Page 33 of Marrying the Gardener (The Bachelor Brothers #3)

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The price of freedom.

Crimson

In days, if everything goes to plan, I’ll be free. In days. Mere…days.

The thick scent of rubbing alcohol burns my nose as I close the hospital room door behind me.

I’m the last in a series of goodbyes, and I’m not entirely sure why I’m bothering.

I don’t know if my grandfather cares to see me.

I don’t know if I truly care to see him, or if some sort of twisted obligation propelled me to raise my hand when my father asked if there was anyone else who wanted their time.

Despite the open windows on the other side of the room, it’s dark and cold in here. A cabinet holding a dormant TV rests across from the bed, which has a single chair beside it.

I approach that chair and silently slip down against the plastic seat.

“You look like your mother,” my grandfather murmurs.

I bite my lip to hold my emotions at bay. It’s not often I hear anything about my mother, and my grandfather is the last person I’d expect to bring her up.

He continues, “She was a terrible match for Jared. I said so. But he didn’t want to listen to me about it. He didn’t want to marry someone in our social class. And look where it got him.” My grandfather takes a labored breath. “Now…look at you…following in your father’s footsteps.”

My flesh bristles at the mere notion, and I lower my eyes in case hatred sparks in them.

“I like Kaleb. Bright boy. He’s gonna go places, so don’t you hold him back, you hear me?”

Rage simmers, complicated, subdued. Why did I come in here? Do I really like abuse that much? Swallowing hard, I say, “I’ll support him. However I can. I promise.”

Gold catches in the dim light when my grandfather smiles, and he reaches a weak hand out to pat mine.

“You’re the only girl in my family who came to say goodbye to me during these past weeks, Crimson.

” His eyes glass as his smile teeters and falls.

“None of my daughters care about me. None of their son’s wives ever considered me as their grandfather.

But Jared raised you well. With respect. ”

Because respect in the form of submission is all women are good for according to you.

“When my great grandbaby comes, you raise him right, too. Stay in shape. Eat healthy.” He grips my hand. “Do not abandon Kaleb like your mother abandoned your father.”

My lashes flutter, damp, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

I’m not delusional enough to believe my father loved my mother in any way that mattered.

At no point in my childhood did he ever speak kindly of her.

She was weak, because she died doing the one thing women are born to do.

I was given no time to want a mother. I was reminded—often—that Ava was not my mother, even if she was the one who fed and clothed me.

Still, the idea of abandoning someone strikes something and hurts . “I won’t,” I whisper.

He nods, sharply. “He’s a good man. And behind every good man is a good woman.

You’re not too sensitive. You know how to take a joke.

You’re kind and nurturing. You’re a good woman, Crimson.

Stay behind him. Be his strength. Raise a family.

Know that as far as I’m concerned—” He dips his head toward my midsection.

“—my legacy continues with you. Yours is the only line of the Nightingale name that I claim. Do me proud.”

Do him proud.

By standing in the shadow of someone we both met a month ago?

All the men in my family really, really have a funny sense of pride .

Nevertheless, I rise, bend, and touch a kiss to his forehead, murmuring, “I will.”

His smile as I turn to leave is the last expression I will ever see on his face. And I am certain it will haunt me.

Footsteps heavy, I make my way through the sterile halls, toward where my family is gathered. Locating Kaleb, I approach, glance down at the small book in his hand. He must’ve had it before, but I don’t remember him holding it until now. “What’s that?” I ask, and my voice cracks.

Dropping his attention, he looks at the colorful cover, lifts it, drops it back against his other hand and flips through it. “Uh.” He swallows, clears his own throat, scans the half-done puzzles on some of the pages. “Sudoku. Your grandfather gave it to me.”

“Oh.”

Kaleb forces a tight smile. “Said he’d like me to finish it.”

“Why would he do that?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I guess I was the only one who knew he liked them. He mentioned it one time when I called. So I started asking him how his sudokus were going.” He frees a breath. “It’d make him laugh.”

“You’d…call him?”

“Yeah. Most mornings for the past few weeks. Just to talk. See how he was feeling. Get my sudoku update.” Closing the book, he drops it to his side, pulls me into his arms, and mutters a curse, “—ing humans.”

That snaps the dam inside, and a tear races down my cheek. Fricken humans, indeed.

Wrapping my arms around Kaleb, I squeeze.

In days, I’ll be free.

If everything goes to plan, a human will have died—so that I might finally get to live.