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“It’s okay. He wasn’t a very good father.” She brushed a dark curl out of her eyes, casting around for a change of subject. “Have you always been interested in medicine?” she asked as they resumed walking.

Blair slowed his pace a little, looking lost in thought. “Not exactly,” he admitted, sliding his hands into his pockets. “At least, I don’t think it was a natural tendency.”

Iris bent down to pick up a few sticks, shaking off the snow before slipping them into her bag. “What do you mean?”

He sidestepped a thick fallen tree coated in mildew and lichen. “I’ve spent much of my life alone at home. The woods surrounding our yard was one of the few places I was allowed to visit. There wasn’t much…entertainment. So, I had to come up with my own ways to pass the time.”

Iris watched him with a furrowed brow, questions thrumming through her mind like a steady pulse. She cleared her throat, stepping cautiously over a pile of scat in her path. “How much time did you have to pass?” She hoped Blair wouldn’t mistake her curiosity for nosiness.

Blair leaned against a tree with a small sigh. “A lot,” he confessed, glancing up at her from beneath his long lashes.

Iris’ breath caught. His reply had been a non-answer, and yet it somehow held a weight she hadn’t anticipated. She hoisted the tote bag further up her arm as flurries began to fall around them, drifting lazily on the light breeze. The sun was now hidden behind a family of puffy clouds as bright as starlight.

She cleared her throat. “So, you make your own medicines? Do you find all of your ingredients in the woods?”

“Some,” said Blair, shrugging. “Especially in the warmer months. A few useful plants grow in the winter at home though, more so than here. Many of the ingredients I had to purchase.” He kicked a stray rock out of their path. “At first, I just made things for my own use. A castor oil serum to try to lessen the appearance of my scars. Meadowsweet for pain management. Skullcap and oats for anxiety. Later, my family started requesting certain types of herbal medicines or skincare items, and I enjoyed expanding my knowledge.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair, smiling wryly. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

“Not at all.” Iris grinned. “What else did you do back home?” She suddenly felt as though it was her mission to unlock this stranger’s secrets one by one. She needed to try to rein in her curiosity before it got away from her.

Blair’s eyes were unfocused as he gazed at the distant mountains. “Time passes differently when you have too much of it.”

Iris nodded, though she didn’t really understand at all. Why hadn’t he been able to leave his house? And if his movements were monitored, what was he doing living under a bridge in Vitford?

“How old are you?” Iris asked. Her voice was barely audible over the wind that had arisen to rattle the surrounding branches.

She immediately wished she hadn’t asked as Blair’s face tightened. He broke a fresh evergreen shoot off the tree behind him and twisted it in his hands. Iris realized with a jolt that they too were covered in scars. She watched as he deftly tied the twig into a knot and pulled it taught. “In my mid-twenties, I think. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.” Iris frowned, wondering how someone could be unsure of their own age. But her question seemed suddenly insignificant as the wind accelerated through the trees, setting her heart racing.

Blair straightened up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Iris tried to smile. “I think I’ll bring this stuff back home now.” She raised the bag and saw Blair’s expression falter a fraction. “Why don’t you come with me?” she suggested. “You should probably get out of the cold for a little while.”

Blair looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want to impose.” He suppressed a violent shiver. Iris thought it was a small miracle that he hadn’t developed hypothermia after sleeping over the icy brook for goodness knew how long.

“Come on,” she said, tilting her head. “It’s just a few minutes’ walk.”

As they trekked through the woods toward home, Iris crossed her fingers in her pockets, hoping with all her heart that Gabriel had been wrong to be suspicious of Blair.

She just wished she had enough faith in her own instincts to be certain she was making the right choice.

6

Well, here we are.” Iris gestured to the cottage nestled behind the wilting roses and the purple fence. A dusting of freshly fallen snow had settled in the elms at either side of the house, and a thin layer of ice crusted up the windshield of her Nissan.

“It’s nice,” Blair said politely. He touched one of the rose petals and it fell off in his hand. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Iris unlocked the door with a click. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw Blair place the petal in his coat pocket. “Home sweet home,” she said, trying to quell her slight unease. She and Gabriel rarely had guests, except for Audrey and occasionally Gabriel’s friend Clement. Normally, she wouldn’t invite an acquaintance over without first informing Gabriel, knowing he would offer her the same courtesy.

Setting aside the feeling that she was somehow betraying her partner, Iris hoisted a smile onto her face as she waved her arm across the living room. “It’s small, but cozy,” she rambled, watching Blair’s restless eyes dart over the abstract paintings on the walls, the books scattered across every available surface. “Gabriel and I made it our own. It was my dad’s house originally.” Iris stepped around him, suddenly businesslike. “Anyway, let me grab a few things.”

While Blair waited in the kitchen, Iris slid the tote bag containing the holly and witch hazel under her bed before reaching for a small rattan basket. She fished around for some hats, scarves, and mittens for Blair to take back with him to his horrible lodgings.

Her hands stilled as she heard the creak of the front door. Iris stood, brushing the white gauzy curtains aside to peer out the window. Gabriel’s silver 1986 Mercedes-Benz was parked perfectly parallel to her car. She hadn’t even heard him pull down the driveway.

Heart somewhere in her throat, Iris dashed into the living room to find Gabriel standing silently in the doorway, his work satchel slung over one shoulder. Blair was still in the kitchen, hands wrapped around his elbows.

“Gabriel.” Iris rushed forward to take his bag. “I thought you were working late.”