Page 14 of Ranger's Wildflower
The room tilted beneath me.
Because she didn’t believe me.
The one person who should have known me best—
didn’t believe a word I said.
“Mom—”
But she turned away.
Just walked out of the kitchen while I stood there shaking apart piece by piece.
The memory shattered suddenly.
I sucked in a sharp breath as the cooler came back into focus around me.
Cold air burned my lungs.
My hands trembled against the metal counter.
I pressed one hand hard against the center of my chest like I could physically hold myself together.
“That was years ago,” I whispered.
But my body didn’t seem to know the difference.
It still felt fresh.
Still felt like standing in that kitchen begging someone to believe me.
I forced myself upright after a minute and pushed back out into the shop.
Sunlight spilled across the floor.
The flowers smelled sweet and bright and alive.
And sitting in the middle of the counter—
waiting for me—
was the muffin.
I stared at it for a long moment before finally walking over and picking it up.
The paper crinkled softly beneath my fingers.
One bite.
That was all I meant to take.
Blueberries and sugar melted warm against my tongue, familiar enough to ache.
Comforting.
Safe.
My eyes closed briefly before I could stop them.
