Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
LEAF
“I am never, ever trusting Robbie with gummies again. Those were potent. Yesterday is a blur,” I say as I take the tea Thorne has offered me and chug it down. “Another.”
Thorne lets out a small laugh, and I roll my eyeballs. It hurts though, really fucking badly, to move them. When I glanced in the mirror this morning, I realized how terrible I looked with lopsided hair, bloodshot eyes, a crease down my cheek and neck.
I look like a piece of garbage.
Not that Thorne thinks so.
The way his eyes eat me up makes me puff up slightly. As much as a man can puff when he’s hungover as hell.
Thorne hands me another cup of tea just as the doorbell rings. I can’t be fucked to answer it, so I just sit in the chair overlooking the backyard while Thorne gets it, and I wait for a report on who or what is annoying me at this hour.
If he says it’s Michael, I may cry.
He just comes in with two plastic pots filled with plants I don’t recognize.
“What is that?”
Thorne’s lips twitch. “My buddy just dropped them off. The plants you requested to end Michael.”
I gasp and stand up so quickly the tea falls on the ground, but I can wipe it up later. “What kind are they?”
“Hemlock and nightshade.” He glances down at them. “He told me which was which, but I don’t think it matters.”
I take them from him and set them on a cluttered shelf before pulling him in for a crushing hug. “Thank you, and tell your shady friend thank you as well. This is the nicest thing someone has done for me in ages.”
Thorne cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “I think I’ve been very nice to you. Tucked you into bed last night and everything.”
I snort and then watch as he grabs a tea towel and starts to mop up the mess I made.
“I’ll make you another tea. Go sit outside and think about where to plant the poison. The fresh air always helps a hangover.”
I do as he says, moving onto the porch and taking a seat in the rocking chair, propping my feet up and letting my eyes close. It’s overcast today and a little chilly, but it’s not so bad. I love the autumn. The changing of the leaves, the rain, the sweaters I get to wear.
“Here you go,” Thorn says, taking a seat next to me and pulling my legs onto his lap. He rubs my feet, and I let out a small whimper.
“Thank you. For the plants, the foot rub, and generally being a wonderful boyfriend.”
His ears go a little pink, and he ducks his head. “Anything for you.”
The way he’s looking at me jogs my mind, and I gasp, sitting up so quickly that I almost spill the tea all over my chest. “Did you say you loved me?”
Thorne lets out a booming laugh. “Fuck, Leaf. You have a way, don’t you?”
“I mean it, Thorne. Did you tell me you loved when I was zonked out of my mind?”
Thorne shrugs. “Might have been unable to help myself.”
I sigh and lean back once more, making sure to keep my gaze on him. “Well, go on. Tell me again now that I’m sober.”
Thorne shakes his head. “Nah, too late. Said it once, won’t say it again.”
My lips turn down, and I grind my heel into his thigh. “Say it, or I’ll torture it out of you.”
Thorne grins and then rolls his lips between his teeth. “Fine, I love you. There. You happy?”
“Immensely,” I breathe, feeling something well up inside of me.
Anticipation, eagerness, and something else.
I’m giddy with it though. “And, just so you know, I love you too. In case that wasn’t clear.
” I lift my hand, adding it in ASL—the I-L-Y on my fingers forming into one single sign to convey this very big feeling in my chest.
Thorne’s gaze slams into mine, and I see the intensity in those depths. I want to put my tea down, crawl into his lap, and suck on those lips, but before I can, I see movement in the distance. A critter waving at me from the fence post.
My gaze narrows, and I shoot up. “Fucking Michael! He’s ruining the moment! He knew this was going to happen! He had this planned!”
I jolt forward, the teacup falling to the ground in a clatter. It’s probably broken, but I don’t care. I’m on the move, my feet digging into the ground as I rush toward where Michael just was. Of course he scurried away, went back into his hidey-hole.
But I’m gonna get him.
As I approach where he was, my gaze takes in the various fruits and veggies lining the ground. My bare foot hits an apple, and I gasp. “I’m gonna kill him!” I shout as my foot starts to itch. I’m going to get hives.
He must have known this when he planted that apple.
I skid to a stop, looking this way and that, rubbing my foot on the ground to stave off the itch that is building.
“Leaf,” Thorne says as he approaches. “You hurt?”
“Stepped on a damn apple that Michael brought over here.”
I point to my foot, and Thorne bends down, picking up my foot gently, examining the bottom.
His fingers brush over the rash that’s forming, and I stare down at him. He looks good on his knees. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
“No, I just need some antihistamine ointment.”
“Hm,” he hums, and then his gaze turns toward the chewed-up veggies. He tosses the apple away and begins to stand when he stops. His eyes squint, and he reaches over, picking something up between his fingers.
“What is that?” I ask when I look down and see something white in his fingers.
He cocks his head and murmurs, “A tooth.”
My mouth parts on a gasp. “A tooth! Oh my god. Michael! Is he okay?”
Thorne’s gaze meets mine, his brows furrowed.
“No, Leaf. It’s a human tooth. And it looks old.”
Having worked as an interpreter for most of my adult life, I have always been prepared to process and repeat anything from the most mundane conversation to the most unhinged shit a person could think of.
Nothing gave me more dread than when a public performer noticed me.
It meant I was going to spend the next half hour being forced to sign offensive sentences like I was some performing circus animal, and my Deaf clients’ access to the actual show came far below the entertainment of the hearing audience.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the man I was falling for, the possible love of my life, to look me in the face and tell me that the thing in his hand was a human tooth.
I all but throw myself backward. “Oh, what the fuck?”
“Breathe,” he says.
I’m about to tell him I am breathing. I’m dizzy, so I’m probably breathing too much. Then I become very aware that my chest is tight and my lungs are burning. Maybe I’m more allergic to apples than I thought. I suck in air and wheeze out an exhale before things return to a bit more normal.
Except none of this is normal because Thorne is still holding the fucking tooth.
“Shit. Shit! What does this even mean?”
“Nothing. Not…necessarily.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, which, who the fuck carries around a handkerchief—isn’t that just for the movies? He wraps the tooth in it, then slips it into his pocket before reaching for me.
“Please don’t touch me with tooth hands,” I beg.
He switches from his left hand to his right, which isn’t better, but it is something. The weight of his palm against my lower back is soothing, and it makes my struggle for breath a little easier.
“It’s very possible that one of the farm workers got a tooth knocked out from an accident. Or maybe one of the construction people who came to work on the foundation for the silo.”
I feel a little panicked. “Right, the foundation for the structure that was never built, so is probably housing a bunch of bodies?” I’m well aware my voice sounds hysterical, and from the way Thorne is handling me like an animal gone rabid, he can definitely hear it.
“More tea,” he says.
“If I drink any more tea, I’m going to be pissing all afternoon,” I complain, but I let him lead me back up to the house, which is a comfort in itself.
Even if it might be some kind of serial killer safe house.
Shit.
He sits me down at the table, then kneels in front of me, and I have no idea where he got the ice pack so fast because I hadn’t noticed him leaving my side, he presses it against the back of my neck.
“Oh. That’s nice.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. They’re a lifesaver. Now, where’s the ointment?”
I tell him, and he disappears and then reappears, kneels in front of me, and rubs the cream onto the bottom of my foot before wrapping it in a bandage.
We sit silently for a little while after that, and I feel a little better by the time he takes both of my hands in his. Oh. He’s handling me again. It’s fair. I’m about ten seconds from a total meltdown.
First Michael, and now this?
What god did I piss off? What ancient ritual item did I break, and what curse did I release?
“I’m going to spend the day looking around the property, okay?” His voice is a soothing rumble. “I have a feeling a lot of what we’re looking for is either in the cellar or buried on the grounds.”
Hearing him just say it like that? Yeah, it’s a lot. It was okay when it was an abstract concept, but with it all in my face now? It’s too much.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
He strokes his thumbs over the tops of my hands. “But at the end of the day,” he goes on slowly, “I’m going to have to call this in.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ll need your cooperation and permission to let the FBI forensic team do what they need to do. That is probably going to mean tearing into your house foundation. And the floors. Probably the walls…”
“So basically they’re going to demolish the place?” I ask, my voice kind of light and thready.
The look on his face tells me what I need to know.
“And let me guess, insurance doesn’t cover that shit.”
He bows his head. “I don’t know what’s in your policy, but…not usually. No.”
“Well, fuck. There goes my retirement.” In order to be able to afford anything, I’m probably going to have to work again. That cash I found under my aunt’s mattress is not enough to live on.