Chapter 46 Monroe
MONROE
“Do you know which plants you’re interested in?” Briar asks.
He pulls out the key to the padlock wrapped around the greenhouse’s handles.
“Not really.” I scrunch my nose, picturing the layout in my mind. “Hoping for a variety. Is there a way to transplant them safely?”
“Of course.” Opening the door, he holds it for me. “What did you have in mind?”
I step inside. Mist floats down from the ceiling, and I shiver against its chill.
Briar shuts the door, his focus warming me as he follows me through the greenhouse.
Three stories of windows are bisected by a forest-green grid.
Grow lamps, spinning fans, and large planters filled with experimental flowers hang above us while I inspect each plant variant, visualizing them within the pots we’ll be constructing.
Briar shows me how to move them from one pot to another, keeping the roots intact with our magic.
I wiggle my nose for the third time at a tulip with no results.
“What’s going on?” he asks, and I’m slightly annoyed he’s both perceptive and magically in tune to my emotions.
Would he be asking if Fate hadn’t granted him access to my feelings through the bond?
At the same time, I know if I don’t let him in, I won’t truly be giving this connection between us a chance.
I take a deep breath. “Does Corrigan have a mate?”
“She does… Why do you ask?”
“I overheard your parents mention their kids being mated and was surprised it’s never come up.”
“It’s not something she likes to talk about.” The ball of his throat works and there’s a clear defensiveness behind his tone. But why? It seems as though I’m not the only one holding my cards close to the chest.
“Who is it? Do I know them?”
“You do.” He takes a long inhale and averts his gaze. “It’s Skylar.”
“Skylar? Really?” My brows furrow. “How did I not know this?”
Briar merely shoots me a look.
Did she know the entire time we were in the Netherlands? Was that why Corrigan had taken her post there—to be closer to her mate and satisfy the bond? Skylar was away now, though, so why had Corrigan remained here? “Is it true she sent her away for spring?”
“Not really. At least I don’t think so.” His lavender brows draw together. “Corrigan’s been pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, especially after you and Dani’s mate came into the picture.”
“How long have they been mates?”
“Over three years. It happened while Skylar was at the Conservatory.”
“Wow.” I’d spent day and night with her for months, shifted in and out of our bunny forms, and she never said a thing. To be fair, neither did I. “Poor Skylar.”
“Yeah. It’s certainly a complicated situation.
” He clears his throat and pivots away from me, walking down the path and tending to some of the plants spread around the edge of the greenhouse.
I plump up a few tulip bulbs in front of me, and when I glance back over at Briar, I don’t see him anywhere.
Lancing pain curls up through my ribs, and I blink at the burning sensation behind my eyes.
I push up onto my tiptoes and search for Briar among the blossoms. When I finally spot him, which surprisingly takes some effort, he’s crouched, clipping back the branches of a raspberry bush.
He sets down the shears and pinches the bridge of his nose.
The twisted-up tension releases a smidge, but it’s not enough to negate the hurt emanating from him.
I step forward, my foot hitting a metal bucket. “Shit.”
His entire body stills. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he slips them casually into his pockets, then clears his throat. “Anything else you need to do while we’re here?”
“I don’t think so. Do you need to get back?”
“Not for a few more hours. Cherri planned a movie night for everyone to watch The Wizard of Oz.” A slight smile draws across his lips, and the ache lingering in the bond subsides a touch more. “Bedtime will be late tonight.”
I want to ask him what’s wrong, but I can’t bring myself to.
I already have a pretty good idea why he’s upset.
The longing mixed with pain… Things have been going well for us, and I want to give this a chance, but I’m not ready to accept the bond.
Not until I can say with certainty the decision comes from me, not the connection manufactured by Fate.
I’ve loved spending time with Briar, but it wouldn’t be fair if I claimed him while having doubts over the source of my feelings. I couldn’t do that to him or his girls.
“How is Juni doing?” I ask, latching on to his comment about bedtime.
“Better. The scar should disappear eventually. Faster than if she were mortal, slower than it would for you or I.” He sighs. “Once she has magic, that won’t be a problem for her.”
“And the nightmares?” I haven’t stopped thinking about that night, and I know it’s affecting Briar. He’s scared to be away and something will happen again.
“She’s had a few tough nights but not nearly as bad as they were.”
Every night since, we’ve mainly been at his house, and if we go somewhere to work on things for the ceremony—like we are tonight—he always makes sure he’s home before the girls go to bed. I don’t blame him for being anxious. I just wish there was something more I could do to help.
“That’s great.” I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, wondering if I’m crossing some line. “How long has she had them?”
“Always.” His eyes drop to his boots and he sways on his heels. “As long as I’ve had her.”
“Does she ever say what they’re about?”
“Not really, though she doesn’t have to.” The words rattle, like it’s taking everything in him to speak them aloud. Rage simmers in the bond, and I rub my chest, trying to alleviate the unfamiliar burn. “I’m certain they’re about her death…and the events leading up to it.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“About her death?” He winces and shakes his head. “Not really. It seems cruel to bring up something that torments her.” His face finally draws up to meet my stare. “Is that horrible of me?”
Insecurity weaves through that last question.
“I’m not a parent, so I don’t have the same frame of reference,” I clarify, hating that he doubts even for a second that he’s not doing right by his daughter. She’s lucky to have him.
I would know.
As a child whose parents barely noticed her unless she was achieving something of worth to them, having a parent watch me with that glint of unconditional love Briar has for his girls, I would’ve given anything for that.
“I can imagine not wanting to cause your child more pain or distress. Protecting them.”
His forehead crinkles above his glasses. “But?”
“Professionally speaking, if she never talks about it, how is she supposed to move forward?” My jaw tightens, feeling every bit a fraud doling out advice I’m not willing to take.
Regardless, I want to help Briar and Juni, so I continue.
“It doesn’t have to be you. It could be someone else more removed from the situation.
She may even be more comfortable discussing it that way. ”
“You think my daughter would rather talk to a stranger than her own father?” His lips flatten into a line, but it doesn’t hide the anger simmering along our connection.
“Sometimes it’s easier. It takes courage to share with the ones who matter.
” My gaze flicks to the floor. “If a stranger judges or rejects you, you can simply tell them to fuck off. With someone you care about, there’s a cost. What if they turn you away?
What if they never see you the same after learning the truth? ”
“I see.” He takes his hands out of his pockets and grips the ledge of the table behind him, leaning back against it and tilting his head at me.
It takes a moment, but that simmer settles, and I’m grateful it diffuses his defensiveness.
“And that’s what you did in the mortal realm?
Listened to strangers tell you about their problems? ”
“It was.” I slide up beside him and hold his stare. “I’d be happy to talk to her if you’d like.”
“Of course.” He nods, his voice soft. “I’ll do anything if it’ll help her.”
“I know you will.” I press up on the balls of my feet, bringing my mouth to his, overcome by his tenderness. Threading my fingers through his lavender strands, I deepen the kiss, licking and swirling my tongue around his. He pulls me into his chest.
“It’s important you’re home. I get it.” I cradle the side of his head, hair still woven between my fingers. “Your girls need you.”
The mist filtering overhead barely alleviates the heat coursing through me. I drag my palm down, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. When I get to the third, he clasps a hand around mine, tucking it behind his back.
“The night you stayed and helped me with the girls meant so much to me. To all of us. And I know I haven’t been able to take you out and court you properly the way I’d like…
” His voice is restrained as it wars with the sweetness perfuming the air.
“But there’s something I need to be clear about when it comes to us. ”
At the word us I hold my breath.
Something unreadable flits through his stare. “Did you see anything when the bond took hold?”
“Not really.” I try to recall the day the mate mark appeared. “There was a strange dream beforehand, but that was it.”
“Were you in a hospital?”
“Yes.”
“You saw my only mortal memory.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “When the bond is being tethered, mortal memories are shared between mates.”
The hand absentmindedly twisting with his locks stills and my brows furrow. “I’m not sure I understand…”
I pull my hand back, but he catches it and brings both of ours together, tucking mine within the shelter of his own. The rose swirling his knuckles moves in time with his thumbs stroking up and down my wrists.
“I saw your life, Monroe. Saw you grow up with parents you felt you had to please. Watched your friendship grow with Charlotte. How she got sick and you cared for her. Then you had her parents to care for, your patients, Jessica.” He bends his knees, dropping into my line of sight.
“You’ve always taken care of everyone around you. ”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, hating how fragile I feel.
“It’s not. It’s incredible.” He blows out a breath. “But who took care of you?”
Nails dig into my palms. The pain echoes through my veins. “I did.”
“Exactly.” His brows lift like I should understand, but I don’t. “That’s what worries me.”
I pull my fists out from his hold and step back. “What does this have to do with me helping with Juni?”
The space between us might as well be an ocean.
“If you want to help, then of course, do it. But not as a professional or out of some misplaced need to be helpful.” His hands slide into his pockets, and he looks around as if he’s searching for the words.
“What are you saying?”
When his eyes zip to mine, the room is stripped of all its oxygen.
“You’re my mate, Monroe. I know you’re still figuring out what it means to you, but to me, it means building a life, a family, with you.” He slams his palm over his mate mark. “You have nothing to prove to earn my love. You have it.”
I stare at the foxgloves climbing up over where his fingers are now splayed. “What if there was no bond between us?”
“What do you mean?”
“If Fate hadn’t made us mates, would you still feel that way?”
“Yes.” His answer comes without hesitation. It’s a plea, rich and guttural, tugged up by the roots from within the deepest part of him.
“How can you say that with so much certainty?”
“Because I fell for you long before I had this.” He curls his fingers in, clawing at his chest. “I fell for the woman who ordered takeout to eat on mismatched plates she painted herself. The woman who watched Smash or Pass and danced in a smelly shirt and created art in her tiny apartment. The one who showed up in my classroom full of brilliance, ready to take on Fate.”
He takes a step forward. Then another. Another. Until he’s swallowed up the ocean between us.
He sweeps back my mint-green strands and tucks them behind my ear. “I’ve fallen for every iteration of you. I’d claim them all and every one to come.”
There are no words, only the wobble of my chin.
“What if I can’t give you what you want?”
His brows knit over his spectacles. “What have I asked you to give?”
“Nothing. But I know where all roads lead.” I shove a fingernail against my sternum. “This bond. And maybe you’re okay with sitting out this ceremony. But how many will pass until you grow tired of waiting around for me?”
It’s been over a year since the mate mark showed up and so much has changed. I no longer blame Briar for my death, no longer want to run from my afterlife, but I’m still not ready to take that step. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be.
“Is that what you think I’ve been doing?” A vein bulges along his neck and the corner of his bearded jaw ticks. “Waiting around for you?”
“Isn’t it?” I toss my hands in the air and step back from him. “You’re giving me time to come to my senses and give in.”
“What is it you don’t want to give in to, Monroe?”
“I don’t know. Wanting you. The bond. All of it.” My stomach twists, sharp and stabbing. I grab my abdomen, inhale and exhale until I’m no longer rooted in place. I glance at the door.
“I thought you were done running away,” Briar says, and when I finally muster the courage to look back up at him, that pain I’m feeling is reflected at me tenfold.
“I am.” I swallow down my exasperation. Hiding in the mortal realm didn’t fix my problems and leaving now won’t solve them. “I’m just…” I take the anger rolling through me and instead of brushing it aside, I dig into the discomfort. “Frustrated.”
“You’re frustrated?” He huffs out a laugh and raises his brows, shaking his head at me. “Right there with you.”
His hands tuck behind his back and his demeanor shifts. One step at a time, the distance closes between us again, and his nose twitches above me.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask, my composure slipping from our proximity.
Keeping his voice low, he bends forward. At first, I think he’ll kiss me, and my entire body stills, anticipating the gentle brush of his lips. When they meet my skin, they skim up my cheek, stopping at my ear. “I heard somewhere that art is a great form of stress relief.”
A palm splats against my forehead, fingers dragging over my cheek, leaving a wet smear. I gasp, swiping across my nose. Yellow paint stains my fingertip. I glare up at him. “You’re so dead.”
“You’re right.” He chuckles. “I am. And so are you.”
“Asshole.” Though for the first time, the thought doesn’t sting so much. “I’m going to get you for that.”
“Not if you can’t catch me.” He shifts his weight to the side and takes off like a dart.
Oh, it’s on.