The shadows recede, unwinding from his limbs, giving us space to collapse in the afterglow.
We sink to the greenhouse floor in a heap of sweat and limbs, petals clinging to skin. Levi trembles in my arms, eyes dazed, still dripping with cum. And I swear the stars above have never burned so bright. Like they finally recognize me after all this time.
Under their light, with him warm in my arms, I don’t feel forgotten. I feel kept.
21
Levi
The following morning,my parents drive off in a cloud of dust, promising to visit more often. Promises we all know will likely dissolve before the next road sign. The silence that follows isn’t sad. Just bittersweet, the way departures always are.
Naomi appears with an armful of unruly ranunculus. “You okay?”
I give a soft chuckle, heading back to the counter. “Naomi, no therapist voice required. My parents visit like a migratory bird pattern.”
Her lips curve into a smile. “Well, it was either that or suggest tequila, and considering you’re my boss…”
“Wise choice,” I say, leaning against the counter, though a tequila shooter wouldn’t be unwelcome right now. “But I appreciate the effort regardless.”
She nods, glancing at our wall calendar. “Speaking of, it’s still okay that I come with you tomorrow night?”
I stare blankly at her.
Naomi sighs. “The Small Business Association dinner? You said I could help pitch. Is any of this reallynotringing a bell…”
Fuck. I’d completely forgotten. Between my parents’ visit and a certain broody ex-god with distracting shadows, it had slipped my mind…along with half the paperwork I said I’d finish last night.
I groan, dragging a hand through my hair. “Ugh. I can’t believe I forgot. Thanks for saving my ass.”
“Job description,” she says, eyes twinkling. “Right between ‘organizing floral arrangements,’ ‘grant babysitting,’ and ‘managing boss’s calendar.’ ”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re too young to already be this snarky.”
But Naomi shrugs. “Old soul. And besides, the town council’s still teetering on funding, so you need all the help you can get.”
She’s not wrong. Between delayed permits, donor ghosts, and my growing caffeine addiction, we’ve hit snag after snag with getting this garden officially off the ground. And if I have to endure an evening schmoozing the heavy hitters of Stonevale on my knees with Naomi as my very patient wing woman, I’ll do it.
“You’re right,” I concede. “I’ll charm them into submission.”
“Ew,” she says, making a face of disgust. “Speaking of charming, will a certain funeral director be accompanying you to said painfully small-town-event soirée?”
My heart trips, a flutter soft and careful beneath my ribs. “I don’t think he’d wan—”
“Levi Wilder, that man would endure an entire town council meeting dedicated exclusively to zoning permits if it meant you were there.”
I laugh quietly at the thought of Hayden sitting through a town council meeting as Mr. Haverford drones on and on about Stonevale city limits.
So, before I can overthink it, my phone is already in my hand.
Me:Hey you. There’s this painfully boring small town business dinner thing tomorrow night. Up for enduring forced socialization for the greater garden good with me?
A quiet beat of anticipation buzzes through me. Then, his reply pings, right on cue.
Hayden:For you? I’ll survive.
My chest tightens, warmth flooding my veins. A tiny ridiculous flutter: Surviving with me feels like choosing me.
Naomi’s brow quirks. “See? Told you.”
