Page 80

Alessandra had not, but Garrett had readily accepted it. He’d taken it to college with him, probably to ensure Alessandra didn’t find it and throw it away.

“And I found something.”

He pulled out a yellowed satchel, its age apparent.

“It was the only thing in there I couldn’t identify. I would have thrown it out ages ago, but there’s some kind of dried flower or something inside, so I kept it thinking it might mask the old-stuff stink.”

Garrett had such a way with words.

“So what is it?” She opened the satchel and stared at the contents, unimpressed. “It looks like a bunch of dead branches to me.”

Garrett reached over and pulled one out. It was, indeed, a small branch. “I asked a friend of mine once what they were. His father owns a flower shop. He said they were wild roses.” Garrett shrugged. “But you have to admit it’s an odd thing for Father to keep.”

Father.

Garrett had always referred to him that way, as if he truly had been their father once, when nothing could be further from the truth. When memories of him did push their way into her conscious thought, Alessandra shoved them away. Much too painful to remember the man that hoisted her into the air rather than the one who abandoned them.

“I suppose. But I can’t say it helps much—”

“No, but when you called me . . . I don’t know, Allie, something told me to fish this out.”

Her heart lurched. Garrett had been the only male in their family, and for so long, he had been a boy. Those big brown eyes had always looked so innocent and loving. But somewhere along the way that had changed. He had become an adult without her noticing.

“Do you feel anything else?” she asked cautiously, remembering the sensation that had washed over her the night before. It went away just as quickly, and she wondered now if her mind had been playing tricks on her. Being a Cheld was anything but an exact science.

He frowned. “No. But there was no way in hell I wasn’t coming down here to see you after what you told me.”

She should have known better. Alessandra handed the satchel back to him.

What was she supposed to do now? Should she risk going to Kenton for comfort, for answers? Should she seek out Lawrence or his sister?

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said slowly, keeping his eyes pinned on hers.

What a mess.

There were actually a few somethings, but she wasn’t sure how much she should tell him. She wanted him to be safe.

“I’m not sure what you—”

“Allie.”

“So . . . how long are you here for?”

“As long as I need to be.”

She’d been naïve to think he could become involved in this partway. Eventually, Garrett would have to learn the full truth.

“You can stay for the day,” she said cautiously.

“The day—”

“And in the meantime”—no time like the present—“there’s someone you need to meet.”

Garrett stood, shoving his satchel into the side pocket of his shorts.

“OK,” he said in his typical go get ’em attitude. “Who? When?”

“Today,” she said. “And as for the who . . . we’ll leave that until after a cup of tea.”