Renata Santos doesn't expect her heart to flutter when she catches a boy stealing flowers out of her backyard. But as she unravels his reputation, she realizes puppy-eyed delinquent Isaac Marshall may just be the sunshine she needs to turn her life...
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A R B U T U S
[epigaea repens] ➳ hospitality.
MOST MORNINGS, WAKING UP was skidding out of a dream. A little bumpy and full of reluctance, but a safe ride nonetheless.
Some mornings, though, waking up was tearing out of a nightmare, friction singing my skin as I wrestled and slipped and fell.
This was one of those mornings.
Three knocks on the front door jolted me into the fabric of reality. I blinked at the ceiling, harsh air scraping out of my lungs, heartbeats like boulders dropped onto my chest. A jagged pain pierced the ball of my shoulder, holding me down when I tried to wipe my cheeks.
I knew it wasn't real. But hot tears tore down my face as I wrapped the comforter around me, the world spinning sideways until everything slowed to a pause.
According to my clock, it was only 6:50, which meant my father was still home along with whoever had just entered our living room. When I finally came to my senses, I climbed out of bed with a sigh, still heavy as though I'd been drugged.
The first thing I did was look out the window. Grey clouds marred the skyline, and their shadows drenched the grass before even their rain could. There wasn't a flower-thieving boy in sight.
"Good," I muttered. I hadn't wanted him to see me cry.
I descended the stairs a few minutes later. Doug Merritt was on our couch, which instantly embarrassed me. Though he was the same age as my parents, the only thing lacking about his life was his hair. His bald head was as shiny as the expensive watch on his wrist.
"Morning, Ren," he greeted with a wave. From the recliner, my father nodded expectantly at me.
"Morning, Doug," I returned, resisting the urge to call him Mr. Merritt. He'd given me grief about that during our first month in town. "Hey, Dad. Hi, Jackie."
Doug's daughter occupied half of the loveseat, her long hair flaring red under the ceiling light. "Hi."
I wasn't friends with Jackie Merritt. She was a year younger than me, but the awkwardness of the situation was the deal breaker, not her age. Like the rest of her family, she knew exactly why we had moved to Newberry. I figured she'd never tell, but that didn't stop humiliation from flooding my gut.
Dad broke in. "Doug and Jackie wanted to ask you for a favour, Ren," he said, the tilt of his head suggesting that I was to agree. "It's a good thing you're up."
I gulped. Considering all that the Merritts had done for us, I had always known they would someday come for their recompense — but I didn't think that day would be today.
Doug beamed, then nudged his daughter firmly. "Go on."
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Cheeks blossoming to match her hair, Jackie started, "We know you've been growing flowers. You know, to help with your... coping, and stuff."
