Page 2 of Rough & Ruthless

She comes back carrying a ceramic pot, holding it like a prize as she presents it to me. I stare at the thick green and yellow striped leaves shooting straight up into the air.

"It's a snake plant," she explains, her voice dropping to a softer, almost reverent tone. "It filters the air. The leaves are so tall and strong. They always stand at attention, like a fortress." A pretty pink blush creeps up her neck and settles on her round cheeks. "Kind of like you."

I’m completely speechless. I don’t deserve this. Her kindness is entirely unearned. Yet I can’t help but turn my face toward her warm light, soaking it in like a starving man.

She traces the edge of a leaf with her delicate fingertips. "I always had one of these in my bedroom in the trailer where I grew up. I liked to think of it as a shield. Like it would somehow shield me from whatever was on the other side of my door."

Every protective instinct I possess snaps to attention. The air in my lungs turns to ice. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "What was inside that trailer you needed protecting from?"

She looks flustered. Her eyes dart away from mine, and her breathing hitches. She recovers quickly, flashing a bright, forced smile. "No, no. I just meant the door to the outside world."

I don’t believe her. Not for a single second.

I need to know who put that fear in her eyes, but before I can ask another question, my phone buzzes obnoxiously in my heavy leather jacket. When I see Wolf’s name flash across the screen, I know I have to answer it.

I take a step backward toward the door, holding my phone up to let her know why I’m leaving. She nods and waves, still holding the plant while giving me a soft, sweet smile. I back out of the shop, completely thrown off by her soothing presence.

The moment my boots hit the pavement outside, the chaos, stress, and noise crash back into my head like a tidal wave. I look back through the glass window. For a second, I think there must be a magical shield keeping out the dark world. Then the truth settles deep in my gut. It isn't the shop at all. It’s the woman singing inside it.

CHAPTER TWO

SORAYA

"So, Kane is treating you well?" I ask, cradling my phone between my ear and shoulder.

I carefully mist a row of delicate orchids. Marlowe’s bright laugh fills the receiver. It’s a beautiful sound, a sound I rarely heard when we were growing up in our rough Denver trailer park.

"He’s amazing, Soraya. The best. Things have been crazy since he took over Forge Creek Municipal Contractors, but we are so happy."

The name of their business sounds so official and established. I smile, swooning a little at my best friend’s happy ending. I remember when loan sharks were coming after Marlowe, breaking into her apartment. They even got my personal number to threaten me with warnings. Now she is safe and deeply loved by her mountain man, Kane Langston.

I want that. I harbor a quiet, persistent ache of loneliness in my chest. Moving fifteen hundred miles away from Denver to Washington State was necessary, but the isolation is heavy.

"Enough about me," Marlowe says softly. "How is the shop?"

My heart flutters with immediate excitement. "It’s absolutely perfect. My vision of hanging plants, bright flowers out front, and a big display window has come to life.”

“What name did you decide on? I remember you were debating between two or three different ones.”

I smile as I tell her, “Oopsie Daisies.”

My friend giggles, and I join her. I knew I wanted something whimsical or punny, because why not? I love when I catch someone walking past the shop and smiling when they see the sign. If I can inject just a little joy into someone’s day, then I’ve done a good job. Of course, selling plants and flowers helps, too.

“That’s perfect for you, Soraya. Will you send me a picture of the display window with your shop name and hanging plants? I want to see your hard work. Plus, I want to envision you in your shop, living your best life. It would make it easier to accept the fact that you moved so damn far away.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel abandoned–”

“Don’t even go there,” she warns. “I don’t blame you for getting the hell out of there when you had the chance. Your parents were going to either kill each other, themselves, or you.”

My nose scrunches up at her accurate description of my mom and dad. She’s right, I had no choice. Their volatility and drug abuse would have been the death of me, and them.

“All that’s in the past now, right? Anyway, Oopsie Daisies has seen a flood of new customers since the rebrand and facelift. I might be in debt, but I’m making it work.”

It still feels like a wonderful dream. I reached out to the previous owner through a simple job listing without any high expectations. After a few months as the store manager, Mr. and Mrs. Kelly proposed that I take over officially, letting them retire and live out their golden years.

I pay off the owner in monthly increments, along with the loan I took out from the bank to pay for the remodel. Profits are incredibly slim for now, but I’m getting new customers every month and growing bit by bit. The tiny upstairs apartment covers my basic needs, even if I’m currently sleeping on a partially deflated air mattress to save money. I don’t mind. It’s still my happy place.

Marlowe and I wrap up the call with promises to check in soon. I turn my attention to the front windows, smiling as the ferns and trailing philodendrons catch the fading afternoon light. I hum softly, singing a gentle lullaby to coax their growth.