Page 202 of Ranger's Wildflower
I study him for a second.
Then hand him a small cluster.
“Here. Hold them steady.”
He takes them—awkward, like he’s holding something fragile he doesn’t trust himself with.
It makes me smile.
“Not so tight,” I say, adjusting his grip. My fingers brush his.
Warm.
Steady.
He stills slightly at the contact.
So do I.
Then I focus.
“Angle your hand like this,” I guide, moving his wrist just a little. “You want to keep the stems clean.”
“Didn’t think flower picking had rules,” he mutters.
“Everything has rules.”
He glances at me.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A beat passes.
Then, softer—
“Some are just harder to learn than others.”
His gaze lingers on mine.
Longer this time.
Like he knows I’m not just talking about flowers.
Ace
She looks different out here.
Lighter.
Still carrying everything—but not buried under it.
Like this…
This matters to her.
The flowers.
