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We spent the rest of the afternoon making flower crowns, woven from Hazel’s collection.
By the time Jordan returned to call the twins in for dinner, I had constructed matching headbands for the both of us and Hazel had returned with more armfuls of her grandmother’s flowers.
Jordan raised her brow at the display, folding her arms while the twins strutted up and down in their woven crowns. “Are those Sigrid’s hydrangeas?”
“Hazel thought they looked better this way.”
“Blaming the kid.” Jordan tsked, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “I thought you were above that, Miss Vincent.”
“Shut up and put this crown on your head.”
After finally convincing the twins to head inside, Jordan linked her arm with mine and insisted on an evening stroll. The sky was a hazy purple, washing the landscape with a pale, lavender hue. I let myself be led along the uneven pathway, our footsteps softened by a carpet of fallen leaves. The estate garden was enchanting, in a neglected sort of way, overgrown with vines and tangled foliage. The air was heavy with the scent of wildflowers and a slight breeze whispered through the drooping trees.
“You know, there are better ways to get revenge on Sigrid.” Jordan chuckled. Her flower crown sat crooked on her head and she grinned like a mischievous Peter Pan. “I don’t think convincing the twins to wage war on her hydrangeas is the best solution.”
I rolled my eyes, blowing air out of my cheeks. “For the last time, it was your unruly niece who decided to dig them up in the first place. I just made the most of the situation.”
We settled into a somewhat comfortable silence, meandering through the untamed foliage. Amidst the whimsical overgrowth of the secluded garden it was peaceful, but a score of emotions tumbled in my chest. Despite how close Jordan and I had become, there was something unspoken between us. If left unaddressed, I worried we would be forever entwined in a tender dance of uncertainty and longing.
A gentle breeze tousled my hair, causing the petals of my makeshift crown to rustle. I stole a sideways glance at Jordan, my heart pounding with a thousand unanswered questions. In the beginning, I had tried to convince myself that everything I was doing was for my own sake, to ensure that Jordan would continue to hold up her end of the deal.
While I didn’t doubt Jordan’s attraction to me, and god knows I couldn’t deny my attraction to her, it was her heart I was unsure of. Her body, I believed, she would give happily if I asked her to. But I was beginning to suspect that I wanted more than that.
The gentle squeeze of Jordan’s hand on my arm provided both solace and confusion. I dared not voice the depths of these feelings, not yet at least. I was still uncertain of how they would be received.
“Jordan, I–”
I wasn’t even sure what I planned on saying, but Jordan paused her step, hushing me with a frown. “My mother is calling. Apparently the twins are wreaking havoc in the kitchen.”
“Is that telepathy or something?” I let go of her arm, my feelings stamped down for the time being.
Jordan tapped her ear with a smirk. “Nope, just these. Vampires have much better hearing than your kind.” Her face fell and she grimaced. “One of them just broke a plate. I’m sorry, I’ll meet you back at the house.”
And just like that she was gone, leaving me with my heart still fisted in my hand.
Unwilling to return to the chaos just yet, I wandered deeper into the garden, guided only by the barely visible footpath. A part of me had wondered if moving to the mansion had been Jordan’s way of opening her world to me. But the longer I spent there, the more it became clear that Jordan needed me for political reasons, wanted me for… other reasons.
But the problem with a charismatic vampire who wore her heart on her sleeve meant that I had no way of knowing if she was flirting with me for the hell of it or if there was something deeper between us.
I wanted to believe that she could feel the same unshakable connection that I did. Sometimes I thought she might, but other times my own feelings of inferiority got the best of me. But there was always a chance…
I felt foolish for entertaining these thoughts and took my frustration out on the sticks and stones beneath my feet.
Lost in my tumultuous thoughts, I turned a corner and nearly walked right into the lurking, decrepit figure amidst the unruly greenery.
Startled, I found myself face to face with an old man, his weathered face etched and creased like he too had just been dug up from the earth. He wore a threadbare hat, and his tattered clothes blended seamlessly with the faded beauty of the garden.
A suspicious glee flickered in his darting eyes as he straightened his stooped posture. “Ah, you must be Sky Vincent. We haven’t had another human on the premises in years.”
“Yeah, that’s me…” I regarded the strange man with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. “Uh, who are you?”
“Resident gardener,” he stated proudly, folding his crooked arms and eyeing me from under the drooping brim of his hat. Try as I might, I couldn’t get a read on the guy, but something about him made me uncomfortable.
“I didn’t realize anyone tended to this garden.” I folded my arms in response, brushing my hands over the goosebumps that bloomed there. “It kinda looks like it’s been left to nature’s whims.”
A wry smile crept across the old man’s face and something foul curdled in my stomach.
“Ah, nature has her own way of tending to things, my dear.” His cryptic words did nothing to remedy my unease. “Sometimes, it’s best to let the wild things in.”
