“...or you could just use your hands,” said Louise, her eyes huge.
Being outside hadn’t cooled my lust at all. It had just brought everything into sharp focus. And the way she was treating me was defusing my anger, the only thing that had helped to keep me in check.
“Now take the plant,” she said, holding it out towards me. “Careful of the thorns.”
I gazed past it, straight into her eyes. “I can’t do this,” I muttered.
“Yes you can,” she said, her voice growing softer. Then, “I believe you can.”
This is stupid. This is fucking stupid, just get the thing in the ground and get out of here.I grabbed the stem in my fist, not caring about the thorns that stabbed into my flesh, and slammed the roots into the hole. My whole body had gone tense, every muscle quivering—
But suddenly, Louise was beside me, her hand between my shoulders. All the tension eased away—however much I tried to cling onto it.
“Cover up the roots,” she told me. “Gently.”
I bulldozed the piles of dirt inward with my palms until the hole was filled.
“Pat it down a little,” she whispered. Her mouth was almost at my ear, each word tickling.
I put my palms on the mound of soil and patted at it, feeling stupid. But then her cool hands were on top of mine, the smooth softness of them sliding over my knuckles, and my patting died away. And then we were just kneeling there, me like a hulking beast and her like some foolish maiden wrapped around me, her red hair blowing against my cheek, her hanging breast brushing my side.
I need to get angry. I need to get angry right now.
“It’s okay,” she breathed, so softly I wondered if I was imagining it.
I told myself that she couldn’t possibly understand, that she had no fucking idea what was inside me. But then she said, “See? You can grow stuff. Instead of just tearing it down.”
And her hand slid down my back to the place where the scars were.
Suddenly, my anger came back, a flash of heat that filled my whole body. I grabbed her wrist and wrenched, tossing her over onto her back and, before I even knew what I was doing, I was on top of her, my knee between her legs. “What are you doing?” I yelled. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Her eyes were big and liquid, but she was staring up at me in defiance. She was scared as hell, but trying to put up a front. “I just want to help you,” she panted.
“I don’t need your help!” I yelled. “It’smehelpingyou!There’s nothing wrong with me!”
We stared at each other, both of us breathing in ragged gasps. I knew she must be terrified. I wanted her to be terrified, because then she’d stop.
“Stay away from me,” I told her. “Or I’ll—”
I stared into her eyes...and I couldn’t say the words. Not even for her sake. I couldn’t so much as think about doing her harm.
“No you won’t,” she whispered.
My hands were flat on the ground on either side of her head. I felt my fingers claw into the dirt. “Youdon’t want this,”I told her.
She took two big, shuddering gulps. “Yes I do.”
The look in her eyes, the concern she had for me, siphoned off the last of my precious anger. And then I lost control completely, leaned down and kissed her.
26
LOUISE
I’d hadthe rose stashed away out back for days in the hope he’d show up, watering both it and the ground to keep it all ready for him. I’d just wanted to do something nice for him, to apologize for asking about the scars. Then, when he’d been about to walk out, when I thought of him getting in his car and driving back to that world of violence....
I couldn’t let him go.
I’d watched myself kneeling down on the grass with him and touching his back, like putting my head between a lion’s jaws. I’d screamed at myself not to do it. But the need to help him, to find that man he used to be, the one someone had cruelly scarred, was too strong.
