I’d captured sleep in wisps and fluttering moments through the night, plagued by what she’d said. What I’d said. What I’d so willingly stepped into and what had been inevitable from the start. Acceptance set a quiet resolve upon me, a heaviness that settled in my chest, immovable. This had always been our fate.
I’d just been reckless enough to hope.
I’d been careless enough to fall in love with her.
I knew it now in hindsight, the path to this moment laid out plainly behind me. I’d realized it last night when she stepped out of the van. When she’d broken, so had I, and what had spilled out was my love for her. But there was nothing to catch it. So it’d slipped away, disappearing in the cracks, lost but for the remnants.
Those, I feared, would stain me for the rest of my days.
My alarm went off uselessly, and I found that heaviness weighed down my arms, my legs, my weary eyelids. But I slid out of bed, mindlessly pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, shoved my feet into my boots, and carried myself down the stairs. There was nothing else to do. Not with myself, not with my day, and not for Lila and me.
Lila. The pain on her face, the shock at discovering she’d been betrayed, was etched in my mind. In that moment, I could have burned that place to the ground. I would have scorched the earth to save her, to serve vengeance, to end it all.
But she wasn’t the only one who had been betrayed.
The words I’d spoken that very first night haunted me. It was true—the only danger in a rebound was to the reboundee. And here I thought I’d known what I was getting myself into.
Silly me.
The greenhouse awaited, the earthy musk comforting in its familiarity. Dad glanced at me from behind the dahlias with a flicker of concern in his eyes. But he said nothing, as was his custom, and for that, I was grateful. The last thing I wanted to do was regale him with the story of my dashed and foolish hope.
So I picked up my shovel and worked. The shuck of the spade against the wheelbarrow brought me back to center, hypnotized me into forgetting.
No, not forgetting, but burying.
I buried my wishes and the things I’d believed under the growing mound of mulch that would feed the flowers. Something beautiful would come out of the shit I piled on top—that was just science. But that didn’t make it stink any less.
It wasn’t long before I was sweating, reveling in the ache of my shoulders and arms. When I finished mulching, it wasn’t enough to have burned off my thoughts. I needed to exhaust every ounce of energy I had, burn it down until I was empty. So I made my way down to storage, deciding I’d rearrange the heaviest stuff I could find.
Bags of dirt and mulch and fertilizer were piled haphazardly along one wall, and that seemed the best place to start. Silently, I got to work, picking up bags and dumping them with a slap onto each other. I had just moved forty bags to the middle of the room so I could start organizing them when I heard someone on the stairs.
Luke smiled to cover his worry, but I saw it all the same.
“Need some help?” he asked, nodding to the pile.
“I got it,” I answered, picking up a bag of dirt and slinging it over my shoulder, giving him my back, though I knew better than to hope he’d actually take the hint and leave.
He was quiet for the length of time it took me to drop the first bag with a satisfying thump.
“What happened?”
I turned, avoiding his eyes as I grabbed another bag and headed off again. “It’s over.” I couldn’t bring myself to say her name.
Unfortunately, Luke didn’t have that problem. “Lila? But I thought—”
Thunk went the bag. “Yeah, me too. But I was wrong.”
“About what, specifically?”
“Everything. All of it. I told you our differences mattered, and I was right.”
Thunk went another bag. I hadn’t stopped moving, hadn’t looked my brother in the eye. As resolute as I was, I was still hurt. I was still heartsick and lovesick and just fucking sick.
“What happened last night?”
I contemplated picking up two bags at a time just to punish myself but stuck with one. It’d take longer this way, and I wanted to kill all the time I could. Briefly, I recounted the night, leaving it cool and uncolored by how I felt. Because how I felt was too much to speak. Betrayed and unworthy. Resolved and despairing. Foolish and misguided by my own instinct, my own heart.
Luke listened silently, his face drawing tighter, though not with anger. With concern. When I finished, a pause stretched between us.
“Kash, I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” Thunk. I swept the back of my hand across my forehead and grabbed another bag.
“God, what a mess. But I’ve got to say, I can’t imagine she meant to hurt you.”
“Of course she didn’t. Doesn’t change the fact that she did. But there are two important things to remember.” Slip went the bag off the pile. “One—I am a rebound, and I never should have expected to be anything more. And two—her life and mine will never, ever be compatible.”
Thunk.
“Have I ever told you that you assume a whole lot?”
At that, I paused, arms akimbo as I laid a hard look on my brother. “It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have jumped in so fast, should have kept some space between us, but I thought I knew better. Selfishly, I got myself all wrapped up in her, and she did the same. There hasn’t been a breath between us for weeks. How can I know without question that what she feels for me is real and not a byproduct of being ignored by that fucking asshole?” I dragged a hand through my damp hair. “And then there are those people—though people seems like too generous a word. They lied, manipulated her, set her up, humiliated her for some fucking ratings. For money. Those people are predators, and despite that, she lied to them, told them I meant nothing to her. Because despite it all, she cares enough about what they think to throw me under the bus the second she was under fire. I don’t want that life, Luke. I won’t be a part of that, no matter how much I love her.”
The word visibly jolted Luke, but I was still as stone on the outside. Inside, I split open like the earth in a quake.
He folded his arms, schooled his face. “She lied, which on its own is one of your cardinal sins. But that lie pressed your deepest bruise, your favorite lie—that you’re just a dumb gardener and good for nothing but a lay.”
“You might think it’s not a lie, but they believe it. The way they talk about me, like my profession offends them. As if who I am is so far beneath them, it doesn’t even warrant a second look. I’m as good as a hot bartender or UPS guy—disposable. Luke, I can’t even be fucking mad about it. I told her I was disposable then expected something different. It’s on me, not her.”
“Whatever happened to not giving up without a fight?”
“Believe me—if I thought there was a chance I could win, I would.”
“Since when do you only fight wars you know you’ll win?”
“Since today, I guess,” I snapped, turning on my heel for the pile.
He didn’t argue, just sighed.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” I muttered, hastily grabbing a bag.
“Someday, you’ll realize your worth, and on that day, I hope you put your pride aside.” He paused, weighing what he was about to say. “Did you know she bought an apartment?”