Page 140 of The Other Side

“They’d think we’d escaped from somewhere.”

“They’d remember the garden centre.”

Osian couldn’t argue with that.

They reached the house and Drum leaned against the door frame while Osian fished for the key.

“So,” Drum said. “You grow the plants. I’ll keep them alive by maintaining a respectful distance, but I’ll give them names.”

“Fine.”

The key turned. The cottage door creaked open.

“Home, for now,” Drum said. “But one day there’ll be another door we’ll open into a greenhouse that’s catching the morning sun. Rows of seedlings will be waiting patiently for your careful hands. Customers will wander about, filling their baskets or trolleys. And somewhere behind the till, a fern called Fearne is waiting to be chosen for her new home.”

Osian slipped his hand back into Drum’s. “I think we’ll make a good team.”

Drum smiled as he closed the door and pulled off his T-shirt. “Even with my history of botanical crime?”

“Every garden needs one person who knows how things grow and one person to remind everyone what happens if you don’t read the watering instructions.”

Drum laughed and unfastened Osian’s jeans. “Do I need to interview for that position?”

“Most definitely.”

Drum dropped to his knees and pulled down Osian’s jeans and underwear.

“The job is yours,” Osian said and groaned as he felt Drum’s lips wrap around him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Today, Drum was going to Faeryland with Osian, and his stomach was in knots. Osian had made the trip once on his own since the dust settled, and Drum had hated every lonely moment of his absence. He’d tried to drown his anxiety in floor plans and garden centre schematics. Mikkel had sworn planning permission was a sure thing, and when agreement was given, at a speed Drum knew was impossible, work had begun. Planning permission never came that quickly, but somehow it had.

“All packed?” Osian asked.

Drum nodded.

Osian flipped a ten pence coin across the room and Drum snatched it out of the air.

“What’s that for?”

“Do that trick.”

Drum frowned. “What’s the red dot on the coin?”

“An experiment. Make it dance.”

Drum let the coin weave over and under his fingers, speed building until the metal became a blur. He flipped it high and traced its path down, but when his hand closed to catch it, the coin was gone.

“Damn it,” Drum muttered, dropping to his knees. After a moment or two, he gave up. “So you think it will be on The Other Side?”

“Maybe.”

They had a lot to carry, flowers for the Queen, armfuls of presents for Osian’s family. Outside their house, the barely-there shorts faery was waiting by a four-seater ATV. Their name was Zeon. Getting to know Zeon had been a slow process, but Mikkel’s decision to put them behind the wheel for Sparlow’s off-road runs had given them a sense of purpose. Currently sporting electric-pink hair, Zeon had opened up a little lately. They even flashed occasional smiles.

As Drum and Osian hauled the luggage out the front door, Zeon leaned against the frame. “Need a hand?”

“We’re fine, thanks,” Drum said, hoisting a heavy bag onto the rack. Most of the things went inside the vehicle with them. The flowers sat on Drum’s knee.