Page 13 of The Silencer

“Alright, right this way,” Casey says around another mouthful of cookie.

We trail after him, our arms linked once more. I glance over at Angel and swipe a cookie crumb from the corner of his pink lips.

“Oh shoot, did I have something lingering there?” he asks with a slight blush.

“Just a crumb. You still looked cute with it, though.”

He sighs and then rubs at his face. “It doesn’t matter. No one’s here to see me anyways. I could have a cookie head and it wouldn’t matter.”

“I mean, a cookie head would be amazing. Everyone would want a bite.”

He giggles and nods. “They would. Maybe then someone would want to eat my face.”

I nudge him and then wince when I hit him with my bruised side. I need to remember that I’m still sore. This could have been so much worse. I could be completely bedridden, or brain dead.

“Be careful with yourself. My dad will be so upset if you get hurt again.”

“Angel,” I begin with a sigh. “Your dad doesn’t even notice I’m alive most of the time.”

My friend side-eyes me and then flicks at my nose. “You are so cluelessly adorable.”

I don’t know what that means, and don’t have a chance to ask when Angel gasps and skips off, leaving me behind. “Oh my god, they’re in bloom, Tatum!”

He cups some kind of lily in his hand like a princess and leans down, inhaling it. When he stands up and turns toward me, his nose is yellow.

I gesture to my face, but he just ignores me, frolicking over to the next plant.

“Casey! They’re in bloom! Look at them! I need sheers. I’m going to make a bouquet.”

Casey pulls the radio from his jacket and says something into it before turning toward me and shrugging.

I shrug back and make my way to a small stone bench and lower my sore ass onto it. One of those dickheads got me right in the ass cheek. And I’m no newb to a sore ass. Just usually, it’s more enjoyable than that night.

I watch as Angel prances from one flower to the next, and I can’t help the small smile that pulls my lips up. He’s told me how important this space is. This garden was his mother’s, her pride and joy. When she died, Anthony preserved it to keep her memory alive.

Angel keeps her memory alive by helping maintain it.

I could do this too. The Secret Garden was one of my favorite books growing up.

If this was my space, I’d add to it. I’d make it even more colorful. I’d have a space built with a secret door and a swing. I’d make it positively magical.

But then again, no one asked me for my opinion. This isn’t my space. This is Angel’s and his mother’s, and I won’t overstep.

Normally, I’m fine with blurting shit out, but not this time. This place is almost sacred. Any changes to it would be met with disapproval.

A moment later, an older man appears with garden sheers and a wooden basket. I’ve never seen him before, but he could be one of the gardeners. I’m sure that Anthony has a few staffed full-time to take care of the expansive property.

“Here you go,” the man says to Casey before turning around and disappearing from view.

“Oh my god! Look at this one, Tatum!” Angel says with a grin a few minutes later, reappearing from between two large bushes. He holds out a pink bushy flower to me. “It’s a peony! I planted it last year and they bloomed. They’re going to look so good in an arrangement.”

I let out a small laugh. “You should do this for a living.”

“If only,” he says with a dreamy sigh and then moves away again, within sight but also far enough away. He’s bending over, his hands gently pulling buds up for inspection and snipping some off. He’s lost in his own world, a world of colors and scents. A world totally his own.

“We’ll be a while,” Casey says with a smirk. “That kid could be out here all day.”

“Yeah,” I say, standing up and stretching slightly. “Maybe I should go explore for a bit.”

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