Page 20 of Call It Love (Sterling Mill #5)

“Come on. Let’s go make sure Dolly and Martha haven’t broken through the fence again and eaten our dinner plans.”

The sun was warm on my back as I tugged at a few stubborn weeds. Jordan worked beside me, pulling some dead leaves off the tomato plants. He didn’t seem withdrawn, just quietly content.

“You’re good at this,” I commented, sitting up and brushing the dirt from my fingers. “Have you done much gardening before?”

He took some time to answer, then nodded. “I used to help my mom. ”

“What did she like to grow?”

“Just the usual stuff. Tomatoes, peppers, lettuce. She liked salads until…”

He didn’t need to finish. Until she grew too sick to stomach them, I guessed.

I didn’t want to push. “It’s nice to have someone to share this chore with. I’m sure you have lovely memories of helping her.”

For a moment, there was nothing. Then a single tear slid down his cheek.

My heart ached for him. “Honey, you don’t have to say anything,” I said, while offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “But if you want to tell me more about her, I’d love to hear it.”

He didn’t answer, just swiped his cheek quickly with the back of his hand and focused on the plant in front of him.

I didn’t press. I turned to the rosemary, thinning it out and pruning some wild growth.

“She liked to hum when she worked,” he blurted, his voice low, a mixture of pain and warmth. “Said it helped her concentrate.”

I turned my attention back to him but kept my tone easy. “What kind of music? Like the band on the shirt you wore?”

He gave a quick nod. “She’d listen to anything, actually.

Just depended on her mood. Sometimes gospel.

Other days alternative. A lot of stuff she grew up with.

” He shifted so that he was sitting in the dirt.

“We didn’t have a garden this big, though.

” His eyes scanned over the neat rows of vegetables and herbs.

“She wasn’t the best at it. But she liked flowers.

She always had them hanging in baskets and in front of our house. ”

I stored that tidbit to share with Chase. Maybe he could let Jordan help in the greenhouses more.

“What was her favorite flower?” I asked.

He looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. She liked anything colorful, especially purple or red, I guess. Bright colors.”

“Sounds like someone who appreciated life.”

Jordan continued to stare at the ground, then at me. His face was drawn. “She was a good mom. Is it bad that I don’t know her favorite flower?”

This kid was going to break my heart.

“No, sweetheart,” I said, keeping my tone gentle. “You know what made her happy. That you enjoyed spending time with her. You remember the important things. That’s love, and that’s what you’ll carry with you.”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw eased, and his shoulders dropped, and I had hope that he believed me.

The clink of the gate opening and shutting sounded, and I looked up to see Chase walking toward us.

“This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to find you guys out here,” he said with a grin. His eyes flicked to Jordan, then back to me, his forehead furrowed.

I shook my head slightly. “I’ll tell you later,” I mouthed.

“Hey, bud. Good to see you,” he said to the teen.

Jordan wouldn’t meet Chase’s eyes. “Just helping.”

Chase didn’t push. “You picked a good day. There’s chicken potpie on the horizon.”

I pulled out my phone and saw what time it was.

“I didn’t realize it was so late,” I said, standing to dust my hands. “I need to clean up before I get dinner.”

“Been looking forward to it all day,” Chase said.

I turned to Jordan. “Feel like learning how to make a chicken potpie? ”

Jordan nodded slowly, his eyes flicking to Chase with uncertainty.

Chase caught it immediately. “The more hands, the faster we eat,” he said.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of helping,” I warned Chase.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Never.”

We made our way into the house, cleaned up, and got started on dinner.

I handed Jordan a knife, a cutting board, and a pile of carrots and demonstrated how to clean them and cut them into nice, even pieces.

Then, I tried to show Chase how to roll out the crust. He wielded the rolling pin like he had a vendetta against the dough.

“Gentle,” I scolded. “You’re not rolling out Play-Doh. And the crust should be round, not…whatever shape that is.”

Chase gave me a mock scowl. “Thanks, Martha Stewart.”

I started to laugh, but almost immediately it caught in my throat.

That look—the glare, the frown, how he used a cool tone. Teasing or not, it hit me wrong. Too close to how Mason used to look before the verbal lashings started.

You’re such an ungrateful little bitch.

You don’t contribute anything to this relationship.

You’re impossible to be around.

How many times have I told you not to tell me what to do?

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, stepping back. “You’re doing fine. I didn’t mean to be bossy or ungrateful for your help.”

“Whoa. Hey,” Chase interrupted, catching the shift. He tried to capture my hands, but I took another step backward, swallowing hard.

“No, really. I didn’t mean to criticize. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” I said. My voice trembled, and tears stung the back of my eyes. Don’t cry. Not in front of Jordan.

Chase stepped toward me slowly, his hands out and his voice steady. “Anna. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I tried to focus on his voice. On his words. Tried to override the memory pressing in around the edges of my mind.

“You teased me. It’s okay. I’m not mad. Not even a little. I promise.” He closed the distance, carefully placing his hands over mine. “You’re safe with me. Always.”

I looked at him. There was no cruel twist to his mouth, no bite in his voice, or hardness in his eyes. Just patience and kindness. And maybe a little of something else that was too soon to name. But it worked. It calmed me.

“Okay.” I let out a breath I’d been holding and glanced at Jordan. He kept his eyes on the carrots, but his frown gave him away. He’d noticed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Chase bumped my shoulder with his. “No more apologies.”

“I’m sor—” I caught myself and gave a slight shake of my head. “Okay.”

Chase smirked. “Guess I’ll need to practice rolling out dough more. Which means more pies in our future.”

A future. With Chase.

That sounded better than any pie I could bake.