Page 96 of Good Directions

I feel the tips of his fingers brush against my arm, the older man trying to get my attention as I storm off. He continues to talk, his voice fading the farther I get from him, my focus on one thing and one thing alone—getting answers. Which means finding Sawyer and asking her what the fuck she was thinking.

I’m in the car and back on the road in a heartbeat, heading for the lab. I really should stick to my original plan—head home, shower, and change—to give myself some time to calm down. But I can’t. I need answers. I need to know what gave her the idea to do this. What made her think she had the right to pillage my field this way. Without asking me. Without telling me.

This is the kind of thing you tell someone. No matter what. Instead, she let last night happen. She let it all play out like she wasn’t holding on to some massive secret about the damage she did.

The sound of the road under my tires grates on my nerves with each passing second, making the normally short trip between field and lab feel like I’m circumnavigating the earth. Each new thrum of my pulse in my ear feels like a tick of the countdown from an impending bomb. And no matter how much I tell myself to relax, it seems to have the opposite effect, making my heart speed up and punch harder against my rib cage.

It’s that indignation that’s currently holding me together. Without it, the rest of me might fall to pieces.

I swing the truck wide, pulling into the greenhouse parking lot and slamming my truck into park. It’s barely in gear before I’ve got the ignition off and I’m storming into the greenhouse. The humid air slams into me, slowing me down for a split second, but I press forward, pushing past my best friend, who is examining a new batch of tomatoes.

“Morning,” he calls after me when I don’t say anything. “Isn’t that what you were wearing yesterday?”

Seriously? He fucking noticed that?

I stop, turning around to look at him. Cary lifts an eyebrow, his dark hair perfectly in place as always. Uptight Cary Adler wouldn’t look any other way, even when working in a greenhouse.

“Did you know?” I ask, not bothering to hide any accusation from my voice.

Because it’s possible he did. He and Sawyer were together yesterday afternoon. They’ve become friends this summer as they’ve worked together in the lab. Fuck, he was the one who invited her here to begin with.

“Know what?” He squints, looking me up and down like yesterday’s clothes hold the answer. “Is this a trick question?”

I calm slightly, his initial reaction enough to convince me he wasn’t some weird co-conspirator. But only slightly.

“So you weren’t in on it?”

“I would have to know what it is…”

I huff, my anger rising up again. There isn’t time to explain. Someone owes me an explanation. And that someone is in the lab.

“Anton!” Cary calls as I storm off.

But I don’t stop. I keep moving, fueled by this fire and a need to know what happened.

The door hits the wall as it opens with a loud bang, one that reverberates through the lab, shaking everything inside, including the Rube Golberg along the side. A couple of dominos fall, but thankfully it doesn’t set off the whole chain reaction. That is the last thing I need right now.

Sawyer looks up from her computer, her bright brown eyes full of concern as they land on me.

“Anton,” she exclaims, pushing up from her chair. She gives me a once-over, registering what everyone else already has. “Is everything okay? What happened to heading home to shower and change?”

I step inside, blood rushing through me at an epic pace, only one question flowing through my mind.

“What the fuck did you do to my saplings?”

“What?”

I inhale deeply, hating that she’s playing dumb. Because Sawyer Brown is anything but.

“You heard me. What…the fuck…did you do with my saplings?”

“I moved them.”

Snap!

That’s all it takes. Three simple words. The dam breaks inside me and rage surges, a tidal wave of emotion taking over. She has to be fucking kidding me.

“You did what?”

Shifting her weight, Sawyer’s expression goes hard. She crosses her arms, squaring off like she’s ready for battle. One thing I know about Sawyer—she doesn’t back down.

“I moved them.”