Page 1 of Diesel
Chapter One
The soft jingle ofSophie’s keys was the only sound as she hurried down Main Street, her boots clacking against the wet pavement.The sky above was a dark curtain, the stars hidden behind clouds.
The streetlamps illuminated empty storefronts and closed cafés.A fine mist hung in the air, clinging to her coat and hair.She pulled her hood tighter around her face.
Stupid.She was so stupid.
She’d made it all the way home, kicked off her shoes, poured a cup of tea, only to realize her wallet wasn’t in her bag.Her heart had plummeted when she remembered setting it down behind the register at the flower shop earlier that afternoon.She’d been so distracted crafting a bouquet for the Harper twins’ piano recital that she hadn’t noticed her bag tipping on its side.
Now it was after ten, the town was asleep, and she was walking alone back to Petal & Stem.The flower shop sat on the corner of Main and Juniper, nestled between the old bookstore and a candle shop that always smelled like cinnamon and sage.
A string of fairy lights glowed faintly in the front window, casting soft shadows on the brick façade.Sophie’s heart eased a little when she saw them still twinkling.At least she hadn’t forgotten to turn those off too.
She slid the key into the lock and let herself in, the familiar scent of roses, eucalyptus, and damp soil wrapping around her like a blanket.
The shop was her favorite place in the world.It had once been the hardware store run by Tom Barrett, her landlord, mentor, and the closest thing she had to family.He’d taken a chance on her two years ago when the factory laid her off, offering her the keys and saying, “You’ve always had a touch with pretty things, Soph.Make this place yours.”She’d cried right there in front of him.Cried harder when he handed her a worn apron and a notebook of old invoices and said, “Just don’t blow all the profits on lavender candles.”
The shop had become her sanctuary.A quiet place full of color and life, where she could lose herself in arranging blooms and humming along to the radio.The world made sense here.
She walked through the front room slowly now, brushing her fingers along the counter as she passed, eyes scanning for her wallet.The shadows stretched long and strange in the corners, where she hadn’t left the lamp on.She clicked on the light behind the register and exhaled in relief when she spotted the pale pink wallet half-tucked beneath a receipt book.
“Gotcha,” she murmured, reaching for it.
A sudden thud echoed from outside.A low, metallic sound, like something striking the back door.
Sophie froze.The hairs on her neck rose as another sound followed.A muffled voice.Then a laugh, sharp and mean, cut through the night.Glass tinkled.A bottle?A window?Her heart jumped into her throat.She ducked behind the counter, holding her breath.
The laughter came again, clearer this time, and closer.Sophie inched toward the corner of the counter and peeked up just enough to see out the front window.
Three shadows moved past the far streetlamp, hunched figures in dark hoodies.One of them stopped at the edge of her flower boxes and kicked them hard.Petunias and pansies flew, soil scattering across the sidewalk like dark confetti.
“No, no,” Sophie whispered, pressing her hand over her mouth.
A crack sounded at the back of the shop.This time, something heavy hit the service door.She always meant to replace that old wooden door but hadn’t gotten around to yet.She crouched lower, pulse pounding in her ears.
Think.Breathe.She reached slowly for her phone, fingers trembling.No service.Of course.The shop was always a dead zone unless she stood by the front window.The only landline was in the back office, past the cooler.
She swallowed hard.If she made a noise, they might hear her.If they got in—
Don’t think about that.
Instead, she thought about Tom.The way he’d handed her the keys like it was no big deal.How he’d given her a job at the hardware store when she was sixteen and desperate for work.
She’d come to town straight from the city’s foster system, dropped off by a caseworker who clearly didn’t know what to do with a quiet, bookish girl who flinched at raised voices and hated loud noises.
She had no family, no diploma, no connections.But Tom had taken one look at her and said, “You ever hold a hammer?”
She hadn’t.But he taught her.And when the time came to retire, he gave her this shop and told her to make it bloom.
And now someone was trying to tear it apart.
Another bang.The sound of the back door creaking under pressure.Sophie bit down on a gasp.She couldn’t stay here.If they got through the door, they’d be inside.They’d see her.
She scanned the room.The cooler.If she could slip into the back, she could maybe make it to the office.The landline was old, but it still worked.
She rose slowly, knees aching from crouching, and tiptoed toward the back.Her hand hovered over the cooler door handle.
Then a pane of glass shattered.
