Page 15 of Delicate Escape

I’d done more than a few errands for the rescue, mostly hauling donations of food, toys, and blankets for Lolli. She could get the most tight-fisted business to open their coffers for the cause.

“Sounds good.”

Rhodes paused for a moment, seeming to mull something over. “You’re a really good brother. You know that, right?”

Her words sliced, each one like the painful press of a blade. “Rho.”

“You are. What happened wasn’t your fault any more than it was mine or Anson’s.”

The burn came back, deeper this time. “I should’ve seen it.”

“No one did. And if you keep carrying around that misplaced guilt, it will drown you.”

I heard the fear in Rho’s voice, which only made the guilt worse. So, I did the only thing I could. I pulled her in for another hug. “Love you, Rho-Rho. Even though you currently smell like horse shit.”

She laughed, just like I hoped she would. That sound, plus knowing that she was still alive and breathing, and that Silas hadn’t won, would have to be good enough for now.

5

THEA

The late-afternoon sun blazed down,and I let it soak into my skin as I walked across the back of my property. The view of the never-ending forest never got old. My footsteps slowed as I really took in everything around me.

The hint of pine in the air was just a little different than every other pine tree scent—something unique to Sparrow Falls. Like the crystal-blue sky with its cotton candy clouds drifting by, and the epic vastness of the surrounding wilderness that made me feel so small.

It didn’t matter that I felt a little lonely at times, where I wished someone could truly know me. I was lucky as hell to be here and have this place.

An ache took root in my chest as I wished Nikki could see it. I’d sent a couple of Polaroids with my money one month, but photos didn’t do this place justice.

I tipped my face up to the sky, letting the sun bake my skin for a moment longer. This was enough. I had my garden, my books, Moose. I was safe. Reaching for more was just greedy.

Sighing, I headed for the greenhouse. When I lived in LA, I’d been a frequent shopper at the many farmers markets in and around my neighborhood. I loved inventing recipes from my finds there, but I’d had no idea what actually went into creating all that amazing produce.

I did now.

The corners of my mouth tipped up as the old greenhouse came into view. When I moved in, I was instantly taken with the space. The bottom fourth of each wall was constructed out of rich, aged wood. Above that was pure glass.

A few of the panes had been cracked or smashed, but with a little research and elbow grease, I’d replaced each one. Learning how to keep plants alive had been a harder endeavor. I’d read books and articles at the library and done a series of trial-and-error experiments. But almost two years later, I had it down.

I adjusted the large wicker basket on my arm and opened the door with my other hand. The moment I stepped inside, thicker air hit me, the kind that kept all the plants happy. I set the basket on the bench in the middle of the space.

Something about tending to the fruits and veggies soothed me. Creating something positive, nurturing it, and helping it grow had healed something in me. The same way fostering tiny kittens did. It was as if caring for them knitted something back together in me.

I got to work watering, weeding, and pruning. As I did, I surveyed what I needed to harvest. Leeks, summer squash, the first tiny strawberries. The avocado tree I’d planted was now pushing against the glass at the top of the greenhouse. I’d have to do something about that soon. And I knew the corn I’d planted just outside had a few ears ready to go.

My mind was already whirling with what to make. Summer squash and corn salad with roasted leeks for flavor. Maybe something with the strawberries for dessert. Sutton would have a better idea about that than I would. Even though I’d been working with her for months, I still hadn’t mastered that art.

I moved quickly through the space, picking what I’d need for theevening’s meal. I stopped at a catnip plant in the corner and grinned. Breaking off a sprig, I stuck it into my basket and headed for the door.

Heading across the back of the property, I climbed the steps of the back deck that had clearly been added later in the small cabin’s life. I’d eat out here tonight. I didn’t have a table, but I could easily eat on the chaise lounge. And I’d bring Moose out on his leash so he could get some outside time.

I tugged my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the specialty deadbolt on the back door. As I stepped inside, Moose greeted me with a warbled meow. I grinned and moved to scratch behind his ears. His little nose was already twitching.

“Give me a second, and I’ll bring you your drug of choice.”

He answered with the chattering protest that always made me laugh. I hurried into the kitchen, dumped my basket, and plucked out the catnip. My gaze caught on the clock, and I cursed. Rhodes would be here at any moment.

I quickly crossed to Moose with the catnip sprig. He dropped to his back paws like a meerkat, his front paws hooking around my hand and jerking it to his mouth.

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