Page 41 of A Secret In The Garden

There was a low rumble like distant thunder, and the lights flickered again, coming back on. It felt like the house was exploding in anger.

“Jasper!” I held on to him, afraid of what would happen next.

“It’s okay; you’re okay,” he said, holding on to me tightly. “It must be an earthquake or something.”

“I don’t think that was an earthquake,” I mumbled into his warm chest, my eyes tightened shut as the house seemed to settle.

I knew exactly what it had been, and it most definitely had not been an earthquake.

It was a very upset Hester.

Chapter 15

Jasper

I sat at my desk, wasting yet another day going back and forth between regret and relief that I had been so open with Eliza. Mostly regret. I should have had her sign an NDA. I should have kept my mouth shut.

I should have told her everything.

After she had left to go work in the conservatory yesterday, I sat and stared at my desk, wondering how it all had happened. I dissected every interaction we’d had since she’d stepped into my office that first day, a month ago, desperate and determined, how her eyes glowed with hope when I’d told her she could work on the garden.

I couldn’t pinpoint the conversation or even the day it had happened, but I realized that over the course of the last month, I’d started to care for Eliza Arnold. I’d let her weasel her way in, in a way that was and always had been off-limits. I had started to give her little crumbs of myself, something I didn’t want to do but hadn’t realized I was even doing until the other day. I wanted to take, not give. I’d already given so much of myself; there wasn’t that much left.

I’d never dealt with this before. Aside from Sowerby, I had never been comfortable opening up to anyone like I had with her.

It scared me nearly as much as when I’d been left to fend for myself as a kid. Except then, I’d had no idea the hardships that I had been about to face; now I did. She needed to go.

I couldn’t be with her. And god, did I want to be with her. She had to leave.

Not only to avoid getting hurt, but also because she was the one who would inevitably be hurt, and I didn’t like that thought.

Things were already too far out of my control.

The other night at dinner, it had taken every single ounce of my willpower not to crack John’s head against a wall when I saw him dragging his eyes over Eliza’s body. When she had laughed at his jokes, I’d wanted to stab him in the throat—that was my laugh, the laugh that had brought me the first taste of joy in decades. I felt possessive and primal over her and her beautiful laugh, and I wasn’t going to let him take it away from me.

Anyone could tell within the first five minutes of meeting her that she was different, special. It was obvious there were demons in her past—demons that wouldn’t set her free. Eliza was innocent and naive but also strong and determined, all in a way that told me she’d been through some really difficult things. It was probably why I felt so comfortable with her. Our traumas had broken us so deeply that we were able to see each other through our cracks.

She was so sheltered; she had never had salmon or wine before. What else hadn’t she done? What other food or drinks had she not been allowed to try and wanted to? I liked the idea that I could be the one who let her out of her cage, helped her experience life. I never shied away from a fight in my life; I thought it’d be nice to fight demons other than my own for once.

The deal with JV Plastics falling through had cost Blackwood Industries about four million dollars. I’d have done it all over again just to keep her from laughing with him anymore. Except, if I had to do it all over again after seeing him touching her in the conservatory, I thought I would have done something much worse with the shotgun than just destroy the contract, which I never actually got to do, since we stopped shooting at that point.

My head sat uncomfortably heavy in my hands. I was so tired. I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since Eliza had arrived at the manor. The nightmares had returned, the ones where I saw my mother. I only had them when I stayed at the manor—another reason why I hated it. I wasn’t sure why I kept it. I didn’t want to, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t seem to let it go. It was like there was some outside force keeping me here, something that tied me to the old wood floors that creaked in the night, the maze of familiar hallways and rooms that reminded me of a time before there were so many issues and when everything was okay—when I was okay. It was like a pathetic part of my soul was forever chained to the manor, secretly hoping my parents would finally come back and get me.

There was a knock on the office’s heavy wood door. It was Sowerby; I could tell by the double knock. I was relieved to get a few minutes away from my warring thoughts.

“Come forth, Evil Alfred.”

The well-dressed man stepped into my office, his brown button-up sweater with leather patches and plaid newsboy hat matching perfectly with the scowl on his antiquated face.

“If you don’t stop calling me that, I’m going to start calling you ‘Robin.’” He sat down in the chair across from me. His gaze caught on the unusual arrangement of chairs in my office, with the odd guest chair from the opposite side of my desk still placed next to mine, from Eliza sitting there the day before. I had pushed it off to the side yesterday so I could work, but I hadn’t returned it to the other side yet. She had been such a comforting presence when I’d opened up to her. I hadn’t felt judged or as guilt-stricken as I’d anticipated. What shocked me more than anything was how comfortable it had felt to talk to her. I had been so confused when she moved closer to me and placed her small hand on my thigh. I had expected her to pepper me with questions and accusations, but instead, she had just sat and listened. It was such a foreign experience to feel any amount of support with anything to do with the subject of my parents that I found myself thinking of the soft comforting words and touches every time I looked at the empty chair. I hadn’t been ready to move it back and forget about it all quite yet.

“There’s a card for you and Katya in the kitchen; we left it for you yesterday.” I cleared my throat. “Eliza and I made it.” I threw the words out and watched his eyes. They widened and he froze for half a second before relaxing, realizing his secret was out. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. God, I sounded so whiny and childish.

A long sigh came from so deep in his chest cavity that he must have been holding it in for years. He met my eyes with a concerned, paternal look.

“Because it just sort of happened that one day we realized we were in love. I didn’t change, she didn’t change, and neither of us wanted anything else to change. We didn’t want you to feel any type of discomfort when you were here. I hope you know that I wasn’t concealing it to be secretive. I just know how little you enjoy change…or feelings of any sort.” His mouth thinned in a mischievous line. “And you know Katya. She didn’t want to make a fuss of it.” He gave a low snort. “She would do anything for you, and that likely includes giving me up if you were uncomfortable with it all, so I do hope that you keep a level head about this. I’d hate to have to tell her how rich I really am just to keep her with me.” His eyes were full of amusement.

I leaned back in my chair and stretched, swiveling it from side to side restlessly. “I wouldn’t have cared, you know.”