CHAPTER 8
sarah
Heat radiates off the glass walls of the greenhouse, carrying the fragrance of rosemary, mint, basil, and flowers I don’t know by name but recognize by memory.
The scents of summer even in March.
The lights glow warm in the glasshouse, throwing golden halos across the rows of herbs and blossoms Mav coaxes from the soil with a patience only a farmer could have. Beyond the glass, the canyon is swallowed in darkness.
Joy insisted we come here, refusing to let Hunt drop me off at my place so I could crawl under the covers and shut out the day.
She wore her bossy smile—the one I’m starting to recognize—the kind that says,Resistance is futile.
Aria pours whiskey into small tumblers, handing one to Joy before sliding into a wicker armchair with one for herself. “Does it bother you if we drink?”
“Not at all.”
“Should I get you something else?”
I shake my head. I’m fine. I don’t need a drink of any kind.
I just need…yeah, Sarah, what do you need?Peace. Love. Erasure of the past. Happiness. Love. Cade…?
“Why don’t you drink alcohol, Sarah?” Joy asks placidly.
I lick my lips. The words dry up in my throat. I don’t talk about what happened, at least not outside a therapist’s office, anymore. The last time I tried, my so-called friends turned their backs, accused me of lying, of wanting what Landon did to me.
“You don’t have to answer Miss Nosy here.” Aria takes a long pull of the whiskey.
We sit warm and tucked away at one end of the greenhouse, where Mav has created a cozy seating nook: four wicker armchairs, a low coffee table, and Navajo blankets thrown across the backs of the chairs. It is designed to be a place of rest, with the scent of lavender drifting in from one side and, through the glass on the other, the mountains loom quiet and eternal.
“I…it’s…I…,” I sigh, feeling weak instead of strong.
My therapist warned me about this—that coming back to Wildflower Canyon could make me regress, make me at times feel like the girl I used to be instead of the woman I’ve worked so hard to become.
Joy’s smile is soft. “You know I used to live in New York. Came here a few years ago.”
Aria gives her friend a concerned look. There’s somehistory here because of the tension. As my therapist says, where hysteria is historical, if you’re having a strong response to something, it’s not merely external, it’s coming from somewhere inside of you.
“I…haven’t talked about this with anyone, not even Mav, and I tell himeverything. Well, most everything.” Joy downs her whiskey and sets the empty glass down. “I ran from New York because I stopped feeling safe. I was dating. Nice guy. Nice family. You know, no red flags.”
I close my eyes. I don’t know if I want to hear her story. I know what’s coming.
“Well, one night…he suggests that we have a threesome. I say, hell no.” Joy releases a long breath. “Then, a week later…he drugs me.”
Aria gasps. “Oh, Joy.”
My heart folds in on itself.
Joy lets out a long breath, shaking her head slowly. “Nothing happened…. Well, Iwasdrugged. He was going to invite his friend over and they were….” She looks me in the eyes and holds my gaze. “But he didn’t drug me well enough. I woke up while he was talking to his friend on the phone. I heard every word. I snuck out and stayed away. Next thing I know, the son of a bitch is stalking me, bullying me, saying we should get back together. I knew if I told Mav, he’d kill the prick. And in any case, I wanted to come home. I wanted to feel safe. And so, I did. I healed. I date now.” She smiles. “I flirt with Hunt.”
“Because he makes you feel safe,” Aria says kindly.
“Yeah, he does,” Joy agrees. “I ran away, Sarah. Do you think I was weak?”
“No,” I cry out. “You were…brave. Youarebrave. Look at you. You’re living your life to the fullest and?—”
“No…I’m not,” she throws in, a determined look on her face. “This is the first time I’ve talked about it. But you? I know you went to the police. You told your boyfriend. You told your father.Theydidn’t believe you.”
