The gentle chime above the flower shop door stirred Claire from her thoughts. Sunlight filtered through the glass panes, splashing warmth onto the polished counter, but her heart remained cold—frozen since the missed call two nights ago.
She hadn't returned it. Couldn't.
"Morning," Vanessa chirped as she stepped behind the counter, placing her leather tote on the stool. Her curls were wild, and she wore that bright yellow blouse Claire had always envied—like a walking sunflower.
Claire smiled faintly. "Hey."
Vanessa's gaze scanned her, pausing. "You look like you didn't sleep."
Claire shrugged, arranging a bouquet of lavender and blush-pink peonies. "Didn't."
"Talk to me." Vanessa leaned on the counter. "You've been off since Monday. This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain blast-from-the-past voicemail, would it?"
Claire froze, her fingers trembling over a stem. "I didn't tell you."
"You didn't have to. I know that look. The I-want-to-throw-my-phone-in-a-lake-but-also-guard-it-with-my-life look."
Claire exhaled slowly, placing the bouquet in a vase. "He called. I didn't answer. Haven't called back."
"Are you going to?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?" Vanessa lifted a brow. "This is Ethan we're talking about, Claire. The guy who ghosted you after promising forever."
"I know who he is," Claire whispered, anger flickering beneath the pain.
Vanessa softened. "Sorry. I just don't want you hurt again. I saw what it did to you the first time."
Claire nodded, tears pooling despite herself. "I thought I was past it. That the silence meant closure. But hearing his voice again... It cracked something open."
Vanessa reached for her hand across the counter. "Closure's overrated. What you need is clarity. Maybe hearing him out wouldn't be the worst thing."
Before Claire could respond, the door chimed again. She turned.
Dean Maddox stood in the doorway, tall and polished, holding two paper cups from Clover Café. "Ladies."
Vanessa shot Claire a smirk before drifting to the stockroom.
Claire's chest tightened as Dean approached, handing her one of the cups. "Vanilla oat latte, right?"
She accepted it with a grateful smile. "Thanks."
He leaned on the counter, his eyes searching hers. "I was hoping you'd come with me to the Spring Gala next weekend. It's a fundraiser for the art school. Flowers, fancy wine, local music. All your favorites."
Claire hesitated. "Dean..."
"No pressure." He raised both hands. "Just friends. But... I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope it becomes more."
Her throat tightened. She liked Dean—he was stable, kind, predictable in a comforting way. But her heart was a battlefield, and Ethan's name was written in blood across every wound.
"I'll think about it," she said quietly.
Dean smiled, genuine but tinged with something fragile. "I can work with that."
Ethan
Ethan sat on the cracked porch steps of the Brooks family farmhouse, the sun a cruel contrast to the storm inside him.
His phone buzzed again. No voicemail. No reply.
Claire still hadn't called back.
He'd left one message. One.
He didn't deserve more than that. But God, he wanted it.
Luke emerged from the house, tossing a cold bottle of water his way. "You look like hell."
"Feel like it too," Ethan muttered, twisting the cap.
"Madison called again. You're gonna have to deal with that sooner or later."
Ethan stared at the field stretching beyond the fence. "I thought she was done. We ended it."
"She doesn't think so. And she still holds the lease to the Phoenix project office."
A bitter laugh escaped Ethan's lips. "Of course she does."
"You gonna call Claire again?"
"I shouldn't."
"But?"
"I'm going to."
Luke dropped beside him on the steps. "Look, I know you think this is your redemption arc. But she's not a plot device. You broke her."
"I know."
Luke waited. "Do you even know why you left?"
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, rough and uneven from his own attempts at cutting it. "I wasn't enough. I thought... if I just worked harder, closed the Phoenix deal, got the promotion... I could finally be the man she deserved. Then everything crumbled. I lost the deal. Lost the job. Lost my damn mind."
Luke's voice was low. "So instead of being honest, you ghosted her."
"I didn't want her to see me like that."
"But now you want her to see you like this?"
Ethan stood, pacing. "I don't know what I want. I just know I need to say what I didn't say before."
"Then do it. But don't expect a parade."
Claire
That night, Claire sat by her bedroom window, the moonlight silvering her journal pages. Her phone rested beside her—silent. Mocking.
Her fingers hovered over the screen before she unlocked it.
Ethan's voicemail was still there.
She hit play.
"Claire... It's Ethan. I know I'm the last person you want to hear from. I don't expect forgiveness. I just need... I need you to know I'm back. And I finally understand what I lost. What I gave up. Please, call me back if you can. Or don't. I get it. Just... I'm sorry."
The silence after his voice ended was more deafening than the message.
Her chest heaved, and before she could stop herself, she texted Lena.
Claire: "He called. Ethan."
The typing bubble appeared instantly.
Lena: "You better not even think about replying."
Claire: "Too late."
Lena: "Claire. Don't do this. You barely survived last time."
Claire: "I need answers. I can't keep wondering."
Lena: "Then meet him. Get closure. But don't fall again."
Claire stared at her reflection in the windowpane. "Too late," she whispered.
Ethan
The next morning, Ethan pulled into the gravel lot of the old train station café, hands trembling.
He had texted Claire an hour earlier:
"Coffee? Neutral territory. Noon tomorrow?"
No reply.
The café doors opened behind him. He turned.
It wasn't Claire.
It was Madison.
Wearing black sunglasses, heels that clicked like gunfire, and a smirk that sent ice down his spine.
"Miss me?" she asked sweetly.
Ethan stood slowly. "What are you doing here?"
"Just checking in. Making sure you haven't forgotten who owns your mess."
He clenched his jaw. "I'm not playing your games anymore."
"Oh, Ethan. You're not done paying."
She handed him an envelope. "You either keep quiet... or Claire finds out what really happened in Phoenix."
His hands closed around the envelope. His breath hitched.
Madison turned with a satisfied smile. "Say hi to your little flower girl for me."
She disappeared into a sleek black car, tires crunching on gravel as she left.
Ethan sat down hard, clutching the envelope like it might explode.
And maybe, just maybe—it would.