Chapter 6 #2
She kisses my cheek, her sunscreen-sweet scent brushing against me as she straightens her purse on her shoulder. “Think about going anyway. Sun and saltwater might be exactly what you need.”
Then she flutters out the door in a rush of floral print and mild chaos, leaving me alone in the quiet shop, the silence settling around me. Now I have to figure out the logistics of this trip by myself. Great.
By the time the sun sets, I’m still bothered by all of this. I drive out to the cottage to water everything and do some weeding, hoping a little dirt therapy will calm me down and help me figure out what to do next.
But when I pull into the drive, I freeze. My breath catches, sharp and painful. My mouth falls open before I can stop it. Half the plants are gone.
Rows of empty spaces stare back at me from the porch, bare wood where my ferns should be spilling over the sides, where my rosemary and chamomile and sage should be catching the morning light. The pots that remain look lonely and wrong, like teeth missing from a smile.
I sit there, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ache.
A hot rush of panic surges through me, rising fast into my throat.
My chest tightens, that horrible swooping feeling you get when you are about to lose something you cannot replace.
My mind races through worst case scenarios so quickly it feels like falling.
What if Sammy did this. Or his cousin. What if they threw everything away just to hurt me.
These plants are not decorations. They are my livelihood.
They are hours of tending, pruning, watering, talking to them like they know my secrets.
They are my business, my craft, the heartbeat of Salt & Root.
I grow half of my herbs here. I know every single leaf, every bloom, every stubborn stem that refuses to cooperate.
The thought of them uprooted and tossed into a dumpster makes my stomach twist violently.
The porch looks wrong without them. Barren and violated. Like someone walked into my life and ripped out pieces without asking.
My breath shakes as I fumble for my phone, my fingers clumsy. I don’t even think, I just dial, pulse thudding in my ears, bracing myself for the worst news imaginable.
Because losing these plants would not just hurt my business. It would hurt me. Right down to the roots.
Someone took my plants.
It takes him less than a minute to reply.
Finn: They’re at the house in your new greenhouse. Surprise!
I stare at the screen. What house? And what greenhouse? I’m so confused.
What?
No reply.
I spin the truck around and head toward his place.
When I turn down his drive, the headlights sweep across the familiar chaos of his truck, building materials in his garage, and tools.
But there’s something new in the backyard.
A large structure with panels glinting in the evening light, and Remy, Finn, and Tate moving plants and stacking them around the greenhouse that is new.
I park, step out, and just stand there in disbelief. I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now.
Remy is hauling a tray of seedlings into the greenhouse onto a folding table.
Tate’s unloading my containers, spacing them around the property like it’s a full-blown botanical takeover.
And right in the middle of it all, Finn’s setting up a frame of wood and Plexiglas, sleeves rolled, shoulders broad, hair sticking up from sweat.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “What did you do, Finn?”
Finn looks up and waves. “Hey, Row.”
Remy leans in and says to me, “Don’t yell at him too hard. None of us like Briggs and his shady slum lord cousin. We wanted to help.”
Tate sets down a planter and strides over, wrapping me in a hug. “You know we’ve always got your back.”
My throat tightens. “You guys didn’t have to—”
Finn walks over, taking off his gloves and slides them in the loop on his tool belt. “Yes, we did. You’d never ask for help, and we wanted to help you. You have plenty of space to grow everything here. Mom heard about what happened from Lilith and she called us.”
“I can’t believe you did all this.” My voice comes out soft, shaky.
He smiles, slow and warm. “You’ve been keeping that old cottage going on pure magic. You deserve a space that doesn’t leak and have copious amounts of toxic mold.”
He’s right. I haven’t been able to stay out there for a long time because the structure became inhabitable. But it was a good place to grow everything, so I kept it going.
I look around, taking it in. The new greenhouse sits on a flat stretch of his back yard, framed with reclaimed wood and panels that catch the last of the light. My plant babies are scattered around the greenhouse, and their leaves shimmer in the sunset and it’s perfect.
I whisper in awe, “I can’t believe you did all this.”
“It’ll be fine,” he says. “But now you don’t have to worry about Mark or Sammy. And all your plants are close to the shop. You can pop in any time, and no one will bother them.”
I shake my head, still stunned. “You can’t just build me a greenhouse, Finn.”
He steps closer, voice low in a challenge. “I can if I want to.”
My breath catches. His hand brushes a bit of dirt from my arm, his fingers slow and careful. The air between us hums, heavy and charged.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He smiles, eyes soft. “You’re welcome.”
I look up at him, and the world narrows to the space between us. The scent of soil and the feeling of something electric between us. His hand lingers on my arm, warm and steady, and for a moment I think he might kiss me.
But instead, he takes a step back and says, “Come on. Let’s get another load in before it gets too dark. We should have everything out of there by tonight. Maybe a few loads in the morning if we need to.”
My pulse is still hammering as I follow him to his truck.
And even as the stars come out, all I can think is that my heart might already belong to a man who builds things, especially things I didn’t know I needed. And this makes all the feelings I try to shove down really hard. Because Finn is completely taking over my heart.