Chapter Text
Jenny never believed she’d find companionship or love. Intimacy felt like something that belonged in books. Her life, as it was, was lovely. She was principal of her father’s beloved school. She had her home back. She had adopted a beautiful daughter who, at sixteen, was nearly a college graduate.
Matilda was away at summer camp, leaving the house quiet and Jenny unexpectedly lonely. In a few years, she thought, Matilda would leave for graduate school, and the house would echo. Maybe then she would sell it.
It was that thought — of the house too large, too silent — that sent Jennifer Honey to the bookstore and coffee shop in the center of town. She found a new novel, settled into a corner chair with tea and a scone, and greeted students and parents who passed with warmth and easy affection.
She pushed her glasses up her nose and sneezed abruptly, barely catching it with the handkerchief tucked into her watchband.
“Bless you,” a kind voice said.
Jenny turned — and promptly choked on her tea.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just allergies,” Jenny said, cheeks flushed.
The woman in front of her was striking — boyish, handsome, with close-cropped black hair and piercing blue eyes softened by laugh lines. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful person Jenny had ever seen.
“I’m Riley.” She held out her hand.
“Jenny,” she replied, looking down at their joined hands, skin tingling.
“May I sit?”
“Oh — yes, please.”
Riley settled into the chair across from her. “I just moved here. Lunch break. No open seats.” She smiled. “Lucky me — I saw you saying hello to all those kids.”
“Oh, I’m a teacher. Well — a principal.”
“Your students?”
Jenny nodded, trying not to stare at the tattoos winding down Riley’s arms.
And then it hit — a rush of heat, her throat tightening, vision narrowing. Panic, sudden and fierce.
“I’m so sorry,” Jenny said, already gathering her bag. “I have to go.”
“Are you okay?” Riley asked, genuine concern in her eyes.
“Yes. I just — forgot something.”
And she fled, shame burning as she walked quickly home.
⸻
Jennifer Honey carried her childhood like a shadow stitched into her skin. Once, her world had been warm — lavender soap, bedtime stories, sunlight through lace curtains.
Then her mother died in a car accident when she was five. The hospital lights were too bright. The doctor’s voice too calm. The world tilted.
Her aunt, Agatha Trunchbull, arrived soon after. What followed was not care. Her father died months later, ruled a suicide. Agatha claimed guardianship — and control. The house grew silent and hard. Rules were iron. Meals were meager. Punishments were inventive. The chokey was real enough. Jenny learned early that stillness kept her safer than protest. That silence was survival. Books became her refuge — until even those were taken.
By sixteen, she moved through the world like a ghost — quiet, watchful, composed. But something unbreakable endured. It carried her through teacher training, through the day she walked out with nothing but a suitcase. It helped her build a life defined by gentleness rather than fear.
The scars, however, remained. Loud voices tightened her chest. Unexpected touch could freeze her in place. Intimacy felt impossible. Closeness had once meant danger.
But the night after she met Riley, lying awake in the quiet house, there was a flicker of something else.
If she could find her again, Jenny thought, maybe she could try. Maybe she could explain. Maybe she could begin.
***
Across town, in a small behind the bar where Riley worked, she strummed her guitar, and thought about Jenny’s soft brown eyes. She’d asked around the bar and someone finally told her where she lived. Would it be too weird to just show up at her house holding flowers and muffins and a proposal of marriage? The stars outside her open window blinked at her and she felt like howling at the moon. She’d seen her once, barely talked to her, but she was in love with Miss Jenny Honey, Principal….