Page 74

Jordan stands on the balls of his feet, stretching to scan over the tops of the looping branches. There are thorns big as guitar picks inches from us. “You haven't cut these in at least a year.”

I lick my lips with my heavy tongue. “Yeah.”

“It's a tough job. But I think a professional could clear it out in an hour or two.”

Air rushes into my throat; I choke. He squints at me, clearly concerned, as I struggle to say, “No, it's fine. Don't worry about it.”

“Let me arrange it for you.”

“I can't ask you to do that for me, Jordan.”

“I don't mind. Especially if it means you can access your kiln again. Is it me spending money that bothers you? I can do it myself for free. I've got the tools for it back at my place, you can watch me sweat in the sun.”

“Come on, let's go back inside.”

“Lorikeet.”

He speaks my name like he's praying. It quiets me, forces me to look into his eyes and witness his brutal compassion. It hurts to be cared for like this … because what he wants to do for me is kind, but it would destroy me. “Jordan, it's hard for me. That's all.”

“What's hard about me helping you?”

“No. Not …” Trailing off, I make myself peer through the roses. I try to see them and nothing else. My head is full of wretched images that fight for my attention. “My dad built that kiln for me. It reminds me of him.”

“I didn't know,” he whispers.

“There's a lot you don't know.”

Jordan extends his hands to me, guiding my stiff body until I'm resting against his chest. I lean into him, forehead on his collarbone, relieved not to look at the roses anymore. “I want to hear everything, Lorikeet. My greatest wish is to learn every part of you. Not just your body, your mind as well. The things you're afraid I won't love you for … because I promise, I will. Always.”

Love.

I breathe faster, my own hot air filling the gap between my cheek and his shirt.

Love. He said love. Did he MEAN love?

His fingers scoop under my chin, bringing me from the safety of his chest, demanding I see the seriousness that lives in his face. He whispers, “Did you hear me?”

“I don't think I did. Say it again.”

Jordan's mouth spreads wide, creases appear beside his sharp nose. “I will always love you. If I have to write it on your skin the way I did my name, ensuring you never forget, I'll do it. I'll tattoo it on myself if you ask.”

I'm lightheaded in his arms, the world forgotten around us. There's no floral scent to haunt me or sun to warm my flesh. Jordan is all I see. All I feel. And Istillcan't stop myself from asking, “Why?”

“Why?” he repeats, his chuckle viscous as pine sap. “Because you ruined my heart, Lorikeet. Took it and turned it inside out, covered it in your mess until I didn't recognize it anymore. That's when I saw it wasn't ruined at all.” He strokes a knuckle over my cheek. “You're an artist, you transform ugly things into masterpieces.”

“Jordan,” I hush.

“Whatever is keeping you from making this world more beautiful? I'll rip it to shreds.”

I try to hang my head, but he doesn't let me. I try to close my eyes and he tightens his hold on my jaw until I stare at him. Jordan refuses to let me escape. He demands I stayhere,in this moment, and accept what he's telling me.

I keep swallowing, it doesn't clear my throat. My voice comes out in a rasp. “The tiles in the kitchen. They cover holes my father made with his fists when he got angry.”

Jordan's eyes flare wide. “What? Lorikeet—”

“He wasn't always like that. His heart did the opposite of yours, I think. Started beautiful, twisted until it was rotten. He gave me that kiln before things got bad. Before he won that fucking lottery.”

My breath shudders through my lungs. It hurts to talk—I do it anyway. “Jordan, I'm not ready to go back in that shed. Not now. But I love that you care so much. I love … I love you.” My lips tremble as I finish the sentence. “But isn't this messed up?”