Jack’s eyes widened. “You have a son?”
“Wow.”The monster’s irritation bled into me. I was tempted to give in to its temper and tell this stranger to fuck right off.
Mom cut in. “Jack, is there a place we can speak alone?”
The monster and I turned our head to stare at her, indignant.
“I suppose.” Jack cleared his throat again, shooting me a look. “Storm brought a branch down on the greenhouse roof.” He extended the toolbox. “We were just about to start on repairs, if you could bring this out to my daughter?”
I didn’t move.
“Artie. Please.” Mom turned her gaze to mine. “Do this for me.”
Sometimes I hated how I loved her. Even knowing that she wanted to leave me, I couldn’t help the gut-clench desire to please her anyway. Maybe if I did, she’d stay.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Jack added quickly.
When I snatched up the toolbox, Jack’s shoulders relaxed. He nodded to the kitchen door. “There’s a path leading straight to it, if you follow the stepping sto—”
I took pleasure in slamming the door on his instructions. The moment their voices started up again, however, I quietly pressed my ear to the wood. Only muffled words came through.
You safe?
Could have called me.
Sorry.
Emotion hard in my throat, I stepped back and crept down theclearly indicated path. This place was a fucking Eden. It put me on edge. I didn’t belong in a place so full of life. With every step, the monster pressed against the confines of my skin, willing me to trail my fingers through the swaying flora. A fluffy gray-and-white kitten froze in place when it saw me. It didn’t outwardly look afraid, but the monster’s awareness revealed the animal’s heartbeat racing.
It was almost a relief to see a little glass house come into view. Almost, until I remembered what greenhouses were for. I would find no relief from the living there.
With a scowl, I flung open the door.
A girl crouched below a hole in the ceiling, sweeping broken glass. Her long golden braid kissed the floor, wispy curls frizzing a soft, round face. She looked up, clearly startled to have been disturbed. “Who are you?”
A cotton clothesline strung with drying herbs bisected the room. Two beautifully stained wooden counters faced each other, each lined with pots in every color, shape, and size. A rich, earthy smell assaulted my nose, and my eyebrows shot to my hairline at the sight of bright green moss carpeting the floor in a layer so thick I couldn’t see what lay beneath.
I thrust out the toolbox. “No one.”
This place was too vibrant. It pulsed with life, sang to me, yearned for my touch. The monster was practically thrumming with excitement at our proximity to so much greenery.
I had to leave.
The girl took the toolbox, eyes dropping to my hands. It was too hot for gloves. Her lips parted as though to speak. I didn’t give her the chance, turning to go. But in my blind rush, I miscalculatedmy proximity to the garden tools slumped near the door, and when my foot came down on the tines of an ancient rake, it snapped up and smacked me in the nose.
I barked a cry of pained surprise.
“Oh my gosh!” the girl gasped. “Are you okay?”
No. My face was broken.
“I’m fine,” I grunted, even as a groan of pain bubbled up from deep in my chest.
“You’re bleeding!”
I shook off the girl’s concern, stepping away. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Let me get you a rag.” She either hadn’t heard the mumbled words or had chosen to ignore them. “Here—”
