Page 37 of Her Wicker Guardian

She hands me the iPad. “I should go.”

“Already?”

“I’ve been here all day.”

Only then do I notice the empty bakery box, the abandoned coffee cups, and how far the afternoon sun has moved. Somehow, I’ve been marking time by Locke instead of hours. “Oh. Right.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I meant thank you.”

“I know.”

She glances toward Locke, then back at me. “You okay?”

Instead of answering right away, I look toward Locke. He’s watching me.

“I’m okay.”

Shannon studies me for another second, then lowers her voice. “Call me if you’re not.”

“I will.”

“And if anything weird happens.”

I look from the living wicker man beside me to the workshop door he repaired after being alive for roughly a day. “Shannon, I’m going to need you to narrow that down considerably.”

“Fair.”

She picks up her bag from the folding table. Locke turns toward her.

“Shannon.”

She stops. “Yes.”

He points toward the driveway. “Shannon go.”

Her face softens. “Yeah. Shannon goes.”

Then he points toward me. “Rachel stay.”

“Yes,” Shannon says. “Rachel stays.”

Her attention lingers on me for one extra beat. She doesn’t say anything.

I point toward her SUV. “Goodbye, Shannon.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Excellent.”

She hugs me quickly, then heads around the cottage toward her SUV. Locke watches until she disappears around the corner. A moment later the engine starts, and he listens until it fades down the road. Then he looks at me.

“Rachel stay.”

Shannon spent the entire day with him. She helped him learn words, handed him tools, stayed here when I left. He watched her go without taking a single step after her.

Now he’s asking about me.