Page 98 of Knot the Last Chapter

“I’ll mention it in the acknowledgements,” she teases, eyes sparkling. “‘To Rhys, for falling on his ass in the name of storytelling.’”

Damn it. She has no idea how easily she twists me up. “You better.”

The garden is beautiful, even storm swept and still heavy with rain. I shine my flashlight over the path of flowers.

“They’re contained in a half wheelbarrow,” she says.

“I’ve never giving it much thought,” I admit. “The garden is eclectic.”

“Let’s see what’s under the flowers,” Tyler says, heading toward the helpless flowers like he intended to rip off their heads.

“Wait!” I say. “Grandfather wouldn’t have wanted us killing the flowers. He loved the gardens.”

“He’s right,” Corwyn says. “Let me see?”

“You’re such a dad,” Tyler mutters to me, but he steps aside for Corwyn.

Corwyn kneels and starts cleaning the barrel as best he can.

“Here,” he says. “Do you see that?” I lean in, and there’s a small rose etched into the barrel. It’s small, and even if we’d have seen it before, I’m not sure I’d have clued in.

“Behind it? It looks like the flower bed doesn’t actually go that deep.”

“Now can I smash stuff?” Tyler asks, and Lila giggles, enraptured in the mystery.

“Carefully,” I tell him. He grins, and pries a section of barrel loose, the crack of old wood splintering is enough to make my eye twitch.

Despite the rain, dust billows out, coating everything in that old-book smell, musty and warm. It feels like breathing in history.

Behind the torn piece of wood is a hollow spot, about the size of a shoebox.

Corwyn reaches in carefully and pulls out a small iron box, with a crown on it, and a combination.

We all go still.

Lila steps up and reaches out, fingers barely grazing the metal. “It’s beautiful.”

I look at her face—lit by the flashlight, full of awe—and something tightens in my chest. I don’t care about old mysteries. Not really. But I care about how her eyes light up when she’s chasing a mystery. I care about how she glows when she feels like she belongs.

And I hope she feels like she belongs here.

“Put the combination in, Lila,” Corwyn says.

“Are you sure?” She asks. We nod, and she puts it in, and opens the lid. Inside of it is an old brass key laid atop a green velvet padding.

Tyler whistles low. “So what the hell does it open?”

Lila straightens, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I think I know.”

I close the lid and tuck the box under my arm.

She hadn’t mentioned anything, but her family is coming for her, and our time is running out. Before dawn breaks, we’d solve this mystery, once and for all, and then, maybe, solve the mystery of Lila’s heart, too.

Chapter fifty-eight

Tyler

The air is still for the first time in what feels like forever.