“The plants,” she cries, muffled against me.
“I’ll gather them up and make sure they’re okay.” I tip her chin up until she meets my eyes. “Just like us. We’re okay now, right?”
“Uh huh.” Her tears glimmer as she nods.
“I do love you, Fallon.” I kiss her softly, just once more, before turning back toward the dead body, the blood, the dirt, and broken glass waiting for me.
Chapter 43
Fallon
After I wash my hands, Rhys sits me on his bed with strict orders to stay here.
“Please save the plants,” I murmur. “Our plants.”
“I’ll save them, I promise.” He throws on a pair of gray sweats and sneakers and leaves. Minutes later, he comes back with the sole survivor. “The pot is cracked, but hold this one while I clean up.”
I smell the earthy coriander before I see the stem and leaves. “Cory,” I say, and reach for him.
“Hold on, Fal. It’s going to be all right.” Rhys kisses my forehead.
The way he needs me to be strong toughens me up, and it’s easy to hold back the tears. “I got this. Go.”
“You got this. I have faith in you.” Rhys winks at me and heads back to the kitchen.
With the door still half open, the distant clatter of glass being swept, and furniture being dragged back across the hardwood floor, create a movie in my head about the clean-up.
The smell of soil drifts down the hall and clings to me like ghosts of the plants he’s trying to save. But every few minutes, I hear Rhys curse.
He drags a tarp filled with mounds of dirt into the bedroom. Lithe stems and their droopy leaves are flopped over, root balls aching for a new home. “I think I got them all. Talk to them. Tell them they’ll be all right.”
I gently lay Cory and his broken pot on a nightstand, then slither to the floor to assess the plants that we need to save. Leaves bruised, stems split, soil scattered like wrecked ships thrown against the rocks in a hurricane.
“I know you’re scared,” I whisper to them, sitting cross-legged in front of the tarp. My voice wobbles, but I smile to show them bravery. “That was scary. But you’re okay. You’re still here. Just like when I plucked you from the garden.”
Minty’s tiny leaf shivers when I touch her.
“You’re safe now,” I promise. “I’ll fix you.”
My ears are still ringing, not just from the gunshot, but from the fact that I pulled the trigger and killed a man.
That fades when somewhere down the hall, I hear Rhys’s voice rumble low on the phone. His tone is sharp, commanding. “I need the bone saw and more tarps. I’ve run out. Duct tape. And—” After a pause, he adds, “Small planters. Gloves and potting soil. The good kind. Top of the range, mate.”
My heart folds in on itself, hearing how important we are to him.
Sometime later, the front door opens, and the muffled thud of boots joins the rumble of sounds that I’ve lost track of. I have what matters right here in front of me. Except Rhys.
Male voices, low and clipped, sound like Blade and Jett. And they sound happy to be teamed up again.
Rhys keeps his voice calm and measured while handing out instructions. He’s the leader in this crisis.
I can’t fall apart. He needs me to be strong. I don’t want him to come back in here and see me curled up into a ball or a twisted mess like Cami’s roots.
Gently and carefully, I gather each plant and mold the remaining soil around their root ball.
“You’re okay,” I whisper to each. “A new home is on the way and more soil. I’ll give you fresh food and water. Stay with me. Rhys needs us.”
“Here, love.” Rhys brings in a small bag of potting soil and a stack of plastic pots. “They’re not the pretty ones. We’ll order more of those. Use these for now.”
