It isn’t destroyed, but it definitely didn’t get by untouched either. Several of the taller flower arrangements are sideways, knocked over by the strong gusts of wind. One of the trellises leans dramatically, and petals litter the ground like confetti.
“Minor damage,” Ember assesses.
“That’s my best snapdragon.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“It’s sideways, Ember!” I say exasperated, stepping onto the wet grass to fix it.
Behind me, Ember sighs, long-suffering but fond, and follows me.
The ground squishes under my shoes. The air smells like rain and fresh soil. I kneel beside the fallen snapdragon. Upon further inspection, I realize the plant did receive a little bit of damage from the tumble.
“It was perfect,” I mutter, righting the pot.
“It’s still beautiful, Habibi.”
I look up at him, ready to argue for the sake of arguing, but he’s already lifting the wrought iron trellis upright like it weighs nothing. Fixing the garden without thought.
For some reason, it pisses me the fuck off. His cool demeanor and reassurances only serve to build my already seething anger. I know it’s irrational, but I can’t help it.
“Stop being so damn calm about everything, Ember! If I want to be a little dramatic about my favorite flowers being knocked over during a tornado, then let me be fucking dramatic!” My chest is heaving, and I’m a little out of breath after my rant, but hopefully I got my point across clearly.
Ember, the asshole, merely lifts an eyebrow at me and nods his head in agreement.
“Yes, dear,” he says, like a beaten husband.
I snort, the absurdity of everything hitting me all at once. We just survived a tornado, and here I am freaking out over a couple of plants that will probably be perfectly fine.
When the trellis is pressed firmly back into the soil, he moves on to another cluster of flowers, carefully lifting stems and brushing dirt from petals with surprising gentleness. We work for a long time, and the silence is comfortable after the freight train tornado. We straightened pots, replanted flowers, and cleaned small chunks of debris from the beds. When we finish, the garden doesn’t look ruined anymore, and I can finally take a deep breath.
“I could’ve lost it,” I say as I stand, brushing mud from my hands and knees.
“The garden?” Ember asks, sympathy written all over his face.
“Yes, that too, but I meant the house. The business. Everything.” I shrug, uncomfortable with everything I’m feeling right now. No, I haven’t had this place for very long, but I’m quickly building a future I love for myself. I would’ve been devastated if that had been taken away from me today.
“Yes,” he says. “You could’ve lost the house.” Rain drips from the edge of the back porch behind him.
The simplicity of his answer tightens my chest. He’s letting me have my dramatic moment. To come down from the adrenaline rush. To mourn what I almost lost.
“Weren’t you scared at all?” I ask, stepping closer to him.
“I was terrified, Habibi,” he says, his eyes shining with earnestness.
“You didn’t seem like it,” I mutter.
“I was a little busy.”
“Busy?” I ask, confused. We were together the whole time. What could he possibly have been busy with that I didn’t notice?
“Making sure you weren’t scared,” he whispers as he cups my face again, the same way he did before in the closet.
His words do something dangerous to my heart. If I keep swooning around him, I’m gonna need a checkup. This can’t be normal.
The air between us feels different. Quieter and less charged, but somehow just as heavy.
“I wasn’t as scared as I probably could’ve been, thanks to you.”
