“I didn’t want an ambulance,” Belle says, winces as her mom bends down to look at her ankle.
I prepare to get a lecture about how I should have called an ambulance or something, but my aunt stays calm. She grabs her keys and throws a coat on over her pajamas, and then we get into her car, Belle stretching out in the back seat.
Everyone is silent while she drives to the hospital. I suddenly feel so stupid. I’m almost eighteen. I should be smarter than this. I should have called an ambulance instead of walking my cousin that far. I could have run to Aunt Kate’s house myself and then came back to get her in the car. I should have done things very differently than I have.
We pull into the parking lot at the hospital, right up front near the emergency room. “I’ll go borrow a wheelchair,” I say, jumping out of the car right before it rolls to a stop.
When I bring the back wheelchair for my cousin, Aunt Kate puts a hand on my shoulder. “You did the right thing,” she says softly, her voice reassuring all the insecurities inside my heart. “I’m glad you were there for her.”
* * *
The anxiety godsmust be smiling down on us, because the emergency room is empty. No one lingers on the waiting room chairs. Only one nurse works at the triage desk, and she takes Belle back to a room quickly. My cousin’s face is white and freaked out, but she’s doing okay. I stay out in the waiting room to give her some privacy with her mom.
Now that it’s almost one in the morning, exhaustion is setting in. I haven’t been sleeping much since I spend my time before and after school in the garden, looking for the key. Not wanting to fall asleep in the waiting room, I pick up my phone and scroll through it, just to have something to do.
There’s a notification from the school’s document cloud site. The one Declan and I used to work on our group project together. I click the notification and see that Declan has left a comment on our paper, even though it was turned in for a grade weeks ago.
Hey… is everything okay with your cousin?
I click reply.
Her ankle is hurt. We’re at the hospital now. Here’s my number if you want to text me.
A few minutes later, a new number messages me.
Much better. I didn’t know how else to get ahold of you since you don’t use Knight Watch.
Me:I guess it’s about time we exchange numbers. Now we can be secret friends. Save my number as someone else’s name.
Declan:You’re taking this whole thing too seriously, I want to be your friend.
Me:I want to be your friend too, which is why I’m staying away from you. The Stokes are bad news.
It’s wild how my heart beats a little faster when I’m talking to Declan. Even over text, it’s like my brain goes haywire with how bad I’m crushing on him, even though we can never be anything more than that.
We exchange a few more random texts, and I tell him about how Belle fell and hurt herself so we went to her mom’s house to get a ride. I don’t tell him about her anxieties because I don’t want to share her personal business like that.
He doesn’t reply for a few minutes, and I almost fall asleep again. Then my phone beeps.
Declan: It seems like the garden is important to your cousin.
Me:It’s important to both of us. I promised I’d take her there, but I just have to find the key first.
Declan:She doesn’t know you don’t have the key?
Me:No… She also doesn’t know I’ve never actually been to the hidden garden. But I’m going to find it, and I’ll get her there. I made a promise and I’m keeping it.
Declan:What makes you think there’s a hidden garden?
Is he messing with me? Or does he really not know? How could Declan Moss, great grandson of the founder of the Shelfbrooke gardens not know about the hidden garden inside the very place he works? But the alternative—that he’s lying to me—is a little hard to swallow right now. Declan is my friend. I don’t want him to lie to me.
Help me find the key and I’ll show you,I text back.
That sounds like you just want an excuse to hang out with me, Declan texts. Then he sends a wink face emoji.
All the seriousness is gone now. We’re back to flirting and playful banter. Maybe he really doesn’t know about the garden.
Believe it or not, there’s more to my life than flirting with cute gardeners, I text.
