Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” she agreed, but didn’t sound remotely convinced. “I’ll be right back. You sweep,” I said, figuring she needed an outlet.
“Right. Yeah. Okay.”
When I made my way out, she was reaching for the broom. By the time I came back with four bags of potting soil, she had most of the pottery and dirt in the trash and all the poor plants spread across the table.
She was just placing the broom against the wall when I noticed a shadow darkening her wrist. Like she’d been grabbed, maybe dragged.
I hadn’t seen that happen. But maybe it happened when Marco had moved inside the shop but before they got to the door.
My gut twisted, and I had to fight the urge to turn around, get back to my car, chase down Marco, and put a bullet between his fucking eyes.
Instead, I took a deep breath and gently placed down the bags.
“Alright. Show me what to do,” I demanded.
We fell into a rhythm then, moving from one plant to the next. After the first three, Rue stopped inspecting my plants, which felt like a win.
It took the better part of two hours, and by the time we were done, there was dirt caked under my nails and an ache between my shoulder blades from leaning over the table.
It wasn’t until we were fully done that Rue’s head lifted, and I got a full view of her face for the first time since she’d burst into tears.
She looked rough.
Her cheeks were raw from her tears. Her eyelids were puffy, the whites of her eyes red.
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you should come back to my place, we order some pizza or Chinese, and we unwind for a bit. I don’t think you should be alone. At least for a little bit.”
“You don’t have to—”
“If I want to?” I cut her off.
“Then… I could go for Chinese.”
“Okay. Let’s wash up then you can follow me to my place. You can check on my plant care while you’re there.”
With that, I helped her get a reluctant Ernest into her backseat, then ran down the road to my borrowed car, quickly throwing all evidence of my spying into the glovebox, then driving to the lot and leading her back to my neighborhood.
Just as I cut the engine, a text came through from Huck.
Like he somehow knew that shit had just gotten interesting.
I texted him back, telling him I’d have some updates for him in the morning. Then I turned off my phone and climbed out of the car.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rue
I was in a bit of a daze after sobbing out all the fear and anxiety I’d been feeling leading up to—and during—the delivery.
I cleaned up and repotted on autopilot, not really focusing too much on what I was doing, just letting my body do what needed to be done while my mind completely shut down.
When we finished, it was like all my thoughts came back at once, each of them tripping over one another as they tried to get noticed.
It was the only explanation for why I’d agreed to go to Kylo’s house.
Because I knew I was too vulnerable to be around anyone right then. What if I slipped up on my story? If I just blurted it all out?
“I can do this,” I told myself as I pulled up behind Kylo’s car in his charming neighborhood.
Kylo’s townhouse curb appeal left a bit to be desired, but he apparently only lived here part-time, so I guess I couldn’t be too judgmental of him not wanting a sprawling garden to maintain if he wasn’t around all the time.
“You have to promise not to be too hard on me,” Kylo said after I coaxed Ernest out of the backseat.
“Hard on you for what?” I asked, grabbing my purse and wondering if I had some eye drops in there anywhere. They felt oddly dry after all that crying.
“The state of the place. I’m indecisive as fuck when it comes to paint, something I’m just now learning about myself.”
“I went through six different shades of yellow before I settled on one. I get it.” Kylo led me into a small, rounded foyer with three doors.
“Bathroom,” he explained, waving to the left. “Mechanical room, garage. This area is especially bleak,” he said as I looked around.
“It just needs some art. Maybe a mail table. And these windows next to the door would be enough for a ZZ or snake plant.”
“Another excuse to drop into the shop,” he said, flicking on lights as we moved further into the house. “So, quick tour: kitchen, dining, living.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, spotting the wall where he’d swatched eight different paints. But not different shades of one color. Oh, no. He’d swatched gray, blue, taupe, a burnt orange, sage green, an off-white, and greige.
“Yeah, so far I’ve only ruled out the blue.”