my eyes, already smiling. “I do have responsibilities.”
“Boring,” he replies instantly.
Becca leans over the counter, her eyes scanning my open book. “Studying again?”
“When am I not studying?” I counter.
She hums thoughtfully. “You need balance, Abby. The universe thrives on balance.”
Darryl snorts. “The universe also thrives on fun, which you clearly don’t believe in.”
“I do believe in fun,” I protest. “Just… after my tests.”
“After your tests,” he repeats slowly, like the words offend him. “You’ve been saying that your whole life.”
“That’s because there’s always a test.”
Becca giggles softly, while Darryl just shakes his head.
“There’s a party tonight,” he says, straightening up. “And before you even open your mouth—yes, you’re coming.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Abby—”
“I have to study.”
“You always have to study!”
“Because I care about my future,” I shoot back.
“And I care about your love life,” he says dramatically. “Which, by the way, is non-existent.”
I glare at him. “I do not need a love life right now.”
“You need something,” he mutters.
Becca gently nudges him. “Leave her alone.”
“I’m just saying,” he continues, ignoring her, “there could be cute guys there. Potential husbands. You never know.”
“I’m twenty-one, not desperate.”
“Debatable.”
“Darryl!”
He laughs, holding his hands up. “Okay, okay. I’ll drop it.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Thank you.”
“—for now,” he adds under his breath.
I groan.
Becca claps her hands softly, changing the subject. “Okay, more important things. My birthday.”
That gets my attention immediately. “Yes! What are we doing?”
Darryl perks up. “Something iconic, obviously.”
“For once, I agree,” I say.
Becca smiles, eyes lighting up. “I was thinking something small. Maybe a bonfire by the creek? Just us and a few close people.”
“That actually sounds perfect,” I say.
Darryl pretends to think. “Hmm… acceptable. But we’re still dressing up.”
“For a bonfire?” I laugh.
“Especially for a bonfire.”
The three of us fall into easy conversation after that, throwing around ideas, laughing, teasing each other like we always have.
It’s effortless. It always has been. Eventually, though, they have to leave.
“Don’t work too hard,” Becca says, hugging me.
“No promises,” I reply.
Darryl points at me as he walks backward toward the door. “I’m not done with you. We will get you out of this shop.”
“We’ll see about that.”
They disappear out the door, the bell chiming one last time.
And then it’s quiet again.
*****
The rest of the afternoon passes slowly.
Customers come in and out, and I help where I can—answering questions, ringing up purchases, restocking shelves. In between, I study.
Underline. Highlight. Repeat.
By the time the sun starts to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow through the windows, I finally close my book and lean back in my chair.
It’s been a long day. But a good one.
Simple. Familiar.
Safe.
I glance around the shop, a small smile tugging at my lips. For now… this is enough. Even if, deep down, I know it might not always be.
