Chapter Twenty-Four
Luke
Gus eyed the lampshades I’d humped back from my garage. “They don’t look anything like vases.”
“Neither did what she had in the back of the van. They were like goldfish bowls.”
He stared at me like I’d grown horns. “You could tell that from the smashed glass?”
“Actually, I saw her packing them up the other day when I was waiting for you to findyour phone.”
“That makes more sense.” Gus shut Mia’s van door, complete with its boarded-up window. “You’re starting to freak me out.”
I gave him the finger and set the box down on the ground. Fetching it had gifted me a welcome distraction to whatever was going down between Mia and the friendly policewoman, but now I was back, worry gnawed at my gut again. I couldn’t have cared less aboutmy own van, but the attack on Mia’s was creepy. More than that. It was fucking terrifying.
“They’re not going to stand up.” Gus held a glass lampshade up to the security light in the courtyard. “You can’t put these in the middle of a table.”
“We can shave the bottom off.”
“With what? Last time I checked, my sister didn’t have any power tools knocking around.”
I hadn’t thought ofthat when I’d been in my garage, surrounded by every tool under the sun, and I didn’t fancy another midnight walk through town. I’d do it, though...for her.
Thankfully, there turned out to be no need. Gus had the keys to Mia’s van, and he was insured to drive it.
He departed for my house to fix the lampshades, leaving me to keep watch in the courtyard. I couldn’t describe how I felt. SeeingMia vulnerable broke me, and there was guilt too. I’d missed so many moments to keep her safe, and even now I was still letting her down. Still loitering in the background when I should’ve been at her side. That shit had to change.
Ten minutes into my solo vigil, the back door to Mia’s shop opened. The policewoman stepped out and gave me a hard look before moving on to her car, but I barelynoticed as I waited for Mia to appear.
When she didn’t, I hauled myself off the step I’d been lounging on and crossed the courtyard to the back door.
It was unlocked. I slipped inside and locked it behind me. “Mia?”
“I’m in the front,” she called back flatly.
I followed the sound of her voice, drawn to her by an invisible cord, and found her on the floor of her shop, surroundedby flowers and tools, despair clouding her usually fierce gaze.
“Don’t start,” she said. “I’ve got so much to do.”
I took in her pale face and bloodshot eyes, and dropped to her side. “Can I help?”
“Help?”
“Yeah. I know jack about flowers, but I can follow orders.”
“Is that some kind of pun?”
“What do you think?”
“I think your hands are too big to manhandle daisies,so if you really want to help, you can trim down those roses for the buttonholes.”
“Show me.”
Mia picked up a white rose and cut the stem with a small knife, then stripped the leaves from the remaining stalk so she was left with just the bloom. “Like that. Don’t stuff it up. I don’t have any backup.”
Yes, you do.I took the box of roses from her, and the knife, and claimed a placeopposite her on the floor. My throat burned with a thousand confessions, but I kept quiet as we worked. I knew her. She’d have no focus until this was done. Much had changed about both of us, but not that.
Gus came back when I was halfway through my task, brandishing a box of fifteen shaved lampshades.
