Page 163 of Rough Around the Hedges

On the other hand, he looked as awful as I did. His hair wasn’t styled as perfectly as usual. It was mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it fifty times this morning. The usual brightness that made his blue eyes so enrapturing had dulled, and that went as far as the light shadows under his eyes.

God only knew why he looked so terrible.

He’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. It tasted like everything I hated—salty tears, longing, and heartbreak. “Your Grace.”

He winced. “Rose—”

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Oliver closed his eyes. Maybe it was the coldness of my tone, or maybe it was that he could feel just how much I hated him right now, but he looked almost ashamed to even be standing in front of me.

“No? Then if you’ll excuse me, I’m a bit busy.” I walked over to the courgettes and began searching for any other stragglers.

“Rose, we need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

He unlatched the gate and let himself in, and I jumped back from the vegetable bed, holding my snips close to me, the sharp end pointed in his direction.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw them, and Isa opened her mouth. Susan shook her head at her, and my best friend stilled, pressing her lips together in a flat line.

What was that?

Did they know he was coming?

Was there a conspiracy afoot? Conspiracies were banned unless I was the one conspiring.

Oliver held out a white envelope. “This will explain everything.”

“There isn’t a single explanation I want from you,” I replied. “We have nothing more to say to each other, so please leave.”

“Rose—”

“For the next three weeks and four days, I am still a rent-paying tenant of this plot. While you may come for animpromptu inspection, it is still mine, and if I ask you to leave, you must leave,” I said tightly, turning away from him.

He reached out, grabbing my wrist. “Will you just—”

“No!” I snatched my arm out of his hand and ran to my shed. I slammed the door behind me and locked it, covering my ears with my hands.

What could he explain?

What could he possibly say that would make my heart stop hurting?

I didn’t even want to hear his voice right now, because every word he spoke tugged at a deep part of me.

A part that wanted to hear him out.

That stupid, idiotic part of me that wanted to trust him.

“Rose, for God’s sake.” He thumped the door. “Do I have to shout through the door at you?”

“No, because I’m not listening!” I shouted back. “Go away! Go away, you big, stupid, potato!”

“Please.” He hit the door twice, followed by a third thump that sounded suspiciously like his head. “Don’t make me talk through the door at you. It’s not what you think.”

Not what I think?

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