Page 4

Two years ago, after I left the hospital, Pru and Cal made it their mission to include me more and spend time with me. Cain always came along for the ride and did his best to ignore me. But ever since the greenhouse, things have changed. Cain smiles when I meet him here, engages in my conversation, and even kisses me goodbye. Today he brought me a pinecone from his morning hike, and it might be the best present I’ve ever received.

“Who's your friend?” A growly voice comes from the doorway. Cain shoots out of his seat to face his father. Alastair is tall like Cain, lean and muscular. He always smiles and is pleasant when I see him, but something about Cain is unsettling. Cain’s chest and shoulders rise and fall at a quickened pace; his hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles are nearly turning white. And he steps over, standing directly between me and Alastair.

“She’s not a friend; I just need to supervise the room while she’s here…” My heart sinks, and my hands go cold. Not his friend? W-why?

Alastair peeks around Cain’s shoulder to get a look at me, his smile broadening.

“Don’t be silly, Cain, I know Miss Daily. Good morning, Violet.”

“Good morning, Mr. Powers, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” He looks back at Cain, giving him a once-over, his smile never fading. “I’ll leave you kids be. You two have fun now; she’s a lovely girl, Cain.”

Cain’s fist somehow tightens even more, his arms vibrating with tension. He watches his father walk through the hallway and out of sight before making a move for the door. He shuts and locks it before turning back to me.

“Don’t let him see you,” his clipped words and the ticking of his jaw draw me in. Is he angry? Scared?

“Why?” Cain reaches me in a few strides, placing one hand on the armrests on either side of me. He leans down, stopping only a few inches from my face.

“I need to keep us a secret from him. Don’t let him see you.” Us. So maybe he just lied to his father, if he’s saying there is an us.

A secret? I want there to be an us; these past few weeks have been everything to me. But is there really an us if I’m kept a secret from those in his life?

“I’m not going to be anyone’s secret,” I say with as much composure as I can muster, fighting the pressure building behind my eyes. He swallows, and I swear I can see his eyes glistening, his own tears threatening to pour over the brim. But then he growls and pushes himself off the chair, sending me so that I nearly fall backwards. My breath quickens from the startle, and I take in the sight of Cain. He’s angry.

“Then we can’t be anything!” He bites out before turning on his heel and leaving, shutting the door behind him. My jaw trembles, tears flowing down my cheeks. It’s over when it had barely begun. It’s been just a few weeks, so why does it hurt this much? I feel too nauseous to continue, so I put the quilt, thread, and pattern away, slip the pinecone in my dress pocket, and go home.

Cats don’t let you sleep in. Ever. Snowdrop is lucky that I love him so much; otherwise, I may have kicked him out of my room and stayed in. There’s something about crying yourself to sleep that drains you and makes you want to sleep in. Now that I’ve fed him, he weaves in and around my feet in a figure eight, rubbing on me and purring like she didn’t jump onto my stomach this morning, sending me into a ball as I heaved.

He comforted me until I fell asleep. Nuzzling me with his white-spotted nose as I ran my fingers through his long, thick hair.

He’s probably the only one left in the world who loves me.

The sun is up, I’d say around seven. I guess she didn’t wake me up that early.

My ears prick up at something. A knock? It might not be too early for Snowdrop to expect breakfast, but I would say it is too early for someone to call. I open the door before they wake Uncle, it’s the runner from the Powers’.

“Violet?”

“Yes?”

“For you.” He hands me a small envelope and heads back down the road.

There’s no writing, just a simple white envelope. My heart quickens, and I rush to use my nail to tear it open. I slip out a small card and a sprig of thyme.

V,

I wish I could tell you what’s going on. Everything is so fucked up… I’m fucked up. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry.

You will always be my Flower in the rain,

C

Cain, Age 20

Chapter 4

At this point, my obsession with this girl might be the least healthy thing I’ve been dealing with. Friends and family wouldn’t notice; even those who know me best don’t see how unyielding things have gotten. They see the weight loss and how I’ve been living in my studio. Producing chaotic painting after chaotic painting and not allowing anyone to see any of them. Although Pru broke the lock on the door one day and snooped. She found it all. The sketches, the paintings, the charcoal drawings I’ve spent hours on. She’s seen all the art I created in the image of Violet. Of my muse.