Chapter 2

Dean didn’t answer.

He flipped the maintenance sheet facedown, as if the dates would stop mattering if he couldn’t see them.

“I didn’t mean to leave you hanging,” he said. “Last night was different.”

I looked at the dried dirt across the back of my hands.

“Every time, it’s different.”

His mouth tightened. “I’ll fix the greenhouse today.”

I didn’t respond.

At first light, I went back to the community garden.

It was barely warmer inside the greenhouse than it was outside.

The basil closest to the door was gone, the leaves flattened against the soil. The tomato seedlings weren’t dead yet, but their leaves had curled inward, waiting on help that wasn’t coming.

Rosa was already there.

She crouched beside one of the beds, moving the seedlings we might still save into trays.

We worked for a while before she looked up.

“That woman didn’t come back last night, did she?”

I stopped.

“What woman?”

“Short brown hair. Always wears that cream-colored coat.” Rosa held one hand at shoulder height. “She was here last Wednesday evening for a long time. I thought she was a friend of yours.”

Willa.

I looked toward the folding chair in the corner. A beige knit wrap was draped over the back of it.

It wasn’t mine.

Rosa followed my gaze, and her expression changed.

“I didn’t know you didn’t know. She said Dean told her she could wait here. She asked me which outlet she could use to charge her phone.”

I picked up the wrap. The wool was soft under my fingers, carrying a faint perfume I couldn’t ignore.

“How many times has she been here?” I asked.

Rosa didn’t answer right away.

“I saw her twice. There may have been other times. I’m not always on the evening shift.”

I set the wrap back on the chair.

That morning, Dean drove me home so I could change. He barely spoke, like he was waiting for me to decide that last night was over.

As we pulled out of the community garden, his phone connected to the car’s Bluetooth.

Willa’s voice filled the car.

“Thank you for staying with me last night, Dean. You told me you had an early meeting today, but you still turned your phone off. I know you don’t want June to get the wrong idea, but I really just needed to hear your voice.”

Dean hit the screen so hard the audio cut off.

The engine hummed between us.

“She was upset last night,” he said. “Don’t make more out of one message than there is.”

I looked out the window.

The trees along the street had not leafed out yet.

Last year, around this time, my mother and I had planted the first mint in the greenhouse.

She had already been too weak to walk far, but she insisted on pressing down the soil around every pot.

Dean had promised to help us install new shade cloth.

That afternoon, he canceled.

He said a client had changed the meeting time and he had to stay at work.

Later, while I was halfway through hanging the cloth by myself, he called to say I shouldn’t wait for him. Willa had just broken up with her boyfriend. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe.

My mother had been sitting outside the greenhouse on the bench, holding a packet of seeds we never got around to planting.

She hadn’t asked where Dean was.

She had only said, “Secure that side first. The wind’s picking up.”

Back then, I had made excuses for him.

Willa really did need someone.

Dean really did have work.

And I really could handle more than she could.

When he pulled into our driveway, I unfastened my seat belt.

“How long have you been giving Willa access to the greenhouse?” I asked.

Dean went still.

“That isn’t the point.”

“It is to me.”

He didn’t look at me.

I opened the car door and got out.

Behind me, Dean finally called my name.

“June, what exactly do you want me to do?”