Taunting Callum - Kristen Proby Page 0,3

get together soon, okay?”

I smile at my friend. “I’d love that, Ellie. I’ll text you soon.”

“Lovely.” She pushes Callum toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Once they’re gone, I rush to the door and lock it. When I’m alone in my office, I let the tears come.

The son of a bitch forgot me. I didn’t expect him to fall over himself to see me or say hello. But to completely forget? It’s absolutely unforgivable.

I wipe my cheeks and resolve not to shed another tear for Callum Wakefield.

Chapter 1

~Aspen~

Present Day

“I hate today,” I mutter as I climb out of my car in front of Brooke’s Blooms and walk inside the beautiful floral shop. It’s late summer, and the fragrance that assaults my nostrils is glorious. This used to be my favorite time of year.

Used to be.

“Hey, Aspen,” Brooke says with a wide smile. She’s a pretty, petite woman with dark hair and an artistic eye for flowers. She never ceases to amaze me. I couldn’t put a bouquet together to save my life. And, thankfully, I don’t have to. Because I have Brooke.

“Good morning,” I reply. “I’m here to pick up the wreaths.”

“Of course. I’ll grab them from the cooler.”

She steps into the walk-in refrigerator. A few moments later, she comes back holding two wreaths, each about two feet in diameter, before setting them on the countertop.

“Beautiful,” I whisper and gently tickle the petals of a sunflower with my fingertips. “You did a wonderful job, Brooke.”

“I’m glad you like them,” she says. “Are these for your front door? Or for Drips & Sips?”

I shake my head but offer her a small smile. “No, they’re just something pretty to remember something I lost. Thanks again. You outdid yourself.”

I square the tab with her and leave the shop, a wreath in each hand as I walk back out to my car.

The drive to the little state park at the edge of Whitetail Lake doesn’t take long. It’s a beautiful late September morning. The sun is up, the birds chirping.

And I’m here to remember my dead husband and daughter.

I take the wreaths from the car and walk down to the shoreline. I’m alone down here, which I counted on. I don’t need anyone witnessing my grief. I’m a loner, an introvert at heart, and aside from a few very close friends, this isn’t something I plan to share with anyone. Especially strangers.

I squat next to the water and pick up Greg’s wreath first. I chose red peonies and lots of greens for his wreath. The peonies were in my wedding bouquet, and the greens are because Greg enjoyed being out in the wilderness more than almost anything. He said it’s where his heart was on fire.

And it killed him.

It killed both of them.

I was angry for a long time, but I can look back with bittersweet fondness now. I loved my husband with a passion. He was my match in every way. Had been with me since high school when I bounced from foster home to foster home.

When we got pregnant at sixteen, he didn’t leave me. He didn’t bail. He stuck right by me. Despite being painfully young and completely out of our element, we welcomed Emma into the world and did the best we could.

He worked two jobs. And with a ton of hard work and grit, we beat the odds. We had a loving marriage, a healthy, happy child, and a fantastic life.

I kiss one of the flowers, set the wreath on the water, and give it a push and watch as it travels over the calm surface.

“Rest easy, Greg,” I whisper and then look down at the second wreath.

This one is still a sucker punch to the gut.

My perfect baby girl was the light of my life. Her little laugh could make the sunshine seem dim. She had my red hair and her dad’s love of nature. The dirtier she got, the better. I fought a never-ending battle trying to keep her clean.

When Greg wanted to go camping one last time that summer, and I had to work, Emma was thrilled at the idea of spending two whole days with her daddy in the woods. I stayed back, working the shifts at the restaurant that I couldn’t get out of. But secretly, I wasn’t upset. Camping wasn’t really my thing.

It was theirs.

I brush my fingers over the sunflowers and sniff as tears fill my eyes. These flowers remind me of Emma, her bright smile and happy personality.

She was only seven when she