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He doesn’t answer.

“KAI!”

His eyes meet mine. “Roots.”

“Get them off me!”

“They aren’t hurting you.”

“I DON’T CARE!”

One curls around my thigh. Another around my ankle. Not tight. Almost gentle.

Which is worse.

Then something brushes against the center of my palm.

I look down just as a tiny green shoot breaks through the soil between my fingers.

Before I can pull my hand away, it grows.

The stem stretches upward as leaves unfold from its sides, rising past my wrist, then my forearm.

Six inches.

A foot.

Two.

I stare at it, my brain taking entirely too long to accept what’s growing right in front of me.

Corn.

A fucking corn stalk just grew between my hands.

Rhett stares. “That’s new.”

I whip my head toward him. “RHETT.”

“Sorry.”

The stalk doesn’t stop growing.

Tassels unfurl at the top while an ear begins to form along the side, swelling beneath layers of green husk.

Right in front of us.

In seconds.

Impossible.

The ears grow heavier, the husk stretching tighter around whatever is forming inside.

Then it splits.

Slowly.

My breath catches as leaves peel back.