Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Reece
With Mari upstairs and Heath joining the other Gardeners, I search for the one person who might have some insight on the situation. Rita.
If any of the staff in this place has their ear to the metaphorical wall, it’s her.
And since everyone seems to be awake at this late hour, servants included, I find her in the kitchen, making sweet tea with something deliciously sweet baking in the oven.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, and she rushes around the counter to give me a hug.
I return it, realizing quickly how much I missed her in the few days I’d been gone.
“Oh, my dear boy. Something’s happening. Something awful,” she whispers.
“Have you heard?” I ask when she pulls back. “Mr. Gardener wouldn’t say anything other than it being an emergency.”
Rita glances toward the doorway before lowering her voice. “It’s Dahlia.”
The name catches me off guard. Of all the people I expected her to mention, Dahlia wasn’t one of them.
“What about her?”
“She’s been sick. Extremely sick. Throwing up. Exhausted all the time. Some fever here and there. At first everyone thought it was some sort of flu, but it’s been lingering. Elise has been caring for her, and even she says it’s bad.”
Worry pricks up my spine.
“At dinner, she passed out,” Rita goes on, the lines on her face sharpened by worry. “That was the final straw for Heath.”
“Are they going to bring her to the hospital?” I ask.
“She’s refusing to go. I have no idea why. But Dahlia is known to not like to cause a fuss. She’s always been such a good girl. So smart.”
“She should go see a doctor if it’s serious,” I say. “And it sounds serious.”
“Maybe Heath is hoping Mari can convince her? I don’t know,” Rita says. “But as Elise tells it, the girl hasn’t been acting right since that Queen Bee person mentioned her in her one Stitch.”
That gossip must’ve really gotten to her. “Maybe it’s stress related?”
Rita wrings her fingers. “Could be. I know these Seasons bring on a lot of pressure for Omegas. And now with social media bullies and Dahlia has her interviews coming up… Poor thing is going through a lot.”
I glance down at the counter and let out a slow breath. Fuck.
For the past few days, my world narrowed to Mari: distance from her, her heat, whatever will our relationship is, and the impossible future neither of us seems willing to let go of.
But the truth is, the Gardeners are hurting. They needed her here and she’s been holed up with me.
Dahlia is sick, Heath is running himself ragged, and the entire household feels like it’s straining under a weight no one wants to name.
I know I technically don’t work here anymore, but there’s a part of me that never really left. I’d never abandon this family entirely. They’ve been too kind to me over the years.
“It’s good you’re home, Reece.” Rita pats my hand with trembling fingers. “It really is. They need someone steady around them right now. More than ever.”
“Yeah.” I breathe out the word. “I’m here.”
For how long?
“You’re a good man, Reece.” Rita doesn’t seem to want to continue the conversation.
What is there to say?
And as I stand in the kitchen listening to everything that’s happening, all the destress and tension, I realize that whatever comes next with Mari, whatever mess we’ve made of our hearts, it can wait. It has to.
Right now, the people I care about the most need help. And that’s what I’ve always been good at doing—helping people.
I may not be able to fix whatever’s happening entirely, but I’m sure as hell going to try.
Pandemonium has taken hold of the Gardener residence by the time I make it into the living room after Mari.
Intermingled voices and buzzing energy fills the air. I take my pace besides the two maids already there with a picture of water and a coffee pot.
I should really send Pen a message and let her know about my absence. But the moment the thought airs, it dissolves when Rue gives a loud sniffle.
Rita catches my eye as she walks in and hands me a plate of cookies before leaving again. Her message is clear.
Fix this with sugar.
“What is this about?” Mari says, gaze darting around nervously. “Where’s Violet and Iris? Someone please tell me what’s going on!”
Her voice cracks and the sound sends equally large fissures through my heart.
“Violet’s in Emporia and Iris has Council work she couldn’t get out of, but I’ve let them know we need them here as soon as possible. They should be here tomorrow,” Heath says as he crosses the room to stand in front of the sofa Dahlia and Mrs. Gardener are sitting on.
Rue’s bouncing with nerves on the adjacent armchair, and Mari stands across from her, arms folded across her chest.
“So…” Mari pushes. “What’s the emergency?”
“Our poor Dahlia hasn’t been feeling well,” Mrs. Gardener says and swipes a piece of hair from Dahlia’s forehead.
“Mom, I’m fine,” she protests. Skin stretches tight across her cheeks, her eyes dark and slightly feverish.
“Honey, you passed out on us,” her mom says. “I’d say that’s far from fine.”
“You fainted?” Mari repeats, voice rising. “That’s serious, D. You need to see a doctor.”
Dahlia’s gaze lifts to her sister and she sighs. “Like I said, I’m fine. More than fine actually.”
Heath shakes his head. “Go on. Tell them.”
Dahlia draws in a breath, but instead of saying anything, she clamps her mouth shut until her lips thin into white lines.
“What is it dear?” Mrs. Gardener asks, on the verge of panic. “You can tell us.”
“Come on, D!” Rue whines. “I’m tired. I need my beauty sleep. If there’s really some big emergency then why all the secrecy?”
Another minute passes but then Dahlia reaches behind her and pulls out a thick envelope. She barely shows it before Rue snatches it from her and opens it.
“Hey!” Dahlia shouts.
“Rue, give it back to your sister,” Mrs. Gardener says, but Rue is already scanning over the page, her eyes wider by the second.
That’s when Mari steps in and grabs it out of her hands. But instead of passing to back to Dahlia, she takes her chance to read it too.
“Wait a minute…You got into Valor?” she asks.
Every eye snaps to the shy Gardener sitting on the couch.
I gape, too. I may have never gone to any sort of higher education but everyone knows of Valor University.
It’s the oldest college in Sabine and one of the highest ranked in the entire country.
Ivy League, with a limited acceptance rate, and is known to be exclusively Alpha only. Only the best and the brightest get in.
Dahlia nods and finally some of the weight lifts from her shoulders. “I got accepted into their math and music programs.”
“Both?” Mrs. Gardener gasps, pressing a hand to her chest.
“O.M.G.! Dahlia! This is insane! Heath couldn’t even get in there!” Rue chimes in, which gains her a dark look from her brother.
“I guess they liked my interview.” A bashful smile lifts Dahlia’s lips. “And my grades.”
“Heck yeah, they did!” Mari says. “That’s fantastic news, D! Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Heath mutters with a frown. “We can’t afford it. Valor is expensive. Even with Dahlia’s trust—”
“We don’t have to, Heath,” Mari says, passing him the letter next. “Read what it says. There, on the bottom.”
He does. “A full scholarship…” But for some reason, his sour expression doesn’t lessen. If anything, he seems to grow more agitated, more angry. He pierces his sister with a searing look. “You want to fuck that up? Are you serious? You’re ready to throw away something this big?”
“Heath,” Mrs. Gardener warns, sitting up straighter. “Stop. What are you talking about?”
“Yeah, Heath. You’re just jealous,” Rue says.
Heath ignores her and keeps his attention fixed on Dahlia. “Tell them. Or I will.”
His threat lands hard, heavy. I wipe my expression clean when I want to wince.
“There’s more?” Rue mutters, but is quickly shushed by her mother.
“Go on, dear,” she says with a flickering smile. “You can tell us. Anything you have to say, we’re here for you.”
Dahlia pushes herself up and raises her chin. “Fine.” She sighs heavily. “You all remember Tristen Harwood? My music tutor?”
There’s a collective murmur goes through the room.
“Well, Tristen…” Her voice drops to a dull whisper. “He…he’s also the father of my baby.”
Wait, did she say…baby?
My next breath freezes in my throat.
Oh, fuck.
Everything inside me plummets through the floor as the tension in the room spikes.
No one moves.
“D-Dahlia, don’t be silly,” her mother says with a nervous laugh, “you can’t be. There’s no way! You’re…you’re going to Valor.”
But Dahlia’s expression is deadly serious and doesn’t hold an ounce of shame. “I am. I’m pregnant.”