Page 88 of Wrecked on the Mountain
It's time to convince my girlfriend she deserves to be spoiled.
By the time I tell her about our night together, the bell above the door chimes as we step into Petals & Stems. I'm immediately hit with the familiar cocktail of roses, eucalyptus, and the vanilla candles Mom burns behind the counter.
It's the smell of home.
Of childhood scraped knees getting bandaged while Mom worked on arrangements. Of hiding behind the flower coolers when girls from school came in with their mothers.
"Brooke!" Mom appears from behind a massive display of winter branches, her face lighting up with a huge smile. "What a lovely surprise!"
She wraps Brooke in one of those maternal hugs that adopts you on the spot, and I watch my girlfriend melt into it.
"Yeah… Hi to you too, Mom," I grunt, watching my mother practically abandon me.
"Oh, Jamie, you're here too."
Mom doesn't even glance in my direction. She waves a dismissive hand at me before turning back to Brooke with renewed enthusiasm.
"Are you getting enough to eat? Jamie's not being too much of a grump, is he?"
"Hey!" I protest. "I'm standing right here."
Mom ignores me as Dad emerges from the back room carrying a box of ceramic vases, his reading glasses perched on his nose.
"Jamie! How are you, son?"
"Oh,hey Dad! At least someone is happy to see me!" I eyeball my mom and throw up my hands.
Mom finally turns her attention to me, rolling her eyes. "Oh, Jamie. You know you're always welcome, but you don't need coddling like Brookey here does."
Brooke chuckles quietly, glancing between us with a hint of amusement.
I scowl and silently mouthBrookeyat her, only for her to shoot me a sharp look in return.
Dad sets down the box of vases and walks over to clap a hand on my shoulder. "It's always good to see you, son. Heard you two had quite the rescue yesterday. That helicopter business sounds dangerous."
"All in a day's work," I say, watching Brooke run her fingers along the petals of some white roses, completely absorbed in their texture.
"Well by the sounds of what Charlie was telling me last night at the Tavern, you did yourself proud. And Dr. Shields," Dad continues, "you settling in alright? Not missing the big city too much?"
"Please, call me Brooke," she says, turning from the flowers. "And honestly? I can't remember the last time I felt this happy."
Something warm and fierce expands in my chest.
The woman who saved lives in Chicago's biggest trauma center is standing in my mother's flower shop, touching roses like they're precious, and telling my parents she's never been happier.
Damn right she's happy. Happy with me.
"Actually, I'm glad you've dropped by Jamie, honey," Mom says in that tone that means she's about to meddle.
"Really? Could have fooled me, Mom."
She ignores me. "I was hoping you could help me reach something in the back room? You know how these old bones aren't what they used to be."
I give her a blank glare. My mother is fifty-eight and could probably outclimb half my rescue team, but I follow her anyway.
Behind the curtain that separates the shop from storage, she stops and turns to face me with an expression I haven't seen since I was sixteen and she caught me sneaking out to meet an old high school girlfriend.
"What do you need, Mom?"
