Page 1 of That Touch

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DAHLIA

“You sure you don’t want me to lock up, Dolly? It’s no big deal. I don’t have any plans.” Juniper Riley smiles sweetly at me, her hand on the door as she’s about to leave for the night.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks though, Juny. You’re on the tail end of your summer break, so go have some fun and enjoy the freedom before you head back to school in a few weeks.”

“Thanks. Good night!” She gives me a lingering glance—one that doesn’t need words—and I already know what she’s about to say. “I hope you’re okay.”

“I’m good, sweetheart, thank you. Good night.” I give her a smile then avert my gaze so she knows I’m done with the conversation. The bell above my boutique door jingles as she closes it behind her. I walk over, flipping the OPEN sign to CLOSED and locking the door. I watch her walk to her vintage cherry-red Beetle, waiting until I see her drive away before turning my attention back to counting the till and finishing up the closing routine.

It’s hard to believe it’s been five years already since I opened Dolly’s Boutique, my quaint little fashion store here in Virginia Dale, Colorado. It started out as a dream back then, with a booth at the farmers’ market on the weekends, and now I have three full-time employees and Juniper during the summer months.

I’d always wanted to own my own store in town, but this wasn’t how I thought it would be. I thought I’d run it with my husband, and that our little kids would play in the back or run through the store to greet guests. But seven years ago today, that dream was shattered when my husband and high school sweetheart, Dean, lost his life in a car accident.

We got married young, and we fell in love even younger. We had just celebrated our first anniversary three months prior when I found out I was pregnant. I was ecstatic, on cloud nine. Even though things between us weren’t perfect and had started to grow a bit rough, I was hopeful our baby would bring us together—that all of our problems would disappear the moment we held her for the first time. I was young and naive, but we never got the chance to hold her. I don’t even know itwasa baby girl, though I’ve convinced myself over the years that she was. I miscarried before we could confirm.

The grief was crippling for us both, and neither of us knew how to cope. Instead of leaning on each other, we both turned to other things. I turned to myself, putting up a wall and shutting off my emotions. Dean turned to alcohol.

So it’s been seven years of everyone in town reminding me—on this day especially—of not only how tragic it was, but that they don’t know how I kept going after losing my husband and baby within three months of each other. Sometimes it feels like I’ll never be allowed to move on—like I’m doomed to live in this haze of perpetual grief that loops around every year.

I sigh, closing my eyes for a brief second. On the inside, Ihavemoved on. I’ll never forget Dean and what he meant to me, but I’m ready to be happy again—to find love and have a family. The problem is, the only other man I’ve seriously had feelings for doesn’t know it: Ranger Slade, Dean’s best friend.

I actually met him before I met Dean. It was at a house party, and I’d been drinking to try to fit in as the new girl in town, and was belting out karaoke when he walked up to me and told me I had the voice of an angel. I remember giggling furiously, mostly from the tequila, but also because I was instantly smitten. He was only 17 years old, but already 6’3”, built like a farmhand, and had a mop of dirty blond hair that poked out from beneath his cowboy hat.

I remember following him around the party the rest of the night, attempting to be flirty and get him to notice me. We talked on and off, and I thought for sure he was into me, but he never asked me out that night. When I saw him at school in the hallway, he smiled, stopped like he was going to say something, then quickly ducked his head and walked away again. A moment later, I met Dean. I liked Dean. He was funny and outgoing and asked me out within 10 minutes of meeting me. He even called me “my girl” after our first date, and the rest was history. I grew to love Dean, and although it wasn’t instant, it grew strong and genuine pretty quickly.

The three of us became inseparable. They were two peas in a pod and I was the sidekick, always along for the ride. I was the one filming their dirt bike antics, being the lookout when we stole beer from Ranger’s family brewery, and the one trying to get us out of trouble when we got caught.

I finish up with the closing procedures, grabbing my bag and the flowers I bought for Dean’s grave during my lunch break. I lock up, walking over to my Jeep and driving the 10 minutes to the cemetery.

I clear away the grass clippings from his gravestone, smiling at the picture of him that adorns his name. I chose that photo for the headstone because it was my favorite one of him. His huge smile was infectious, and it caused his cheeks to ball up, scrunching his eyes almost halfway closed.

“I miss you, Dean,” I say quietly as I place the flowers in the built-in vase. “Life was already hard for you; you didn’t deserve to die so young.” A tear wells up in my eye and I wipe at it frantically. “I know you’re with our daughter, and I know you’re both looking down on me. I feel it every day.”

“Mind if I join you?”

I whip my head around to see Ranger standing behind me, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, his signature cowboy hat low on his brow.

“Not at all.” I smile, motioning for him to come forward as I stand back up.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, the low tenor of his voice rumbling through his chest. “How are you doing?”

I let out an audible sigh. “I’m okay, and you didn’t interrupt. How are you doing?” I nudge him with my shoulder, looking up at him.

“I’m all right. Hard to believe it’s been seven years already.”

“Yeah, but at the same time, sometimes it feels like it was a lifetime ago. You ever feel that way?”

He nods. “I do. It’s weird, like we were completely different people back then.”

“Well, we were . . . we were basically just kids.”

“True.”

“What do you think he’d say if he saw us standing here right now?”

That makes him chuckle. “With that carefree attitude he always had, he’d probably tell us to fuck off. Then he’d tell us to go get a life.”

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