“This clan needs him, and he needs you,” he said. “He can change things for the clan. You can change things, which means I’ve gotta go.”
“Your staying has no effect on what happens between me and Oliver.”
Greg crossed her yard, heading back down the hill toward her. Only he didn’t stop when he should have. He came closer than normal, closer than friends should. Close enough her heart jumped in her chest. He stopped when his nose was inches from hers.
“You sure?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she squeaked. She never had romantic feelings for Oliver before Greg showed up. She still didn’t.
He shook his head which was way too close. “I’m not buyin’ it. I know you, Carrie. I know what you want. I know it more than you do. I saw it in your eyes when we danced, and I see it there now. You want things to change between you and me, but it can’t. It’s not good for the clan.” His voice hardened. “Or me.”
She dropped her gaze to his shirt, feeling completely transparent. She wanted Greg to love her. Was that so horrible? Oliver gave them his blessing. Was it too much to ask Greg to want it, too?
“I don’t love Carrie,” he’d told Jeff.
Would she never learn?
She blinked rapidly.
“Carrie…” Greg whispered, voice pained. Slowly he reached up. His hands, warm and calloused, cradled her neck and face with infinite gentleness.
Her pulse pounded in her chest.
What was he doing?
She needed to look up. She had to see. But it took great effort to lift her lashes. When she did, his eyes were there, intense and focused on hers. They held the same longing as when they had danced, and for a moment, she allowed herself to hope.
Hands still cradling her face, his head started to lower to hers.
She froze.
He was going to kiss her. Her lips felt suddenly dry and her stomach did several flips, yet she found herself leaning into him. A peace settled in her chest. Mariah was right. Mariah was right.
She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting for it.
When her breath ran out, and her lips remained untouched, her eyes opened. Greg was there, a breath away, but his expression was no longer filled with longing. It was filled with deep pain.
“Don’t you get it?” he said softly. “You chose wrong. You’re still choosing wrong.”
The implication of his words hit her. He didn’t want to kiss her. He wanted to prove a point that she wanted to kiss him. Badly.
Stunned and hurt, she backed out of his grasp.
You chose wrong. You’re the only single female I know. I don’t love Carrie. Everybody knows I only love myself. I’m not interested. I’m not interested. I’m not interested.
Maybe Greg should go back to North Carolina. Maybe it would be easier. Maybe it would end the battle raging inside her. Her tomato stem might be weak, but his was completely snapped off.
Just as she was ready to tell Greg goodbye, to tell him good riddance, she realized something. Something that shifted everything in her mind.
Greg had lied.
He told Jeff he didn’t love her, that he only loved himself, but it wasn’t true. He loved his mom deeply. His grandparents, too. And Zach. And the clan. And if that part wasn’t true…
He had risked his life to save her from Jeff. He hadn’t even thought twice about it. Why would he do that if he didn’t love her, at least on some level?
She rushed further back in her memories to the moment he had stopped dancing. To the way he’d looked at her. How he had almost kissed her. Like a light turning on in May’s house, everything clarified in her mind. Mariah. Walls. The reason Greg was so desperate to leave now. The reason he was pushing her away.
She looked up. “You’re scared.”
His brows lifted, raising that nasty gash. “What?”
Her gaze dropped to his light blue shirt, finding it easiest, but she had to say it. For once in her life, she would say exactly what she felt.
“You’re just scared. You…” The words caught. You love me. But everyone Greg loved either left, died, or was stolen by the Collapse. So he was pushing her away, protecting his heart so it couldn’t be broken again. Oliver was just an excuse. Oliver was just another wall. Pretending to hate everyone and everything—even her—was a way to keep his distance so he couldn’t get hurt again.
Holding onto the few moments Greg had let his guard down, she found the courage to finish.
“You weren’t the only who saw something when we danced,” she whispered.
It was silent far too long. She risked the tiniest glance up.
Instead of being angry, Greg was fighting off a smile. “No, you didn’t.”
He had been seconds from kissing her, she was sure of it. And that hadn’t been a test. It had been a moment when he’d dropped his defenses and forgot to protect his fractured heart.
“Yes, I did,” she said. “I saw it in your eyes. I saw it. I did.” The words stopped flowing, but her thoughts refused to quit. You thought I was beautiful. Stunning even. You loved me.
His smile faded. “So now you know why I’ve gotta leave.”
Her cheeks warmed, not from embarrassment but from the possibility that she’d been right. Hope grew inside of her. What did that mean if he felt something for her?
“Look, Carrie,” he said, hand running over his short hair, “another time, another place it mighta worked—we might have worked. But this can’t happen. I’ll never let it. Too many people need you, Oliver most of all. He’s better for you anyway.” Greg reached up as if to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, but he stopped just short. “He’ll take care of you. He’ll get you your citizenship. Amber and Zach’s, too.”
“Citizenship?” she said, startled.
“Carrie, Carrie, Carrie,” he said with a shake of his head. “If you’d ever quit pushin’ Oliver away, it’s only a matter of time before he proposes and makes you legal. Only he’s not some low-life yellow cardie like me. He’s a government employee with a new position and a raise. Think of the life he could give you. Freedom. Money. New clothes. A house with electricity and hot showers and no lookin’ over your shoulder ever again. It wouldn’t just be for you either. He’ll get it for Amber and Zach. You could have your old life back. You could be permanently safe.” His brows pinched together as if in pain. “You really expect me to stand in the way of that?”
She’d never thought beyond a simple date with Oliver because she never allowed herself to. But that list…the possibilities…
Only it came at a cost. Oliver. Not Greg.
Or her clan.
“I didn’t think so.” Greg took a quick breath. “I gotta leave.”
“No.”
“No?” he questioned.
“No!” She looked up and used his own words against him. “You told me to start sticking up for myself. Well…this is me sticking up for myself. Call me selfish, but I’m putting my wants above everyone else now. Above Oliver, the clan, and even my siblings. I’m not letting you leave, Greg. Not because of your mom. Not because it will break Zach’s heart. Not even if it costs me my citizenship. I want you to stay because of me and only me.”
His eyes narrowed.
She concentrated on the soft breeze too cool her flushed skin. “You’re my friend now, and friends don’t desert each other when they’re hurting. I’m hurting right now. A lot. So you have to stay. You have to.” Her voice started to lose power, but she forced herself to finish. “Because you’re my best friend.”
“Best friend?” he said, brow cocked.
She felt her blush deepen. “Right now, you’re my only friend, which makes you best friend by default.”
He chuckled softly. But just as fast, his smile fell. “And Oliver?”
“Oliver is…Oliver.”
“And when he gets the courage to ask you out again?”
Pain was such a part of her life, it barely stung. Greg wouldn’t be satisfied until she and Oliv
er were married with four kids. But he’d given her a tiny glimmer of hope today, and it was enough. She could wait until he was ready to admit it to himself. Until then, she forced herself to say what he wanted to hear.
“I’ll say yes.”
His whole body relaxed, tugging further at her heart. Yet it was worth it if it swayed him.
“So…you’ll stay?” she dared to ask.
His eyes, so full of pain and questions, searched hers. “You’re sure? ‘Cause at this point, I don’t know anything anymore. I’ll do whatever you tell me.”
“Stay,” she whispered. “Please.”
A spark of something lit him from the inside out. His eyes transformed first, followed by his face. Suddenly he was standing tall again, taller than he had in a week. In a month.
She held out his hat and baseball. He studied both before taking them back. “You just want your flower shop, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” she said with a smile.
He returned her smile. Then he shoved his Yankees hat back on. “Fine. I’ll stay. But don’t be whinin’ about this later. You made this choice. No goin’ back.”
Let’s hope not.
“Well,” he said, “if we’re gonna be best buddies, then I need you to do me a favor. Two favors actually.”
“Okay,” she said, instantly on edge. His last favor involved a haircut, and right now he looked far too mischievous for her comfort.
“Just friends, right?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Alrighty. First favor…”
He opened his arms wide.
Carrie stared at his outstretched arms. Her heart swelled. Without as a single hesitation, she stepped forward and fell into him. He engulfed her. It wasn’t a soft hug. It wasn’t even a barely there hug. He held her like his life depended on it. She shut her eyes and lay against his UNC shirt, and when that wasn’t enough, she slid her arms around his waist and squeezed him in return.
Greg held her for a long time. She breathed in the scent of him, of the essence of her new best friend, and a deep peace settled within her. She concentrated on the steady rise and fall of his chest, of the strength of his arms, of his chin resting on her sun-warmed head as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. He was inches from suffocating her, and she loved it.
“I haven’t thanked you yet,” he whispered into her hair. “For savin’ me.”
She remembered Jeff with a rifle hovered over Greg’s head, ready to end the dispute forever. She shuddered. Greg’s arms tightened in response.
“You saved me, too,” she said.
“Hey. That’s what best friends do, right?”
She smiled against him. “Right.”
Tilting her head back, she looked up at him. The sun shone over his head, framing him in light. His green eyes, so steady and warm, took in her face, her hair, her everything.
“You really are beautiful,” he said.
It was the kind of compliment that implied more than looks. Her lashes lowered. “Thank you.”
“Especially when you blush.” Reaching up, he stroked her cheek. “Man, you’re soft, too. Real soft. Alrighty then. I should probably let go of you now.”
Clearing his throat, he released her and stood back. She smiled. She couldn’t help it.
Brushing down his shirt, he said, “Okay. We still good?”
“Yes,” she said.
Very good.
“Good. Then it’s time for favor number two. Meet me by the chicken coop in ten minutes.”
“Why?”
“Just be there in ten,” he said. “Oh, and bring your little plant.”
fifty-three
BY THE TIME CARRIE MADE it to May’s driveway, her curiosity was fully piqued. A few clansmen were heading to the Trenton’s like she was, only they carried shovels and hoes. And though she couldn’t see it yet, she heard the familiar sound of metal and tools clanging in May’s backyard.
“Hi, Carrie,” Sasha said, coming up from behind. She held a rake in one hand and Little Jeffrey in the other. The second he saw her, Little Jeffrey broke free and ran up to her.
“Look, look!” he said, opening his fist to expose a handful of ‘doodlebugs’ curled up in tiny balls of fright.
“Wow, Jeffrey. They…” Emotions overcame her. She scooped him up in a hug that was supposed to be quick but ended up lasting much longer. Long enough he squirmed to be put back down. “They look great. You should go show Greg. He’s back there.”
Little Jeffrey took off for May’s backyard, Sasha struggling to keep up. Carrie clasped her tomato plant and followed.
As she rounded the side of the house, she stopped. Half the clan was in her garden, turning the soil. More were coming. Greg wasn’t by the chicken coop where he said he’d be. He wasn’t even by May’s house. He was right smack in the middle of the garden—her garden—back turned away from her, striking the ground with a hoe to break up the soil.
Prepping the garden was her job. Everyone helped on planting day, but for the last three years, she had done most of the preliminary work with the Watsons. It usually took forever, too.
Greg did this.
He was behind this coordinated effort.
Carrie watched him a long minute, watching the pull of his muscle in the bright sun. His arms. His broad shoulders. His Yankees cap which had twisted askew.
She scanned May’s backyard for a way to sneak up on him like he always—
“You gonna keep starin’ at me all day?” he called without turning. “Jump on in and help already. We’ve gotta lot of work to do.”
Leave it to him to know exactly where she was and what she was thinking.
Carrie joined him in the center of the garden. Her shoes sunk into the soft soil he’d already turned. He continued to break up the ground in front of him, halfway through the long row.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He stopped and leaned on his hoe. “And here I figured it’d be obvious to you, of all people.”
“You know what I mean. What’s all this?” she said, motioning to everyone else.
“Well, I figured it’s high time to plant. In fact, we probably shoulda planted a while ago—my fault—so I thought I’d make it up to you.” He motioned to the sour cream container in her arms. “You ready?”
She glanced down, and her stomach dropped. Greg wanted to plant her tomato. Right now. Today. He was extremely sweet. Over the top, but sweet.
“Actually, Greg, tomatoes can’t go in the ground yet.”
He rolled his eyes.
“No, seriously,” she insisted. “It could still freeze, and I haven’t hardened it off either. But thank you. Especially for all this. We should definitely start some peas, lettuce, and onions today.”
“And,” he said, pointing, “that tomato.”
He leaned forward to snatch it. She jumped back to block him.
“Wait!” she said. “It’s not ready yet. What if it freezes tonight?”
“Can’t you cover it until the frost passes?”
“Yes. But what about hardening it off? I spend a week hardening off my plants—at least. And that’s at the end of May. Not April.”
He folded his arms. “Can’t you shade it and protect it from the worst of the winds? C’mon, Carrie. You’ve been blowin’ on that poor little stem since the day it sprouted. I say it’s ready.”
“It needs more time,” she said, clutching it.
His expression softened. “No, it doesn’t. Not only is it ready now, but it’s been ready for a while. It’s a fighter, remember? Think of all it’s endured. I say it’s ready for some sunshine. Have some faith in it.”
Greg stepped forward, hands out, waiting.
Carrie didn’t budge.
It was just one little plant. In the grand scheme of things, one tiny tomato plant didn’t really matter. Yet it mattered the world to her.
“If you don’t have faith in your little plant,” he said, “then have faith in me, your
new best friend.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking in the warm air and the sun on her cheeks. Her field. Her future. Faith in Greg. Faith in everything. But more importantly, having faith in herself. She could do this.
Opening her eyes, she nodded. “Okay. Where should we plant it?”
the end of book one
one
GREG PIERCE BOLTED UP in bed, listening. He could have sworn he heard a motor, but that was impossible. The only motor they heard in the Logan Pond subdivision anymore was Oliver Simmons’ patrol car, and the motor he’d heard hadn’t sounded like a car.
He listened another moment.
Nothing.
Another dream.
They were getting worse. Usually he dreamt about swimming with his sister at Salvo Beach in North Carolina. Kendra’s head would slip beneath the surface, and Greg would struggle to reach her. But he was always too late. Why drowning, he wasn’t sure. Kendra had died of pneumonia a year ago in a government hospital—a drowning of the lungs, he supposed. This was the first dream where a beach jeep patrol tried to help save her. The motor he’d heard.
With a groan, he threw an arm over his head to block out the early morning sun. He knew better than to fight his way back to sleep. Cursed morning person. Strangely, the thought made him smile. He wasn’t the only morning person in the clan. Standing, he peeked out his window to see if Carrie Ashworth was—
He heard it again. A motor thrumming in the distance, low and rhythmic. Not a dream.
His heart kicked into gear.
It sounded like a helicopter, only he hadn’t seen any aircraft in the six years since the global financial collapse wiped out everybody’s transportation, including the government’s. Frantic, he searched every inch of the morning sky as the rhythmic sound grew louder.
Greg slipped out of his bedroom and through his grandparents’ front door for a better look. On the porch, he spotted a black dot in the sky headed toward them.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 40
