Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Marigold
The knock comes long after everyone should be asleep.
I’m already tucked beneath my blankets, halfway through a sketch of a flower arrangement I saw earlier that afternoon, when three sharp taps hit.
I glance at the clock: 11:30 p.m. Much too late for someone to be knocking on my bedroom door.
“Come in,” I call out.
The door opens, and to my complete surprise, my brother steps inside.
I sit up straighter. Heath never comes to my bedroom, even during the day. Whenever he wants to talk to me, he prefers his office—Dad’s study once—probably so he can sit behind a desk and pretend he’s eighty years old.
His presence and the awkward way he stands in my doorway hits strangely.
And the longer I look at him, the more I realize how exhausted he appears. Dark crescents hang heavy beneath his eyes, and his dress shirt’s sleeves are rolled up. No tie, no jacket. Even his hair is disheveled and apparently in need of a good wash.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this unkempt before. It’s…disturbing.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”
“Thank you,” he says with a half-laugh. “But that’s also how I feel, so I don’t fault you for saying it.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did you just get home?”
“Yeah.” His head hangs lower.
“Oh, wow,” I say. “Where were you all day?
He exhales heavily, like he’s thinking whether or not he should say his next words, but then he steps farther into my room and says, “I’ve been…working.”
I blink. “Working? On what?”
“It’s not really a ‘on what’ kind of situation, Mari.” His expression tells me to drop it.
Which only makes me more suspicious.
I pull my knees up beneath the blanket. “What does that even mean?”
Heath stares at me for a long moment. Then he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll explain it another time.” He sighs. “But the reason why I’m here is to ask how your date with Mr. Moreau went.”
“This late?” My heartbeat speeds up. I don’t know if he’s seen Queen Bee’s Stitches, but he’s bound to have heard from my sisters. Certainly Rue. He has to know about Luca’s proposition. “Couldn’t your curiosity wait till morning?”
After agreeing to have Luca claim me, today was a whirlwind.
Somehow Queen Bee has already been buzzing on Stitch about our fast-burn romance, and I’ve already gotten texts from both Violet and Iris about what it means.
Rue followed me around since the moment I walked through the door, while Mom was fussing for every detail of the date.
The only people missing were Dahlia, who was out practicing with her tutor as usual, and of course Heath.
Oh, and Reece. But after having him as one of my chaperones today, I suspect he wanted to keep his distance from me after everything that happened at the café. The way he looked when I tripped, when he reached for me automatically, and then Luca—
I shake the memory from my head, insides buzzing.
“No, I couldn’t wait,” Heath replies. “Because Luca contacted me for permission to be your mate.”
My stomach drops. “What? Already?”
My tone gives me away and Heath angles his head, staring hard. “You don’t sound excited.”
“I am.” I glance down at the blanket gathered in my lap, at the way my hands had involuntarily clenched. “I am, it’s just…”
The same wobbly feeling from the café returns. The same uncertainty and slight panic of whether or not I’m doing the right thing. My skin throbs as though Reece and Luca both branded me when they reached at the same time. Only one of them pulled away.
I’m still not sure if it was the right one.
“It’s a lot,” I finish lamely.
Heath is quiet for a moment. Then he asks, his tone surprisingly gentle, “Are you sure about him? Are you sure he’s the one?”
“The one? He’s an Alpha, and he’s nice.”
“Okay, but what else?”
“What do you mean by ‘what else’?” I ask, confused, uncertainty morphing into frustration. “What else is there supposed to be? You’re the one who wanted me to mate quickly. You’re the one who said it should be easy for me.”
He winces. “Okay, I may have said those things, but—”
“You did.”
“Fine. I did,” he corrects. “But I didn’t mean for you to just choose anyone, Mari. This is your future we’re talking about. Your life. You should pick an Alpha because you like him. A lot.”
The word Alpha isn’t lost on me. Still, this is all strange coming from my brother.
He didn’t seem to give two shits whether love was in the equation for Violet or Iris.
He pushed them to mate with Alphas from respectable families, who had money and could take care of them.
Love was never a factor. Or at least he never made it seem that way.
What’s changed now?
“If you’re not sure, don’t do it,” he goes on, voice haggard. “I can tell the Moreaus you’ve changed your mind, or I can reject the claiming myself. I can say I think Luca’s not good enough for you. Or whatever. I’ll make up something. I have no issue taking the blame for it.”
Who is this man, and what has he done with my real brother?
My eyes threaten to bug right out of my head but I can’t look away until I’ve figured him out. This isn’t the same Heath who evaluated potential mates like he was buying real estate or who nearly lost his mind over Iris’s Season last year.
I stare at him, at a complete loss for words. I don’t know what’s happened to him, and this new shock unmoors me further.
“This is important, Mari. So if Luca really isn’t the one you want, I’ll find a way out of this. If he is, then we can start talking about the next step. You need to let me know either way.”
“You…you mean it?” The question snags in my throat.
“Of course I mean it,” he replies. “I want you to be happy.”
There’s something about those words that makes tears spring to my eyes and I’m not sure why. I quickly blink them away.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
He laughs. “I had two sisters prove me very, very wrong, and not once but twice.” Then he adds, “Don’t tell them, though. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
I chuckle. “I can’t make any promises.”
“Funny.” He hesitates, then walks further into my bedroom, closes the door behind him, lowers his voice. “Listen… You can’t tell anyone this.”
“What?”
“I’m serious, Mari. This stays between you and me. No one knows, not even Mom, and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.”
“I swear,” I say. “Not a soul.”
The air goes tense in my room and Heath glances in the corners like he expects Rue to pop out at any moment and scream surprise!
Then in an undertone, he says, “I got a job.”
I blink, wondering if I heard him right. “You got a what?”
“A job.”
“No, I heard the words. I just don’t understand them.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been working. You know, to make money?”
My brother? Working? Like, in an actual workplace? With other people?
The concept is so absurd my brain refuses to process it. But it does make sense when I consider all the times he’s randomly been missing or had to skip out on things, like my date today.
Heath leans against my dresser. “It’s not complicated.
We need the money, so I’ve been working whenever I can to help cover costs and so I don’t have to make any more cuts or start taking from trust accounts.
If the past two Seasons have taught me anything, it’s that sometimes the old ways are wrong.
I thought I was protecting all of you. I really thought I was doing the right thing. ”
He’s been working all this time in secret…for us? “You were, Heath. We all know your intentions were always good, as…harsh as they may have been.”
“No.” His tone drops. “I was trying to control outcomes because I thought it would make everything easier for everyone. And I forgot what Dad would’ve wanted for you all. Really wanted. So I’m trying to get back on the right path.”
HIs honesty surprises me. Heath never admits fault. Ever.
My heart aches for my brother. He’s always carried the most responsibility after Dad died, and now he’s added even more. I don’t know how he does it. His shoulders should be permanently curved from the weight of it all.
“So tell me. What are you doing for work?” I ask. “Are you moonlighting as a matchmaker on the side?”
“Fuck, no. I’d rather walk in front of a freight train,” he grumbles.
“Then what is it?”
“Let’s just say it’s something that I don’t get paid enough for.”
“Isn’t that always the case?” I laugh. “But that’s not an actual answer, either.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting tonight, so take it or leave it.
” He tries to mimic firmness, but a small smile slips through.
“The point is that if I can help cover things myself, then none of you need choose your mates based on money. Now the matches can be about what they’re supposed to be about. ”
He doesn’t say the word, but I know what he means—love. Choosing a mate should be for love.
My thoughts instantly fly to Reece, and my throat tightens. It shouldn’t—I know it shouldn’t, but it does. He’s the first one I see when I think about what it might mean to be in a partnership.
“I mean it, Mari. If Luca isn’t the one, tell me.” The intensity in his eyes surprises me. “If you’re not ready to mate this Season, then we can wait until next year. There’s no rush. Okay?”
“I…I don’t know right now.” Which is true. I finally thought I was moving forward after being so stagnant for so long, but now all I feel is…lost.
Everything seems tilted sideways.
“How about this,” he says. “How about you let me know tomorrow what you want me to tell Luca. You’re right—it is late, and I don’t want you making any rash decisions. Think about it and get back to me. Is that fair?”
I nod, not trusting myself to say the right thing.
“Okay, good.” He glances over his shoulder. “There’s one more favor I need to ask you. I’ll be asking Dahlia and Rue about it tomorrow, too, but since I have you here now—”
“What is it?” The shift is abrupt enough to make me suspicious.
“We’re going to have to start pulling more weight around here, in the house. Start helping out more with chores and things,” he says.
“Oh, that’s not a big deal. I don’t have a problem helping out. Rue might be harder to convince, though.”
“She isn’t going to have much of a choice, since we’re now down a servant.”
I pause and something like ice creeps along the inside of my chest. “Down a servant? Is someone sick?”
Heath’s head tilts to the side and he’s back to studying me. “No. Reece left today to go back to the Ashford estate. But he told you, didn’t he? He must’ve told you.”
All the air whooshes from my lungs like I’ve been socked in the chest with a sledgehammer. For a moment I can’t do anything but gape at him.
“He didn’t tell you?” Heath seems genuinely shocked. “Hmm, that’s strange. I thought you two were friends.”
Yeah, I thought we were too. Although after today, after what happened in the café…
“When—when did he leave?” This doesn’t make sense. I just saw him. I just—
“He left this evening,” Heath says. “I got a call from Pen earlier saying she needed an extra hand and that Reece had volunteered.”
The room suddenly feels too small. That doesn’t sound like something he’d do at all. Any of Pen’s other former servants could’ve gone. Why would he…
I stop. Is it because of me?
I can’t believe that. I refuse to believe it.
He’ll be back, though, eventually. Right?
“Do you know for how long?” My voice sounds strange. Faraway. “Just for a few weeks, or…?”
Heath shrugs. “I don’t know. Pen didn’t mention if it was a permanent thing or not.”
Even if I was mad at Reece for tricking me about being No One, that doesn’t mean I wanted him to leave. He didn’t leave the house, not really. He bolted on me.
“Mari?”
I force myself to nod. “I’m fine. It’s fine. He must have had his reasons. We all do.”
Heath studies me, but thankfully doesn’t push me about it anymore. He opens the bedroom door to leave. “Remember what we talked about, okay? About Luca. And let me know tomorrow,” he says.
I nod again. “Good night.”
The second the door closes, I move, leaping out of bed and rushing to the window overlooking the yard. When I spot the familiar dim light on in the shed, my heart skips in my chest. Heath was wrong. Reece is still here. He hasn’t left yet.
I don’t think. I don’t even grab shoes. I open my door, quickly peek down the hall to see Heath disappearing into his bedroom, then I take off down the stairs and out the side door. In my nightgown, I sprint across the dark lawn to the shed.
Not sure what I’ll even say when I confront him, I yank the door open.
Moonlight spills inside, and what I see makes every brittle piece of hope inside me shatter.
The workbench is empty of his blueprints, tools, and random doodads.
There are no more piles of half-finished projects.
Instead, Heath’s old sports equipment sits stacked on the table, as if Reece never had used this space at all, and even though his graphite scent lingers, it’s overpowered by the stronger scents of gasoline, paint thinner, and grass clippings.
Crossing the tight space, I spot a dark wooden box next to a pair of lacrosse sticks. It’s beautiful, with an intricate design around its edges and older brass hinges and latch. Flicking the latch up, I open the top and gasp as a tiny ballerina in a tulle tutu spins as a lullaby plays.
A music box. And it’s gorgeous.
“Where did you come from?” I whisper to it in the silence like it will somehow answer me. But, I realize, the answer to my question lies against the burgundy velvet interior—it’s a small strip of paper, and written across it in familiar neat handwriting:
I’m sorry.
I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a heavy, gut-wrenching sadness.
He’s gone. Really gone.
A small, broken sound escapes me, and I press a hand over my mouth. But it doesn’t stop the tears. They come anyway.
What have I done?