Chapter nine

Poppy

“Be brutally honest,”

Rowan said, pressing her palms on the dining room table.

Theo picked up a piece of baklava and studied it before taking a bite. He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan, and thank the stars Rowan made me put on this sweater because there was no way my nipples were calming down before he opened his eyes.

I may or may not have suggested the baklava to my sister. Theo seemed so nostalgic this morning, and I thought maybe he’d like a taste of something from his childhood. If I’d known how hot he’d look eating a pastry, I might have spared myself.

“It’s delicious,”

he said, licking a drop of honey from his full lips.

“Of course it is,”

I said. “Rowan threw out two batches before this one. She wasn’t going to let you try anything that wasn’t amazing.”

“Be honest though,”

Rowan said. “Does it taste like what you’ve had in Greece?”

“Close,”

he said, putting the rest of the piece in his mouth and chewing it slowly. “It’s a little too sweet. Did you use lemon or orange zest?”

“Neither,”

Rowan said, frowning.

I picked up a piece and shoved it in my mouth. My sister did the same.

“Yeah, I can see how zest would balance the flavor,”

she said after a few chews. “Which is better? Orange or lemon?”

Theo laughed, the sound so deep and rich I squirmed in my seat and crossed my legs to relieve some of the pressure that started building the moment he walked through the door.

“That’s up for debate,”

he said. “Mana swears by oranges, but Thia Eleni always made it with lemon. She said you needed a bigger bite to cut the sweetness.”

He looked at the plate of baklava and all the mirth drained from his face.

I wanted to pull him into a hug, but judging by how fast he’d jumped away from me in the kitchen, he didn’t want me near him. I shot my sister a worried glance. Being the perfect person she was, she’d already reached over and grabbed his hand.

“How much zest would I use for a batch this size?”

she asked softly, giving his hand a single squeeze and dropping it. Just enough to show she cared, but not enough to embarrass him.

“Mana used one orange. I suppose you’d use the same with a lemon, but I never watched Thia Eleni make hers.”

“Which did you like better?” I asked.

“I’ve always preferred my sweets with a little bite.”

The way he looked at me when he said it was so hot, I considered opening the window and sticking my head out into the ice storm to cool off.

“Um, so lemon then,”

Rowan said, her cheeks flushed. “More coffee, Theo? Poppy, come help me get Theo more coffee.”

She grabbed my arm and yanked me from my chair before he had time to answer.

“Holy pheromones,”

she said, grabbing an oven mitt as soon as we reached the kitchen and fanning herself. “No way you two aren’t sleeping together. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because there’s nothing to tell. We’re just friends.”

“Who bang,”

she shouted.

I slapped my hand over her mouth. “Quiet. I don’t need Mom or Theo hearing you. No one is banging except you and Cal. I mean, unless Lauren and Aiden have indulged in a hate fuck or two and kept it to themselves.”

“Oh,”

Rowan said when I took my hand from her mouth. “Why not?”

“Just drop it, please.”

I pulled another mug from the cabinet since Rowan had failed to grab Theo’s in her dash to the kitchen. I wished I knew why Theo didn’t want to move from friends to more. Every reason I could think of felt like a kick to the crotch. Maybe he simply didn’t find me attractive, though that little voice in my head was getting easier to ignore since everyone around us thought otherwise. More likely, he didn’t see me as someone he could be in a committed relationship with, and since he was straightedge and didn’t believe in friends with benefits, we were just friends. I got it. Sort of. I could be a bitch at times. I wouldn’t want to date me either.

Just as I started to pour the coffee, something cracked outside, followed by a boom so loud the floor shook.

“Crap,”

I said, spilling hot coffee on my hand. The lights flickered and died.

Rowan grabbed my arm. “What was that?”

“Poppy, Rowan,”

Theo shouted in the other room. The swinging door creaked opened before either of us could answer.

“We’re fine,”

I said. I fumbled around with my stinging hand to set down the coffee pot on the counter. A moment later I felt Theo’s large hand on my shoulder.

“Girls, Chris,”

Mom yelled. We heard a thump and then a “son of biscuit”

before the door swung open so hard it slammed into the wall.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out Mom’s outline in the doorway, and Theo standing between my sister and me with a hand on each of our shoulders.

“We’re OK,”

Rowan said.

“Oh, thank goodness,”

Mom yelled. She ran to Theo, threw her arms around his waist, and hugged him from behind.

Rowan and I started laughing.

“Cal?”

Mom asked.

“It’s Theo, Rose,”

he said. “Chris is at Cal’s.”

“Oh, I’m glad you’re all OK,”

she said, finally dropping her arms. “I wasn’t sure if the tree hit the house too.”

“What else did it hit?”

Rowan asked, but before Mom answered, I knew. I took off out the back door, ignoring the sting of the ice against my bare feet. Instead of fighting to keep my balance, I intentionally slid, the rough ice cutting my skin.

“Stop,”

Theo yelled behind me, but I kept going to edge of the yard where a large oak had crashed into the studio.

I lunged toward the wreckage, but a pair of arms wrapped around me. “Come inside, Poppy,”

he said, softly, pulling me against him.

“Let me go,” I yelled.

“At least put these on,”

Rowan said, dropping a pair of boots at my feet. “I’ll get your coat.”

She stumbled as she turned toward the house and Theo let go of me to grab her before she fell. I shot off toward the tree. I vaguely registered the ice-coated twigs scraping my arms as I pushed through the branches to the trunk, which had smashed through the studio, flattening the front wall to the ground.

“No, no, no,”

I said, stepping forward. Something sharp and solid pierced my foot. I hopped back on my other foot and sank onto the tree trunk to stare at the wreckage. Ice pinged off my sketches. My worktable had snapped in half and the turntable had lost its top. The failed piece in the corner was covered in a tarp, but it too would be ruined soon.

A strange noise burst from my chest. Something more feral than a shout. I’d heard it before. Rowan had made the same sound the night our dad died.

Somewhere behind me people were shouting my name while I watched the last of my art, those scraps of imagination, never fully realized, that I’d refused to trash, coat with ice, along with all my tools and supplies. I started to laugh when I realized the only thing that wouldn’t be ruined was that damn lump of clay since I’d stored it in an airtight plastic bucket.

“Rowan Eloise Stevens,”

Mom yelled, which got my attention. “Do not go in there.”

Oh shit. My sister was the only other person small and stupid enough to get to me without cutting a few limbs out of the way. She’d break what was left of her spine, and we’d have to close Red Blossoms since I still couldn’t bake.

“Stop,”

I shouted. “I’m coming out.”

I felt the branches a lot more this time, but my feet were oddly numb despite having stepped on something so painful. It hurt a lot more when I stepped down on my injured foot, so I hopped on the other one. When I reached the edge of the branches, a large arm pulled me out just as I began to shake so hard my knees buckled.

“Call Cal,”

Theo said, sweeping me off my feet and hurrying toward the house. My teeth chattered so much they ached, and I could no longer feel my feet.

“What were you thinking, kardoula mou?”

Theo said, elbowing the back door open. He shoved something off the counter by the kitchen sink and plopped me down.

“Is she OK?”

Rowan asked, coming in the back door.

“I can’t see a damn thing,”

Theo said.

I was shaking so bad I was afraid I’d fall off the counter.

“I’ve got the lantern,”

Mom said, calmly. She switched on the lamp we took camping and let out a cry when the light illuminated my feet.

“What?”

I said, leaning forward. The last thing I saw before everything turned black was a nail the length of my finger stuck in the bottom of my beet red foot.