Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“No. I’ll carry you.”
He lifts me as if I’m light as a rose petal. The night air is bracing on my bare face, but the coat covers me past my feet. Frosted grass crunches under Logan’s shoes as he carries me down the hill. The castle looms behind us, darkly beautiful bathed in moonlight. Beside us, the labyrinth is a black, leafy wall.
But that’s not where Logan is taking me. Moonlight glints off a structure ahead. I’m not wearing my contacts or glasses so it takes me a moment to recognize the sheen of glass.
“A greenhouse,” I breathe, delighted.
When he opens the door, warm air embraces me, along with the scent of jasmine and vanilla. Logan sets me down. The moonlight is enough to guide my path through the dark rows. I can pick out the groups of plant by scent. Herbs, orchids, a few vegetables, and finally the last rows dedicated to hybrid after hybrid of—
“Roses.” I swallow a stone that’s suddenly formed in my throat. “These are my mother’s.”
I look to Logan and he doesn’t deny it.
My eyes go back to the roses. “You brought them from Thornhill.” I delicately touch a prickly leaf.
“I wanted them close,” he says. “Easier to care for.”
“My father told me he wouldn’t let my mother’s garden go, that he’d hire someone to keep it up. That the hybrids she was working on would be looked after, kept alive until I had time to return and continue her work.” But he didn’t. He sold Thornhill. It was Logan who cherished these roses and kept them thriving.
“Dad lied to me. About this. About everything.” I turn and walk down the rows. Logan follows, a giant shadow dogging my steps. But I’m grateful for his presence. His warmth.
“Thornhill was promised to me, did you know that? I wanted to live there, convert one of the greenhouses to a lab. Dad convinced me to move into the city. Now I know why.” I let out a hollow laugh.
I stop at the edge of the greenhouse and press my face to the cold glass. I won’t cry. The hurt is so constant, it’s seeped into my bones. It’s part of my blood.
My father has always been like this. Since the day I was born, he made it clear that I mattered less than the stem cells I could give my ailing mother and the accolades I would win in his name. I’ve carried that pain and rejection every day of my life. Take it away and I wouldn’t be Daphne.
Logan
The pain in Daphne’s voice stabs me. A tear beads in her lashes and she blinks it away.
“My father only cared about what I could give him. Never about me. I never mattered to him.”
Finally, she sees the truth about her shit dad. There’s no satisfaction in the fact, though, because I can see how much she’s hurting. I reach out to touch her, but stop with my hand hovering in the air. I don’t want to add to her pain.
Then she turns and sees my hand, smiles, and reaches up to clasp it herself. “I did matter to my mother. But I was her donor, you know. She loved me, she did, but our time together was colored by the disease. I never met anyone who cared about me for me...until I met you.”
She looks up at me and I almost back away from her adoring smile. Her trust hits me like a blow.
“Everything’s changing,” she murmurs. “I’m changing. But I didn’t do it fast enough, did I? As soon as I walked back into Belladonna, I turned into the old Daphne. A pushover, pleasing everyone but herself.”
I start to make a noise and she goes on tiptoe to press two fingers to my lips.
“I’m not making excuses,” she says quickly. “Everything that happened, I allowed it. But please, let me say this. I never got to properly say it when you found me that day at Mom’s grave. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
I swallow hard at her apology, not sure how I feel, but she’s not done.
“Adam steamrolled over me and I let him. I was a grown woman but I let him and fear of the board make me a doormat just like I always was for my father my whole life. And that’s my fault.”
She releases me and turns away.
“Anyway, I just wanted to finally say it out loud. I’m sorry I immediately fell back in old patterns. But the old mold doesn’t fit anymore. In a way, it never did. I feel stronger now. I didn’t know the world could be this…big. That my life could be so full of color. I feel like I’m starting to become the woman I was always supposed to be.” Her voice grows stronger as she moves through the greenhouse. I catch up to her at the door. Her head’s tipped back and the moonlight bathes her face. “And that’s all because of you.” The last words come out as a whisper but I hear them all the same.