Page 6 of Small Town Daddy

I looked up to see Mrs. Henderson, one of our oldest regular customers, peering at me with concern.

"Morning, Mrs. H," I said, forcing a smile. "Just doing some... reorganizing. What can I help you with today?"

Mrs. Henderson had run a small, all-female decorating company, called Henderson’s Hens, for over 30 years, and she always came to me for supplies—just like she’d come to my dad before me.

She gave me a knowing look. "Oh, I think I can find what I need. But are you alright, dear? You seem a bit out of sorts."

I hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. Mrs. Henderson had known me since I was a kid running around the store in diapers. But admitting weakness didn't come easily.

I sighed softly. "Just one of those days, I guess."

She tilted her head, her sharp eyes studying me. "You know, your grandfather used to get that same crease between his brows when something was bothering him."

I chuckled despite myself. "I suppose it runs in the family."

She reached out and patted my hand. "Sometimes talking helps, Marcus. You don't have to carry the weight alone."

I felt a flicker of warmth at her concern. "Thanks, Mrs. H. It's nothing serious, just... life stuff."

She nodded knowingly. "Well, if you ever need a listening ear, you know where to find me. Now, where did you move those paintbrushes to?"

I grinned, grateful for the change of subject. "Aisle three, right where they've always been. Let me show you."

As she wandered off to browse, I took a deep breath, trying to draw strength from her words and the familiar surroundings of the store. One day at a time. That's all I could do for now.

The cheerful jingle of the front doorbell cut through my brooding. I looked up to see Brett striding in, his Small Falls Fire Department shirt crisp and neat. A playful grin lit up his face as he held up two steaming cups of coffee.

"Morning, brother!" he called out. "Thought you could use a caffeine kick."

The sight of my little brother, so full of life and energy, lifted my spirits. A genuine smile spread across my face for the first time that morning.

"You're a lifesaver," I replied, gratefully accepting the cup. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted up, already working its magic. "Long night?"

Brett shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just the usual cat-in-tree rescue. You know, real dangerous, hero stuff."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh yeah, real tough guy over here. Rescuing kittens and helping little old ladies cross the street."

"Hey, don't knock it," Brett shot back, his grin widening. "Those cats have claws, man. And Mrs. Bradley's walker is a lethal weapon."

We shared another laugh, the easy camaraderie between us evident. These moments with Brett were a lifeline, reminding me I wasn't as alone as I sometimes felt. The tightness in my chest eased a little.

"So," I said, taking a sip of the coffee. "What brings Small Falls' finest to my humble establishment this early?"

Brett settled against the counter, his eyes glinting mischievously as he took a sip of his own coffee. "Funny you should ask. I ran into Jenna the other day. You remember her friend Sarah?"

I felt a knot form in my stomach. I knew where this was going. "Here we go," I groaned, though I couldn't help but smile at my brother's persistence.

"What?" Brett's voice was all innocence, but his grin gave him away. "She's nice, smart, loves the outdoors... Oh, and did I mention she's single now?"

I shook my head, feeling a familiar heaviness settle over me. "I appreciate the thought, Brett, but I'm not really looking to date right now."

Brett raised an eyebrow, his expression softening. "Still? It's been over a year since... Well, you know."

The unfinished sentence hung in the air between us. Images of Emily flashed through my mind, and I had to push them away. "I know," I replied softly, focusing on the grain of the wooden counter. "I just need more time. Plus it’s not like I need a relationship. Not like I’m gonna drop dead because I don’t have a girlfriend."

I could feel the weight of Brett's concern pressing in. He meant well, but he didn't understand. How could he, when I hadn't told him the whole truth? The real reason Emily had left, the part of myself I'd revealed to her that she'd rejected so completely.

Part of me wanted to open up, to explain the mess of emotions I was still sorting through. But another part, the part that had learned to guard itself, held back.

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