Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“I think he did something with Morgan and Forsyth.”
“What?”
“Forsyth told me he heard something around town he’d only shared with Morgan. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but it’s why that fight broke out between them. They’ve never had a fight since they came here two years ago, but suddenly Morgan’s telling his secrets in a small town. I don’t buy that.”
“It’s Simon,” he says. “But why?”
“Sometimes he likes to do that. Pit staff against each other. He’s done that plenty over the years. But I worry he’s going to get them to quit and then make me start training two new people all over again, which would be a fucking pain. Maybe he’ll wait until he’s finished with whatever he’s trying to do with you. I don’t know… Maybe he thinks when you leave, it’ll break my heart, and then he’ll snatch my workers out from under me, and I’ll really be fucked.”
“Break your heart?” he asks with a smirk. “Is that what my leaving would do?”
“It won’t be a happy day for me,” is as much as I’m willing to confess, and that makes a smile stretch across his face.
I study him as he takes another bite out of his sandwich, before I say, “I don’t see him as much anymore.”
“What?” he asks around a mouthful of bread and roast beef.
“When I look at you, I don’t see Kieran. It’s strange how the more time I spend with you, the less and less I see him. Makes me think of something Father once told Simon and me. That we didn’t even look like twins to him because he didn’t just know us by our faces, but by our personalities. Like that’s what he saw rather than just these faces. Obviously, that’s how I see myself, but Father was the only other person who could tell us apart like that. I finally understand what he meant. I wonder, even if you were identical to Kieran, if I’d be able to tell the two of you apart. I think I could.”
It’s been a gradual shift over time, but I was still nervous until the night when I opened my eyes, surprised to find it was still Jonas looking up at me. The reminders of Kieran were still there, but they didn’t, as I’d initially feared, take hold and drag my thoughts kicking and screaming back to the past. Now that I can see Jonas, when I’m with him, I catch myself inspecting every line and curve in his face, desperate to etch him into my memory so I’ll be able to keep these good moments even after he’s gone.
I’m sketching his face to memory now, when he glances around and says, “I guess I could get used to this weird spot.”
I chuckle.
Maybe he’ll never fully understand what I love about this place. Maybe he can’t know because he’s lived a different life. But my briar sanctuary has always been here for me, always kept me safe. And even if he doesn’t totally understand it, I’m glad I’ve had the chance to share it with him.
17
JONAS
Nell stacks pastries onto a tiered tray on the kitchen island, and without looking up, says, “Morning, Jonas.”
I don’t question it, since the first time I did, she said, “Don’t you know everyone has a distinct walk? I can hear you coming from two rooms away.”
“These are fresh,” she says, “so make sure to grab two or three for breakfast. I don’t have enough room in the freezer right now, so I won’t be able to save many.”
I laugh. “I figure I should’ve already put on fifteen pounds with how much you feed me.”
“With all that work you’re doing, you could use another fifteen pounds. While I’m in the middle of this, would you mind starting the coffee? Morning’s gotten away from me, and Mr. Simon will be up in half an hour.”
I happily offer my assistance, which becomes more of a task than I bargained for since I’ve never worked a coffee urn before, but she rattles off instructions that I try to store in my brain as fast as she gives them to me. As I’m rinsing out the urn, I’m thinking about yesterday…the date with Ryan, then spending the rest of the day in his bedroom. And I still have a spare day off.
As I’m grinding beans, I hear Nell say something, so I stop and ask her to repeat herself.
She’s carrying eggs from the fridge to the kitchen island as she says, “I was asking if you’ve been enjoying Hawthorne Heights.”
“It’s been really nice.” This earns a second glance from her because she must know it’s not trimming, tilling, or planting that’s made my stay so nice.
“Really? Interesting.” She sets the eggs on the island, then returns to the fridge. “I’ve noticed you’re very chatty with Mr. Ryan. He usually keeps to himself, but he seems so calm and at ease around you.”