Page 31 of The Beginning

Without a word, Thatcher came around the side of the desk and perched on the edge, removing my hands from my face and holding them tightly in his.

“What’s wrong, Hattie?”

I sucked in a shaky breath, then let it out in short bursts through my nose. “We had to lay off Debbie.”

His head dropped down, staring at our clasped hands. “I’m sorry. It’s that bad?”

“Apparently. I told my parents they need to bring me into the loop with the books more. We’re going to meet about it after closing tonight. I thought things were getting better, not worse.”

“I don’t know anything about running a business, but I definitely thought the same thing.”

I did know, and yet, I had thought the same thing.

The silence hung in the air around us as he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of my hands. Then he squeezed them, pulling me up from my chair until I stood nestled between his legs. “It’s going to be okay, Hattie.”

“How?” I asked, my voice hoarse. “How are you so sure it’s going to be okay? Right now, my parents and I are the only ones working here besides you, and you’re leaving. I don’t see how we’ll be able to keep this up when you go. I’m already struggling, but pretending not to because my parents are so worried all the time.”

Thatcher reached up and smoothed my hair behind my ear. His knuckles brushed my cheek, sending goosebumps down my neck and arms. “I’m sure it’ll be okay because I love you, and at the end of the day, even if your family loses this shop, we’ll still have each other.”

The tears that I’d been trying to hold back fell freely onto my cheeks, landing around us as I shook my head.

His words—his confession of love that had simultaneously meant the world to me and also hadn’t even registered because of the weight of the rest of his statement—barely registered.

“That’s not even true,” I whispered. “You’re leaving.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Don’t, what?”

“Don’t leave.”

I snorted. “Oh, yeah, and what will you do, tell them you don’t want to go? Orders are called orders for a reason, right?”

“I’ll get out. They’ve approved my reenlistment package, but I haven’t actually signed the contract yet.”

“No. You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can.”

I stepped back, putting my hands up. “Thatcher, be serious. As Stella reminded me yesterday, we’ve only known each other for six months. You can’t walk away from your career because of me.”

“Yes, I can,” he repeated, his tone level and sure.

“But why would you do that? Why would you give up your chance at a stable career that you’ve always wanted just to stay here for some girl and work in her flower shop? That’s ridiculous.”

A faint smile touched his lips, and he folded his arms over his chest. “First of all, you’re not just some girl. I told you. I love you. And second, I never said anything about working in your flower shop. But I’ll still help out—for free—like I’ve been doing. Whatever you need.”

I frowned. “Where would you work, then?”

“At the fire station.”

“Whatfire station?”

“The one here in Bluffton. I delivered flowers to the captain over there a couple of months ago, and he made a good case for why I should get out and apply in the civilian sector.”

“But, you didn’t want to be a firefighter. You wanted to be a Marine.”

He shrugged. “Well, I got to be a Marine, and I learned how to fight fires. Then, I fell in love withsome girl,and I don’t want to leave her.”

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