“Ten minutes till it’s ready.”
“I’ll go clean up then.”
He turned to go and it required all my effort to keep my thoughts from following him to the shower.
TWENTY-FOUR
Jack
After another long shift, I came home. Something I now looked forward to. But the house and kitchen were completely quiet today. So much so, I wondered if Miranda and Kacey were sleeping. I kept my voice low just in case. “Miranda?”
Waiting for a response, gentle laughter floated in from the back yard. I went to the back door and peered out. Miranda and my neighbor Richard knelt next to the garden beds. Kacey was doing something—waving his arms around and flopping into the grass repeatedly. They were laughing at him. I chuckled too. He was a really cute kid.
I strode out to the porch and leaned against the railing, just watching.
My heart ached for a moment. The sound of laughter alone was enough to send my thoughts into a spiral. I loved having Kacey and Miranda in my home. I was on a mission to convince Miranda to stay; to somehow give me a secondchance. Our problems weren’t water under the bridge by any means. They loomed large. But there had to be a way to fix things. If I only knew where to start.
She wore that pink tank top again and khaki shorts. Her hair fell out of the messy bun on her head in wisps. She had always complained about how fine her hair was because it slipped out of whatever hairstyle she attempted. But the tousled look was beautiful on her—and drove me crazy.
As if on cue, she removed her garden gloves and reached up to gather her hair back into a ponytail. She arched her back and stretched her arms behind her head, raking her fingers through the spun gold as she conversed with Richard. Man, I certainly loved to torment myself because I watched the whole time. Shamelessly enjoying my chance to admire her undetected. She twisted the rubber band around and pulled her hair through. It would only be a matter of time before she had to repeat the routine.
Jules’ words had haunted me a hundred times a day since our phone call.
Just know it might not end the way you want it to.
I’d been called passionate. Determined. Very little would get in my way when there was something I wanted. And I wanted Miranda with me forever. This whole arrangement would end the way I wanted. I would make sure of it.
Miranda must’ve sensed my presence because she looked toward the house. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. For a moment, our gazes held. Her eyes widened right before she tore them away—she realized I’d been watching her. She searched the grass for a few seconds, trying to locate her gloves. Which were right in front of her, draped over the edge of the garden bed. My attention typically had this effect on her. She’d lose her cool—her voice would falter, she’d get distracted, or flutter around for afew moments.
There was heat between us. We’d look dumb trying to deny it. Every night, we watched Food Network and she’d end up sitting close. We hadn’t fallen asleep in each other’s arms again, but I held her hand one brief time. Her signals were mixed though. Hot then cold. Some nights she was easy to draw in, and some nights she kept her distance.
After she pulled her gloves on, she looked up again and waved me out. My feet obeyed without question.
Kacey waved and ran up to my side. “Hi, Dack!”
“Hey, buddy.” I swiped grass off the top of his head.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the garden beds. “Yook what we panting!”
Richard and Miranda greeted me as Kacey launched into a detailed explanation of the tiny transplants all around. Tomatoes, peppers, basil, cucumbers, squash, and marigolds.
Miranda smiled. “We’re just getting started. Want to help?”
Could I say no to her?
She had apologized to me yesterday for not asking first before using the garden—as if I would’ve been upset or something. She didn’t realize she could have whatever she wanted.
“Sure!”
Richard showed us how to gently remove the plants from the tiny plastic containers. He had grown all these from seed himself.
“This is the most exciting part of planting a garden. Newness. The beginnings.” Richard didn’t look as nimble as the last time I saw him. He rambled on about the plants, absentmindedly smoothing the dirt while he talked. “It’s the part everyone skips to, but few are prepared for. See, these little plants are tender.” He brushed his hand down the side of a tomato seedling and sniffed his fingers. “Right now, they’re weaklings. Too much water, a cold snap, heat waves, and any number of things can kill them off pretty quick.”
Miranda stuck her shovel into the dirt, making a little hole.
Richard cleared his throat, though it did nothing to clear the rasp in his voice. “They haven’t had time to root. Lots of folks make the mistake of sticking ’em in the ground, tossing some water on, and hoping for the best. They think the hard part is over.” His chuckle was low, knowing. “They get what they work for, and so will you. Neglect will affect the bounty. You might getsomeharvest, but it won’t be nothing to write home about.”
I stifled a snort. Richard was very serious about this business. I glanced at Miranda and she grinned from ear to ear, thoroughly enraptured. She loved older people and clearly ate this up. She chattered with Richard and kept pulling Kacey into the tasks, letting his little fingers fumble through the process of fishing the tiny plants out. She had always been so easy to please. This type of stuff—simple things—is what Miranda lived for. I loved that about her.
