Page 98 of Good Directions

“You didn’t exactly bring it up again either,” he says. “And I didn’t hear you complaining about how last night went.”

Flashes of red cloud my vision, my fists balling by my side as my anger rises. Anton looks perfectly calm, other than the vein still pulsing on his neck. Maybe it’s somehow related to his love of pushing other people’s buttons that he’s learned to remain even-keeled himself, but I have to admit, it’s unnerving. Especially given how cold his eyes are.

“That’s low.”

“Not as low as you messing with our trees.”

“I didn’t mess with your trees! For the last fucking time!” I stomp my foot down hard, like a horse getting ready to rear backward. “And what did you expect me to do when you said I had free rein? Just sit here?”

“You should have stayed in the lab, Sawyer,” Anton accuses. The jab pierces straight through me, like a dagger to my heart. I steel myself, not letting it show how much it hurt. That it might be the deepest anyone has ever cut me. Until he continues. “You think you know better than everyone.”

“Because I do.”

“But you don’t! You know lab tests and bar charts and numbers. You don’t actually know the real part of any of this. Just the theoretical. And because of that, I’ve lost two years’ worth of growth. All for your inconclusive tests.”

I reel back, tears stinging my eyes. I want to reply—to bite back something equally as harsh and hurtful. Something that will cut him to the point of wanting to double over in pain. But I can’t. Mostly because I can’t form the words, my throat so dry it feels like someone shoved a wad of cotton down it.

“Inconclusive?” Cary’s voice cuts through the air, pulling both my and Anton’s attention toward the lab door. “I thought you needed to go back out today before you could fully compare.”

“So you did know,” Anton says, turning on his best friend.

“Is this the it you were asking about?” Cary asks, hitching a thumb over his shoulder toward the greenhouse. “Then yeah, I knew. Sawyer called from the sapling grove and I walked her through how to do what she needed to with as little damage as possible. Told her to make sure Calvin and Jorge were with her, since they were the ones who could operate the machinery and would know where in the auxiliary greenhouse to put the saplings.”

I put my hands on my hips, glaring at Anton, holding in my “told you so.” Which isn’t easy right now. Because I know more than he thinks I do. I also wouldn’t dare risk hurting the crops, Hayes, or him. Especially him.

“It was just the one section of the front corner there,” Cary continues. “That was the safest space to disturb without disrupting the majority of the trees. It looks worse than it is.”

Cary’s assessment doesn’t seem to assuage Anton’s ire. My eyes flick back and forth between the two, the swapping of roles between them more than a little off-putting. Watching Cary being the more laid-back one while Anton is uptight and up in arms is…well…not good. Alarming even.

Even if it is proving that I’m not the one in the wrong here.

“See, I know more than you think,” I jab back. It lacks conviction and the same poison that Anton lobbed at me, but it’s something.

Cary looks between us, the tension so thick you’d need a jackhammer to break it, and nods as he slowly backs out of the lab.

“I’ll leave y’all to it.”

Neither of us moves, letting the silence hang heavy in the air, the metal of the door clanging against the jamb as it closes behind Cary. I’m too afraid to move, to say something, not having any idea where we stand. What any of this means. A part of me wants to rage and scream at Anton for thinking any of this, for coming in here and accusing me. While another part wants to run into his arms and cry, stay there until everything is okay.

It’s the second part that worries me the most.

“Told you I didn’t put them at risk,” I finally say, breaking the silence.

“Doesn’t change anything,” he replies, teeth gritted.

What? I blink hard, trying to figure out what on earth he means by that. How he could still be convinced otherwise.

“What are you saying?”

“Just that it makes me wonder if I made a mistake in trusting you. In letting you into Hayes and messing with our product.”

The pain in his voice is crystal clear. The anguish that only comes with deep-rooted distress over something you love. Love more than anything else.

Because Anton loves those trees more than anything else.

More than he could ever love anything else. They’re his life. He outright told me that. It’s why he doesn’t date—because he will never love a woman the way he loves the three Ps.

That’s when it hits me. This isn’t about the trees. At least, not just about the trees. It’s about the fact that I messed with his world. With what he loves the most.