“Oh, it’s okay, I wouldn’t if I were you. I was given plenty. It’s just that Kellen was given even more, and before you start saying how he paid for it all, don’t bother. We were all treated the same, if you understand me.” Hugh’s smile sours but doesn’t fade away. “Still, I believe him when he says he’ll kill me if I hurt you.”
“Is this your way of apologizing for ransacking my cottage?”
“No, no, not at all. That was a lot of fun, actually. I did that all myself and I’ll admit, it was extremely cathartic.” He laughs and puffs on the cigar. “No, I’m here to tell you that I won’t hurt you. Not physically anyway, but I will make your life hell. I’ll dig up your precious plants. I’ll pour salt in the soil. I’ll spray weed killer on everything you love until it all shrivels and dies. I’ll turn this place into a wasteland unless you start doing the right thing. Until you do what I say.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. I laugh, shaking my head, because it’s finally come to this. The garden is the only thing I have left in the entire world, no friends, no family, nobody. My mom died when I was twelve and my dad moved to Florida the year after I got clean to be with his new girlfriend and I’m still stuck here, all alone, and now Hugh wants to take away everything that’s left.
I knew it’d happen. I thought it might be Kellen, but no, I was wrong.
It’s Hugh.
“Excuse me,” I say, shaking my head and grinning at the pure cosmic horror that is my life. I toss the spade aside and head toward the house.
“Where are you going?” He sounds annoyed and his footsteps follow me.
I walk faster. “I’m going inside.” I practically jog to the back door and he tails me the whole time, but he doesn’t come in. He stands on the back patio and stares at me through the window as I walk down the halls until I find Mrs. Hayle’s nurse, Eunika, coming down the steps with a laundry basket under one arm.
“Sorry to bother you, but do you know where Kellen is?”
Eunika grunts once. “With his mother in her room.”
“Thank you.”
“I wouldn’t disturb them.”
“It’s important. I won’t bother her, I promise.”
Eunika shrugs as if it’s no concern of hers and she continues on past me.
I hurry up the steps and to the master bedroom. I hesitate outside the door before I knock and only go inside once I hear Kellen call out.
The room smells like antiseptic and flowers. It’s well-lit and spacious with a sitting area on the right and an art station on the left. Straight ahead is a massive bed with Kellen sitting in a chair beside it.
Mrs. Hayle looks shrunken and lost in the covers. She’s sitting up, propped by pillows, wearing a navy-blue nightdress and Kellen’s helping her eat soup while they watch a Three Stooges movie on an old TV sitting on a cart at the foot of the bed. Her hand trembles, but he’s so careful and is barely looking over at me as she takes a bite. I stare at her and at him and suddenly everything I wanted to say disappears.
I was going to tell him I want out. I was going to tell him that I’d rather quit and leave Phoenix entirely than stay and let him and Hugh rip everything I love to shreds. They can fight between themselves and maybe one day, when it’s over, I can come back to this place I love so much. There are other gardens I can tend. There are more plants to dig and cut and love. But in the meantime, he can fuck himself, Hugh can fuck himself, and I’m gone.
Instead, Kellen guides his mother’s spoon to her mouth, dabs the corner of her lips gently with a napkin, and he smiles at her in the most wonderfully loving way I can imagine. He’s smiling, really smiling, not a cocky grin, not an infuriating smirk, but a gentle smile, and his mother smiles back.
But then he turns to me and that smile turns sour.
“I thought you were Eunika,” he says.
“She’s doing laundry,” I answer stupidly, all my resolve completely lost.
“What are you doing here?” His tone sharpens as he puts down his mother’s spoon and moves her tray from her lap. She’s watching the TV, enraptured, and doesn’t seem to notice.
“Sorry, I just— I wanted to—” I’m stuttering and backing away and I don’t know why, but Kellen gets to his feet, looking angry. He steps toward me, face flushed.
“Get the fuck out,” he says, pointing at the door. “Get out, Tara!”
I turn and run. I get the hell out of there, not thinking, so confused by his reaction and not sure what to think. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I slam the door behind me and hurry down the hall, heart racing like I just witnessed a murder, and I have to lean against the wall to catch my breath.
He stared at me like I was a stranger and he wanted to rip my eyeballs out and squash them in his fist like grapes. It was terrifying—I knew Kellen was scary, but I’d never seen that side of him before.
The killer that runs the streets.
As I compose myself, the door to the bedroom opens and Kellen storms out. He looks more in control, but his face is serious, almost stern, and when he spots me, he strides over. I stand up straight, about to turn and run, but he comes right up to me. When I put my hand out to try to stop him, he grabs my wrist and twists it up behind my head and grips my throat with his other fist.