“Because I don’t think it should come from me.”
16
Jamie
Maggie had invited me to Sunday service this morning, but I’d declined. She even tried to coerce me with the temptation of a town potluck afterward. I held my ground. Not because I have an inherent dislike for religion, but after our conversation last night, it was clear my presence already intrigued the whole town. Plus, ever since Big H brought up walking around the gardens, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. When I mentioned it to Maggie last night, she went into the office and returned a moment later with a map of the grounds. It wasmuchlarger than I’d expected and went way, way beyond what the eye could see.
Maggie and I ended up talking about anything and everything. She never brought up my sudden departure from Holden’s life again, and I was so grateful for that. Forher. It was close to midnight by the time we said our goodnights, and when I crawled into bed, I finally felt the weight of anguish and defeat lift from my shoulders.
Just a tad.
I slept.
And slept.
And by the time I woke up, showered, and dressed for the day, it was almost noon.
With the map in hand, I make my way around the large barn and greenhouse to the opening in the overgrown brush. Maggie had mentioned that there was only a hint of a trail visible, and if I followed that, Ishould, in theory, end up right where I started. According to the map, the gardens span over a hundred acres, including a creek, a pond, and approximately three miles of walking trails.
I take my time, basking in everything my eyes can see, my nose can smell. Even though they haven’t maintained the gardens for decades, nature is freaking amazing. That a place like this exists in the first place—it’s mind-blowing. I take so many pictures on my phone, of nothing in particular and everything at once. I slow down when I come across a four-wheeler, and when I inspect it closer, I notice the fresh tire marks and the heat radiating off of it. It’s recently been used, and since Big H and Maggie aren’t around, I can only assume who was using it. I look around, spotting a wooden door in the middle of a hedge so tall it’s at least twice my height. Up closer, I can see the unlatched padlock, and damn my curiosity because it gets the better of me. Chewing my lip, I hesitate a moment before pushing the door open. I don’t get far. A few inches at most, and then Holden is there,towering over me, blocking my view as he opens the door just wide enough to fit through it. He closes it behind him. Locks it. And then he glares down at me, his eyebrows pinched.
I ignore the sudden thumping of my heart and swallow my nerves.
The way he looks at me…
“I’m—” I can’t say I’m sorry, because I’m not. “Your dad said I could walk around.” I stupidly lift the map. “And Mags—”
“You saw the lock on the door, right?” he interrupts.
I lift my chin. Nod once. “I guess I didn’t realize you were hiding something. What is it? A grow op? Pretty sure marijuana is still illegal in North Carolina.”
His lips twist, his gaze lifting as if contemplating. “It’s not a grow farm, but that’s not a bad idea. Thanks for the tip, little one.” He steps closer, so he can whisper in my ear. “Want to be my accomplice?” And then he straightens again, patting the top of my head.
I swat his hand away, annoyed. “Fuck you.” I stand taller and attempt to look over the hedge as if it’s actually possible. “So, what is it then?”
He chuckles, not answering for a long time. Too long. When I look back at him, he’s watching me, and I almost,almost, forgive everything he’s said to me the past forty-eight hours. “Telling me to fuck myself? Classic Jamie. I was wondering when I’d get a glimpse of her.”
I stomp my foot. Like a brat. “Just tell me what it is.”
“It’s a secret!” he laughs out.
“A secret garden?” I almost sing, and my sudden smile is ridiculous. “Like the movie?”
I’m the only one still grinning as he shakes his head. “Not at all like the movie,” he states, his tone even. “It’s a garden that’s a secret. And I’d appreciate it if you kept it that way.”
Cold Holden is back, and it makes the hairs on my arms stand. “Right. Sorry for disturbing you.” I turn on my heels,prayinghe doesn’t follow me, and start back from where I came.
It’s clear he doesn’t want me around in places I don’t belong. The problem? I don’t have a choice right now. And the truth? I don’t belonganywhere.
A knot forms in my throat while my heart grows heavy, and I wish… I wish I had somewhere to run.
“You know what makes having you here so hard?” he calls out, stopping me in my tracks. I’ve made it to his four-wheeler. Ten steps. No more.
Reluctantly, I turn to him but don’t look into his eyes. “The fact that you hate me?”
“Hate’s a strong word,” he’s quick to say.
I press my eyes shut, preparing for what he has to say next. Then, when I open them again, I ask, “Then what?”