Page 108 of Middle Ground

“Will you be okay if I run to Ilsa’s?” I ask. “She wants me to come by to discuss the flowers for the mayor’s daughter’s wedding.”

The flowers for the ceremony itself were chosen by the bride, but some of the wedding guests have chosen to stay at the inn while they’re in town, so we wanted to match some of our floral pieces to the theme.

Pippa waves me off. “Go. We’ll be fine. I think the rush has mostly died down now.”

I push out of my chair. “Text me if you need me and I’ll come right back. Jackson should be around, too. He’s on his way home now.”

Home. Does he consider this place home? Or is he itching to get back to the city, to his life?

An uneasy feeling—like maybe letting myself get attached was a mistake—settles in my gut, but I push it away.Jackson and I have to talk, yes, but that doesn’t automatically mean the outcome is going to be bad. Right?

Pippa nods, closing her eyes. “And if you need me, I’ll be right here, taking a nap.”

That uneasy feeling spreads, and I find myself bending to envelop Pippa in a hug.

“Oof.” She hugs me back. “What’s this for?”

I pull away. “You know you’re my best gal, right?”

Slowly, she nods. “And you’re mine.” A look of suspicion takes over her face. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, I paste on a smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little off today, I guess, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciate you.”

She smiles back. “I appreciate you, too. Now go before Ilsa thinks you’ve gotten lost!”

Heading over now! See you soon.

I send a quick text to Jackson, letting him know where I’m going. I don’t want him to freak out when he gets back and can’t immediately find me. We’ve all been on edge since the rock was thrown through my window. Or, more accurately, for the past few months.

Fifteen minutes later, I walk down the sidewalk on Main Street. It took me forever to find a parking spot—all the ones nearest the florist were taken, but that’s par for the course in Fraisier Creek during the summer. When I make it to Little Treasure, I stop short. The sign in the window says it’s closed, and when I peer through the glass, it seems like all the lights are off.

Pulling out my phone, I check my text from Ilsa, thinking maybe I misread it. But I didn’t. She asked me to meet her at the shop. This causes a strange feeling to settle in my gut. I’m not sure exactly what it is, but something is up.

I round the side of the building and head for the back entrance. I know it’s usually used for deliveries, but this is also where Ilsa parks her car. The sedan is still sitting in its spot, so she must be inside.

I tug on the back door, expecting some resistance, but it opens for me easily. Trepidation slithers through my veins. Still, I keep going.

Poking my head in, I look around. “Ilsa?” I call.

I don’t hear anything in response. Stepping inside, I let the door close behind me. Back here, the lights are still switched on, but the eerie stillness of the shop has goosebumps rising on my flesh.

Something iswrong.

“Are you here?” I try again.

“Meyer, don’t?—”

Ilsa’s voice, coming from somewhere farther inside the shop, is abruptly cut off.

Dread coalesces in my gut. I steel myself, unsure of what I might find. Whatever it is, I know it’s not good. I can feel it.

When I come around the corner, I spot them immediately. Jackson and Ilsa are standing together by the flower fridges, Ilsa with a hand on Jackson’s arm. His arm that is covered in blood. Panicked, my eyes search his body, looking for the source. A wound on the side of his head seems to be the culprit.

“Jackson,” I breathe, taking a step forward. “What?—?”

Ilsa’s irises flare in warning, but she doesn’t have time to speak. Another figure enters my line of vision, stepping between us. I was so focused on Jackson, I didn’t even notice there was anyone else in the room. Or the fact that he has a gun.

I freeze in place, and then a million thoughts flit through my brain.