Page 63 of A Secret In The Garden

This was too much. Everything I’d been carrying began to topple down. All of the frustration, anger, and sadness I’d tamped down came flooding back, buzzing under my skin like a thousand bees waiting to sting. I was angrier than I’d ever been and had nowhere to channel it. My body trembled as the sound of my loud gasps clapped through the silence of the room. I was hyperventilating, and as angry as I was, I still couldn’t seem to make the tears stop flowing from my dry, blurry eyes, which only made me angrier.

There was no way I could go to dinner with Jasper now, not like this.

Angrily, I dug through my plastic clothes basket on the floor until I found a white cotton tank top and a pair of shorts. I took off my bathrobe and put the pajamas on while disappointment curled around me. I had wanted to do dinner so bad, but now I couldn’t. Everything flowed so easily with Jasper that I couldn’t keep myself together around him, and right now, I was so full of barely restrained anger that I would probably end up crying the whole time.

I grabbed my phone and texted Jasper, apologizing and telling him something had come up.

Not even five minutes later, there was a loud knock on my door. I braced myself and realized I was waiting to hear my mother’s voice. I stopped my angry pacing to run to the door and try and look through the crack. It wouldn’t be her; she couldn’t have made it that quickly, but I still panicked.

“Eliza, let me in. Are you okay? What happened?” Jasper called, banging loudly again. Each knock shook the walls, making the old paintings tremble as they hung.

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to pull myself together enough to deal with him. “I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” My voice was low and surprisingly a little threatening. I couldn’t help it. Things were impossible to mask with him.

“What happened? Is it your mom?” he said more gently.

I rolled my eyes again and looked down at my outfit. You could see the pigment of my nipples through the fabric. It was so worn and dingy. I opened the door and poked my head out, keeping my body hidden behind it. I needed to get rid of him so I could curl up and cry.

“Nothing happened. I’m fine,” I growled at him. Of course, he had on a fresh outfit with black dress pants and a crisp, dark hunter-green dress shirt that made his brown hair and eyes pop against his tanned skin. For some unknown reason, seeing him standing outside my door looking so fucking hot made me even more mad. I glared at him and moved to shove the door closed on him.

A surprised expression blanketed his face before he blocked it, easily pushing the door open and slipping through so fast that I slammed it closed behind him when I shoved at it again.

“You’re not fine. What’s going on?” His eyes darted over my body, looking for clues. When they found nothing, they returned to my eyes, chaotically dancing as he gathered information and tried to figure out what had happened.

“Sure, come right on in.” I waved my hand dramatically. “Not like I have a say in anything anyway,” I snapped. I wasn’t angry at him. “Aaagh!” I growled. “I’m sorry. I’m just angry and upset, and if you stay, I will take it out on you. I can’t do dinner right now.”

He appraised me for another silent minute, as though deciding if he should leave. He let out a sigh and straightened his posture.

“Want to shoot or stab something? I’ll let you in the addition,” he asked gently.

“No,” I snapped. I couldn’t believe I was turning down seeing the secret weapons lair, but honestly Katya saw it the other day and told me it was way more boring than what we’d thought—a room with weapons. Shocker.

“Okay,” he said, taking a stiff seat on the edge of my bed.

“Okay, what?” I nearly yelled. Having him on my bed did not guide my lonely, upset brain to any smart distractions.

His eyes roamed over my body, snagging on my very visible nipples before landing on my eyes. “You can take it out on me. I’m ready. Give me your best shot—are we talking physical or mental?” he asked, standing back up and suavely removing his jacket before rolling up the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. His large arms rippled against the snug dress shirt with the movement.

I sat back on my heels and gawked, temporarily frozen. “You’re going to let me hit you?”

“If it will make you feel better, though I’d rather you just talk to me and tell me what happened,” he said.

“I’m not going to hit you; I’m so frustrated and hurt and angry, and damn it, Jasper, I don’t want to get into all of this with you. You won’t understand, no one ever understands, they think I’m being a sheltered baby,” I shouted.

His jaw tightened. “Your mother. What’s she done now, sold you off to make mulch for the environment? All right, all right,” he said when I glared at him.

“I don’t understand it. I don’t know why I can’t fucking talk to her like I talk to you. Every time I try, I end up crying. Ugh!” I snarled and returned to pacing the room just to get the angry feeling out of my legs. “I’m so angry, I feel like I’m going to combust.”

“Go on the balcony,” he said as he walked over and began to push the small Victorian couch away from where it blocked the double doors.

What the fuck was he doing? “I’m not going on the balcony,” I said, shaking my head and stepping backward.

“Afraid I’ll push you over the ledge?” he asked sarcastically, but his careful words were unable to hide a hint of vulnerability.

Our eyes locked for a long minute. He actually wanted to know if I was afraid of him and that was his way of asking.

“No. I trust you,” I said finally—a revelation to myself as well as him.

A thread of relief filled his eyes, and back was the overly confident bad boy. “Now, why would you do something that?” His voice was low and raspy. He slowly walked to me, stopping when he was right in front of me.