Chapter 19
Sammy
The next day, I knelt in the herb garden with my scissors, trimming back the overgrown basil while trying not to watch Gavrel work twenty feet away.
He’d been at it since dawn, shaping the stone border with his bare hands. The scraping sound of stone on stone filled the morning air, mechanical and rhythmic. No variation. No pauses.
His wings stayed folded tight against his back, not the relaxed drape I’d gotten used to. His tail lay completely still on the grass behind him, without a single twitch or swish.
I clipped another stem, my attention divided between the basil and trying to figure out what had changed.
He hadn’t come to my room last night. I’d waited, listening for his footsteps in the hall, but he’d never appeared. When I’d finally checked after midnight, his door had been closed and his lights off.
This morning at breakfast, he’d been polite. Helped with the dishes. Made conversation with Corey about school. But he hadn’t looked at me. His gaze had slid past my face like I was part of the furniture.
I moved to the dill, working automatically while my brain spun in circles.
Maybe he’d realized we were a mistake. He was a sophisticated artist from France, getting tangled up with a single mom who lived in someone else’s house and stretched her grocery budget every week.
The temporary crisis of Virginia had given him a role to play. Now that we’d handled the meeting, established boundaries, and created a plan, he didn’t need to be involved anymore.
He was already planning his exit. Last night he was gone for many hours, probably at his new house. I’d bet anything he’d tell me he had more work to do there tonight.
He was mentally moving out before he physically left.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing back the burn behind them.
The dill didn’t care about my relationship drama. I had a job to do.
I gathered the trimmings and stood. Gavrel’s water bottle sat on its side on the retaining wall near where he worked.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I dumped the refuse and headed inside, where I filled the bottle in the kitchen. I brought it out to where he knelt, fitting stones together.
“You should hydrate,” I said, holding it out.
He looked up. Our eyes met for half a second before his gaze dropped to the bottle.
“Thank you.” He took it without letting our fingers touch.
The careful distance hit me hard. Usually he found excuses for contact. A brush of fingers. His tail curling around my ankle. His wing extending to shelter me from sun or wind.
Now he kept a gap between us, like I carried something contagious.
“Looks good,” I said, gesturing at his work.
“It’s coming along.”
“Need anything else?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
Polite. Formal. Like I was a client instead of someone who’d joined me in my bed a few nights ago.
I nodded and walked away before I could say something pathetic like “did I do something wrong” or “please don’t leave us.”
Back at the herb garden, I attacked the thyme with too much vigor.
Dazy and Feydin would be back from their honeymoon in two days. Life would return to normal, whatever normal meant now.
I’d been living in this perfect bubble where Gavrel was always here, part of our daily routine. Making breakfast with Corey. Flying him to school. Working in the gardens. Sitting with me on the porch after dinner.
It had been temporary, a borrowed moment while his brother was away.
Now he had his own house and his own life to build.
And I’d been stupid enough to fall in love with him.
This wasn’t the surface attraction I’d felt at the beginning. It wasn’t physical chemistry or gratitude for his help.
This was soul-deep, terrifying, complete love. The kind that made my chest spasm when he smiled at Corey. That filled me with warmth when his tail did that happy swish. I wanted to build a life around him and with him and for him.
I’d known better. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do this again, that I wouldn’t trust my judgment about men or believe in fairy tales.
But Gavrel had been steady and so completely different from every other man I’d known.
Except now he was pulling away, and I had no idea how to stop it or if I even should try.
Maybe this was better. A clean break before Corey got more attached. Before I got more attached, though that ship had already sailed and sunk.
I could handle this. I’d handled worse.
The herb garden blurred. I blinked hard, forcing my vision clear.
Work. Focus on work.
By lunchtime, Gavrel had disappeared. I found a note in the kitchen saying he’d gone to his house and would be back later.
When I picked Corey up at school, he was full of nervous energy.
“Is Ms. Blaine still coming today?” he asked as I pulled into the lot behind the manor house and put my car in park.
“Yes. In about twenty minutes.”
We got out and started toward the back door.
“What if I don’t know what to say?” he asked on the walkway.
“You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for.” I pulled him close for a hug. “And I’ll be right there the whole time.”
“Is Gavrel going to be here too?”
“I don’t know. He’s working at his new house.”
Corey’s face fell. “But he said he’d stay close.”
“I’ll text him.”
I pulled out my phone and typed. Corey’s asking if you’ll be here for Virginia’s visit.
The response came right away. Of course. I’ll be right there.
Relief and something more complicated flooded me. Whatever was happening between us, he would still show up for Corey.
“He says yes,” I told my son.
His whole body relaxed. “Good. I feel safer when he’s around.”
My throat tightened. “Me too, baby.”
I set up the gazebo with chairs and a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies. Neutral territory where Corey could escape to the house if he needed to. Where Virginia could see the gardens.
A short time before Virginia was expected to arrive, Gavrel landed on the back lawn.
Corey ran over to him. “You came.”
“I promised I would.” Gavrel’s wings spread wider as Corey got close, an unconscious protective gesture.
I watched from the gazebo as they talked, Corey’s anxiety visibly easing. When they walked over together, Gavrel’s hand rested on Corey’s shoulder.
His eyes met mine for the first time all day. Emotions moved across his face, gone before I could identify them.
“Where do you want me?” he asked.
“Wherever you’re comfortable. Just close enough that Corey knows you’re here.”
He nodded and positioned himself near the gazebo entrance. Standing, wings folded but ready to spread. His tail making small movements on the grass.
This was a guardian. A gargoyle, ancient and powerful. And he’d decided we were worth defending.
Looking at him made my throat close off with pain.
Virginia’s car drove up the driveway a short time later.
“Remember,” I told Corey, “you can end this visit whenever you want. Just say the word and we’re done.”
He nodded, his small hand finding mine.
Virginia got out of her car wearing jeans and a simple blouse. Still put-together, but less intimidating than the suit from the lawyer’s office.
She walked toward the gazebo, her steps slowing when she saw Gavrel.
I didn’t blame her. He looked like something from mythology, massive and carved from living stone.
“Hello,” Virginia said, her voice steady. “Thank you for having me.”
“Hi,” Corey said.
I squeezed his hand and released it. “Corey wanted to show you around the gardens first, if that’s okay.”
“I’d love that.”
Corey led the way toward the rose beds, his commentary starting stilted but gaining confidence as he pointed out different varieties, though he didn’t know most of their names. I could tell he was just making it up to impress her.
“This one’s called Peace,” he said. “It changes colors depending on the weather. And that one over there is my favorite because it smells like apples. It’s called…peachy.”
Virginia asked questions that showed genuine interest rather than just being polite.
“Do you help take care of them?” she asked.
“Sometimes. Mom knows way more about plants than I do. But I’m good at weeding.”
“That’s important work.”
They moved through the gardens, Virginia’s posture gradually relaxing. Her hands stopped trembling. She smiled when Corey got excited about the butterfly garden.
Gavrel followed at a distance, close enough to intervene but far enough away to give them space. His focus never wavered from Corey, and he tracked every movement like a hawk.
When Corey laughed at something Virginia said, her hand went to her chest. Her eyes got bright.
She was overwhelmed from meeting this child she’d missed eight years of knowing. Seeing him animated and healthy and so completely himself must stun her.
The anger I’d been carrying toward her softened. She’d handled things wrong initially, coming in with threats and lawyers. But right now she looked like a grandmother trying not to cry at the sound of her grandson’s laughter.
After the garden tour, we moved inside to the living room. The familiar space seemed to ease Corey’s remaining nerves.
He took her over to his current Lego project, explaining the space station he was building. Virginia sat on the floor with him, asking about the design.
“I’m going to add a botanical garden section,” Corey said. “Because even astronauts need plants.”
“Very practical.” Virginia studied the construction. “I used to build things constantly when I was your age. Not Legos, but models and with small pieces of wood. Houses. That sort of thing. I’d spend hours getting every detail perfect.”
Corey’s hands stilled on the bricks. “Really?”
“I was very focused. Once I started something, I had to finish it. I got that from my father.”
“That’s sick,” Corey said, pointing to a part of his space station, explaining.
From my spot on the couch, I watched them together. The genetic connection was obvious in their features, the way they both tilted their heads when thinking.
Gavrel stood near the window. His tail had started moving again, small swishes that suggested he’d relaxed his guard.
“Do you like dinosaurs?” Corey asked, pulling out a book from the shelf beside him.
“I do.”
They talked more, Virginia sharing carefully edited stories that focused on herself as a child rather than the man who’d sent abortion money and told me to disappear.
I studied her face when she looked at Corey. This was a grandmother memorizing her grandson’s features like she was afraid he’d vanish.
Corey excused himself to use the bathroom.
Virginia watched him go, her composure finally breaking. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She wiped at them fast, like she was embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m trying to hold it together.”
“It’s okay.”
“He’s wonderful. So smart and funny and kind.” She looked at me, her expression raw. “You’ve done an incredible job raising him.”
My throat closed up. “Thank you.”
“I need you to know I’m grateful for this chance. You’ve been generous when you had every right to tell me to go to hell.”
“You’re his grandmother.”
“I’m a stranger who showed up making threats.” Virginia’s hands twisted in her lap. “I was desperate and scared, and I handled it all wrong. I’m so angry at Dennis for stealing eight years from me. He made choices that kept me from knowing Corey existed.”
The tears kept coming. She didn’t try to stop them anymore.
“I can’t change the past,” she said. “But I promise I’ll follow whatever boundaries you set. I know you’re his mother. I know my role here is whatever you allow it to be. I just want the chance to know him. To be part of his life in whatever way you’re comfortable with.”
I saw myself in her. The desperation to do right by Corey. Fear of losing access to him. Anger at circumstances neither of us could control.
“I won’t keep him from you,” I said. “As long as these visits are good for him, we’ll keep doing them.”
“Thank you.” Virginia wiped her eyes.
Corey’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. Virginia composed herself quickly, the mask sliding back into place by the time he appeared.
They talked for another thirty minutes before Virginia checked her watch.
“I should go,” she said. “Let you have your day back.”
“Same time next week?” I asked.
“I’d like that very much.” Virginia stood, smoothing her jeans. She looked at Corey. “Thank you for showing me the gardens and for sharing your Legos.”
“You’re welcome.” Corey hesitated, then added, “Ms. Blaine.”
“You can call me whatever you’re comfortable with,” she said.
We walked her to her car. Gavrel followed, still maintaining his protective distance.
Virginia paused before getting in. “Thank you again. All of you.”
She drove away, her car disappearing down the driveway.
Corey leaned against my side. “That wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be.”
“How do you feel?”
“Tired but okay.” He looked up at me. “She seems nice.”
“She does.”
“Can I go read for a while?”
“Of course.”
He headed inside. I stayed on the porch, aware of Gavrel standing a few feet away.
“He did well,” Gavrel said.
“He did.” I turned to face him. “I appreciate you being here.”
“I told him I would be.”
The distance in his voice made my heart throb. Whatever warmth had existed between us had gone cold.
“I should get back to the house,” he said. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“Right. Of course.”
He spread his wings, preparing for flight. I wanted to ask him to stay, to tell me what had changed. I hated that he was pulling away.
But I couldn’t.
He launched into the air without looking back.
I watched him disappear into the distance, his dark form shrinking until I couldn’t see him anymore.
This was how it would go. Gradual distance. Polite excuses. Until one day he’d be gone completely, and I’d be left trying to explain to Corey why Gavrel didn’t come around anymore.
Inside, the house felt too quiet. I cleaned up the living room, putting Corey’s toys back in their bins. Washed the lemonade glasses. Wiped down surfaces that didn’t need wiping.
Anything to keep my hands busy and my mind from spinning.
I’d survived worse than heartbreak. I’d survive this too. But first I had to get through however many days or weeks it took for him to finish pulling away completely.
I could do that. I was strong enough.
The setting sun painted the kitchen in orange light. I stood at the window, looking out at the gardens where Gavrel had worked this morning.
The stone border sat half-finished, waiting for him to return.
If he returned.
I pressed my forehead against the glass, letting myself feel everything for a moment. The loss. The fear. The love I’d been stupid enough to let take root.
Then I straightened my shoulders and started dinner.