Page 141 of The Games We Play
And me?
I was just thankful she was still here. Still breathing. Still able to squeeze my hand and call me sweetie. Still able to look me in the eye with that quiet strength I’d always leaned on.
42
PENNY
“Will you please quit it?” Sandy said with a half-laugh, half-groan as she pushed herself up from the couch. Her face twisted into a grimace, betraying just how much pain she was still in.
“This is exactly why I’m here,” I said, rushing to her side before she could take another step on her own. “I’m here to help you. To make sure you get back on your feetsafely.Do you not remember your fall literally two days ago?”
Typical Sandy. Always trying to tough it out, make it harder than it needed to be, just to prove she could. It had been forty-eight hours since she hit the floor of the flower shop, and here she was, limping around her house like it had never happened—or like she could will it out of existence. The stiffness in her steps and the small winces she tried to hide told a different story.
According to the doctors, she had a concussion and a badly bruised hip. Their best guess? She’d passed out from dehydration, collapsing hard and catching the edge of the prep table on her way down. No wonder her memory of it was a complete blank.
My mind kept spinning in circles, whispering what-ifs. What if she’d hit her head harder? What if no one had found her in time? What if I’d lost her?
The thoughts were sharp enough to draw tears. I sniffed, blinked them back, and kept moving—no use crumbling now.
I’d taken the last two days off from the library to be here. I couldn’t stomach the idea of her being alone, not after everything. So here I was, camping out in Sandy’s house, which was the picture-perfect image of southern grandma charm. Gingham patterns, antique wood furniture with its own stories, and a powdery floral perfume that clung to the wallpaper like a memory.
I slipped an arm under hers and guided her gently toward the dining table, our steps slow and measured. She let out a long sigh as she sank into the chair, leaning back like the weight of the past few days had finally settled in her bones.
“I remember perfectly fine, Penelope,” she said with a stubborn little huff. “You have work to do. A job that needs you. Old me can manage just fine.”
I rolled my eyes as I turned toward the kitchen. “Just bear with me, okay? You scared the crap out of me. And being here, taking care of you, is the only thing that’s helping my brain calm down. I need to see you safe, not in a hospital bed, or…” I swallowed hard. “Worse.”
I returned with her plate of breakfast and a mug of coffee, placing them gently in front of her before grabbing my own and sitting across the table. I gave her a soft, sad smile. She met it with a knowing smirk as she scooped up a forkful of eggs.
“Well,” she said, chewing, “I guess itiskind of nice to have someone catering to me for a change.”
“That’s the spirit.” I let out a small laugh and stared into my coffee, tracing the rim of the mug with my fingertip. The idea I’dbeen mulling over for the past twenty-four hours danced at the edge of my tongue.
“Sandy,” I began carefully, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Petal Pusher. About its future. I want to run something by you.”
She paused mid-bite, her fork lowering slowly to her plate. “Go on,” she said, her voice a touch more serious now. “It’s not like I can go anywhere.”
I took a deep breath. “I can’t imagine this town without that shop. And I know you’ve said it’s too much now, too hard to manage on your own. But I might have a solution.”
She tilted her head, interest flickering behind her tired eyes. “I’m listening.”
“Ellie Cassidy,” I said. “She loves flowers. She knows how to run a business. She’s the one who got the farm stand up and running out at the ranch. And I know she’s looking to move on, to start something new. What if that something… was Petal Pusher?”
Sandy paused for a long moment, her eyes distant as she considered my words. Finally, she nodded—slow and thoughtful, but certain.
“Have you spoken to her about it yet?”
I shook my head, fingers tightening around my coffee cup.
“Not yet. I didn’t know where your head was at, and I didn’t want to make offers I couldn’t follow through on.” I glanced up, searching her face. “I wanted to run it by you first.”
Sandy picked up her fork again and took a bite of her breakfast, chewing with care. “I think that sounds lovely,” she said finally. “If she’s interested, I’d be more than happy to talk to her, work out some kind of arrangement.”
Relief curled through my chest like warmth from a fire. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her to come see you.”
Sandy laughed softly, shaking her head. “Oh boy. I haven’t had anyone on payroll—well, ever. It was always just me andHank.” Her voice softened as she said his name, a smile lifting her face, her eyes shimmering with memory. It was as if she were replaying a treasured home movie in her mind, golden and precious.
“What was he like?” I asked gently.
