Don't Touch My Petunia

by Tara Sheets

  Logan’s gaze dipped to the neckline of her nightgown, traveling slowly down to her boots. “Do you ever wear normal clothes when you run around in the woods?”

  “I wasn’t running around in the woods. I was walking purposefully to this tree. And I put on shoes.” She lifted a red polka-dot rain boot. “Besides, I don’t usually have to worry about running into anyone. Come to think of it, why are you out here?”

  He glanced away. “Just taking a walk.”

  “At this hour?”

  “Why not?”

  Why not, indeed. It was clear he was avoiding the subject. She wondered what would bring him outside, away from a comfortable bed and a good night’s sleep.

  He motioned to the tree. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I don’t know if it will work. On anything else, the healing potion would work wonders. At least for a little while. The spells only last a few days, then longer if something was inclined to heal in the first place. I just don’t know that it will be enough for something this huge.”

  “Still, thank you.” There was a softness in his expression she hadn’t seen before. He was looking at her like she was special. Like she was important. It was equal parts wonderful and frightening. This man was dangerous. He made her want things she couldn’t have.

  A shiver of anticipation.

  Logan reached for her.

  When she stepped into his arms, it was as if she were melting into him. He felt familiar, like all the things she wanted to hold on to, all the things from her past that were good things. Something about the way they fit together felt easy. Always with other people, she was aware of the dance—the game of flirting and dating and eventually, breaking up. But with Logan, it wasn’t a game. Whatever it was, it scared her. But maybe for a little while, she’d just run with it.

  * * *

  Fire licked against his face. The scent of acrid smoke and burning metal filled his nose, suffocating him. All sound had been reduced to a flat, endless ringing that wouldn’t stop. He dragged himself from underneath the vehicle. Two of his men were slumped on the ground. Everything else was on fire.

  Logan woke with a start. The dream always left him feeling empty. Lost.

  Someone shifted in the bed against him, and then he was staring into a pair of blue eyes fringed with dark lashes.

  “You were dreaming,” Juliette whispered.

  He sat up and leaned against the headboard.

  She watched him, her beautiful face etched with concern. Everything about her was soft and warm and perfect. It was always unsettling to wake from the dream, but even more so now to be in such a hellish place, only to find her beside him.

  “Do you dream about the war?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Always.”

  She pulled herself up and leaned against the headboard next to him. “Tell me.”

  Logan shook his head, as though to brush the memories away. What use would it be to talk about it? He couldn’t change anything. But then he looked at Juliette’s face, and the words came anyway. “We were digging a well in this village out in the middle of nowhere, Afghanistan. It wasn’t a big operation. Just a routine job we’d done before. But someone didn’t want us there. Four days into it, a bomb went off in the well.” He rubbed his face with one hand, trying to scrub the memory clean. “And two other bombs in the surrounding buildings. Six of us didn’t make it. My buddy Jacob . . .” He stopped altogether, not wanting to think about it.

  Juliette placed her hand in his. She didn’t look at him or try to force him to talk. She just sat there next to him while they stared into the dark. Together. Her presence was like a cool breeze. Having her there beside him made the past seem less painful. How did she do that? Whatever it was, he laced his fingers through hers and held on. “Jacob and I served together for a long time. He had a wife. Two kids. I watched his baby grow up in pictures.” Juliette squeezed his hand. “We had this thing where we’d flip a coin to see who had to do the worst job. On that day, I won. He was closest to the well when the bombs went off.”

  Logan’s voice trailed off, and he didn’t say anything more. He remembered trying to find his friend in the wreckage. Ears ringing from the explosions. Eyes stinging. Lungs burning from the smoke. He searched for what seemed like hours. So many villagers had died. Jacob’s body wasn’t found until the next day. They told Logan later he was lucky to survive, but he didn’t feel lucky. He felt angry. Angry at himself. The war. Everything. Sometimes the memory of Jacob kept him up all night. How he laughed when Logan won the coin toss that day. How he’d stuffed the latest picture of his baby girl into the pocket of his shirt before he left.

  Logan closed his eyes. Even now, nightmares of that explosion still haunted him. He’d joined the army because he wanted to fight for his country. He didn’t regret his decision; he was proud of the men he fought with, and proud of the country he fought for. But he never realized how it could chip off a piece of your soul.

  “I left here when I was eighteen and thought I knew where I was headed,” he said. “I was looking for adventure. I wanted to go places—anyplace away from here. All my life, my dad told me to join the armed forces. It was my duty, he said. Fight for your country. He was a military man, and so was my grandfather, so naturally they expected me to follow in their footsteps.”

  She squeezed his hand again. “It wasn’t what you wanted?”

  “It was everything I wanted,” he said. “I was young and restless and nothing could have kept me here.”

  He paused and turned his head to look at her. “I do remember, you know. I remember that night with you. I was on my way out, and there you were. This beautiful girl in my garden, asking me not to go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Juliette pulled the blanket up around her, as though she could shield herself from feeling vulnerable. Logan had just reminded her of that night in high school long ago, when she’d thrown herself at him. It wasn’t a memory she visited easily.

  “It was a crush,” she said, trying to make light of it. “I mean, I barely knew you.” Not true. She felt like she’d known him her whole life. She’d watched him grow up with his doting grandfather and amazing treehouse and perfect parents. She still remembered that night because it was the first and last time she’d ever tried to give her heart to someone.

  * * *

  Logan’s senior graduation party was supposed to be the event of the year, and nothing could have kept Juliette away—certainly not the pesky fact that she was only a freshman and barely knew anyone in the graduating class. She had managed to arrange a ride with one of her friends who was dating an older guy. Before the party, Juliette had dressed carefully, doing her best to look grown up and mature. She wore her good jeans and a new tank top, and even put on makeup.

  When she first arrived at the party, she stayed in the corner, pretending to laugh and fit in while the older kids drank and blasted music. Logan was outside mingling with his buddies around a fire pit, and Juliette waited a long time before she got up the courage to walk out there.

  They were all sitting in a circle on the patio, drinking and talking. Someone handed her a beer and she held it like a security blanket, even though she wasn’t about to drink beer. Because, gross.

  A senior girl started up a game of Spin the Bottle, and one of the boys—a huge linebacker for the football team—announced “Seven Minutes in Heaven” before spinning. When the bottle stopped on her, Juliette thought she was going to faint.

  The boy gave a whoop and lurched drunkenly to his feet. “Let’s go, baby.”

  She was terrified. She knew what Seven Minutes in Heaven was. A stupid game where you had to go behind the bushes with the boy, and supposedly make out in the dark. She hadn’t made out with anyone before, ever. And this boy, with the pimply face and beer-soaked shirt, wasn’t her first, second, or twelve-hundredth choice.

  But how to get out of it without looking like a stupid kid? She slowly rose to her feet.

&nb
sp; Nobody was even paying attention to them anymore. The rest of the kids had already started spinning the bottle again.

  “I’ll be right back.” Juliette tried to leave, but the boy reached out and grabbed her. He wasn’t rough with her, but his hand stayed clamped on her upper arm, and he towered over her. “Not so fast, baby. You and I have plans.” He was so drunk, his words slurred, and he smelled like warm beer and sweat. The idea of kissing him was nauseating.

  Before she could respond, Logan appeared beside her. “Leave her alone, Brian.”

  The boy named Brian puffed out his chest. “This isn’t your business, man.” He tried to drag Juliette to his side, but she wiggled out of his grip.

  Brian scowled at her. “What are you, a prude or something?”

  Logan took her hand and moved closer, glaring at Brian.

  Juliette stared down at their clasped hands. A thrill of excitement shot through her. He was holding her hand. She was holding hands with Logan O’Connor!

  “She’s a freshman, you moron,” Logan told him. “She’s just a kid.”

  Juliette flinched. All the elation she felt just a few seconds before evaporated with his words. She’s just a kid. That’s what he really thought of her. Of course he thought that. Why wouldn’t he? Logan was all of eighteen. He was an adult, and she wasn’t even old enough to drive.

  Logan led her around to the side of the house until they stood alone near a tangle of pink and yellow rosebushes. Their soft, peaceful scent made a mockery of the turmoil she was feeling inside.

  Humiliation burned in her cheeks. He thought she was a baby. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can.” Logan dropped her hand. “But Brian’s an idiot, and I didn’t want him mauling you.”

  “Because I’m just a kid, right?” she asked bitterly.

  “Well . . .” Logan seemed to search for the right words. “You are a lot younger than we are. Aren’t you?”

  “So? Lots of girls my age do more than spinning the bottle.” He needed to know she was a lot more mature than her age. He needed to realize she wasn’t a kid.

  “You’re probably right,” he said quietly.

  “How do you know I’m not like those girls? Maybe I’ve done a lot more than you think.” Her voice rose with frustration. “Maybe I’ve even done more than you.”

  Logan put his hands on her shoulders. “Juliette.”

  “What?” she snapped.

  “You should go home.”

  Her heart cracked. Surely he could hear it. He didn’t even want her there.

  He squeezed her shoulders, then let go.

  Juliette’s lower lip began to tremble. She pressed them together hard, wishing he would hold her so she could bury her face in his flannel shirt and pretend things were different.

  “Don’t leave,” she whispered. “Don’t go away.” It was pathetic, she knew. He didn’t even really know her. But they’d grown up on opposite sides of the woods, and she’d always felt connected to him.

  He would never understand that, but maybe if he got to know her, she’d matter to him. Except, how would he ever get to know her if he left Pine Cove Island and joined the army? What if he never came back?

  “I have to go,” he said simply. The conviction—the excitement in his tone—raked across her raw emotions. How could he be so happy about leaving?

  “No, you don’t,” she said. “There’s nothing where you’re going except fighting. Why would you choose that when everything good is here?” When I’m here?

  Logan shook his head. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to just sit around here for the rest of my life. I want to see the world.”

  “Why?”

  He looked at her like she was crazy. “Because it’ll be something different, and I’m tired of this place. I want to do things that matter. Not everyone’s happy to just wander the woods and live on the same boring island for the rest of their life, you know.”

  Juliette tried to breathe past the heaviness in her chest. He didn’t think much of Pine Cove Island, or her. To him, she was just a boring kid. There was nothing left to say.

  She turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

  “Hey.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. What else can I say?”

  Say you’ll stay. And that you’ll never go away. Because you love me, and I’m enough.

  Her eyes were hot with unshed tears, but she wasn’t going to break down. That would make him think she was even more of a baby. Instead, if he was leaving and never coming back, what did she have to lose? Juliette lifted her chin and turned to face him.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “Let’s just say good-bye.”

  “Sure. I’ll see you around, okay?”

  Juliette nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t see her around because he wouldn’t be around. He was going away and probably never coming back. It was now or never.

  She waited a second to gather her courage. One, two . . . She shot up on her tiptoes and planted her lips firmly on his. Three.

  Logan froze, his arms lifting in surprise.

  Juliette pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his back. He was so tall, and way warmer than she’d imagined. And he smelled like pine needles and wood smoke and warm flannel. He smelled like everything she loved. He smelled like home.

  For a few seconds, he remained rigid, but then his body relaxed and he leaned in to the kiss. It was her first real kiss, and it was everything she’d ever imagined. Juliette felt a momentary surge of triumph.

  A heartbeat later, he gripped her arms and stepped back, blinking as though he were trying to process what happened.

  Juliette lifted her chin. “I’m not just a kid.”

  Logan’s breathing was a little unsteady, his expression far more serious than she’d ever seen it. “I guess not.”

  She’d gotten under his skin. She’d made him feel something. Good.

  “I’ll see you around, Logan O’Connor.” With a toss of her hair, she turned and walked away.

  If a tiny piece of her was hoping he’d follow, she refused to acknowledge it. This was how it ended, and that was fine. This was real life. You could love someone, but that didn’t mean you were enough to make them stay. She’d been taught the lesson before, and tonight cemented it. From now on, she’d be a real grown-up. She wouldn’t lose herself in silly dreams of love and forever, because it didn’t last. Not for her parents, and obviously not for her. It was better this way.

  * * *

  Now, here she was in his bed, over thirteen years later. And instead of feeling shocked, or worried, she felt . . . safe. It made no sense, because he represented a past heartache she’d worked so hard to forget.

  “I don’t regret the choices I made,” he said quietly. “I gave over a decade of my life to the army and the men who counted on me. They were my friends; they became my family. But the fighting and the loss . . .” He shook his head. “It stays with you, and the years go by, and you watch some of the people you know die, and you start wondering when it ends. If it ever ends. And the longer you’re out there, the more you realize that the people back home have moved on. They have lives and careers and families. And you start thinking, who’s going to miss me if I’m gone?”

  “Is that why you wanted to come back?” Juliette whispered.

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “I wanted to come home. I figured it was time to stop fighting, and time to build something that would last. And the hell of it is, it was right here the whole time.”

  Juliette wanted to take his hand in hers. Kiss him and tell him she was glad he came home. But something stirred deep inside her. He made her want things she’d sworn off a long time ago. He was everything she’d hoped for, back when she was naive enough to believe in dreams, and it suddenly terrified her.

  She reached over the side of the bed and pulled the small vial from her cardi
gan. Then she placed a few drops in the water glass on the nightstand and handed it to him.

  He took the glass. “Is this one of your magic potions?”

  “Yes. It’s the same potion I gave the tree.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “But I’m not dying.”

  “It’ll help. Trust me.”

  Logan held her gaze for a moment, then drank the entire glass of water, his eyes never leaving her face. He set the empty glass on the nightstand. “What’s it supposed to do?”

  “It’s a healing potion. If you’re plagued by nightmares, it should bring you some peace.”

  The alarm clock on the bedside table buzzed. She jumped and gave a nervous laugh. “I need to get going. The sun’s about to rise.”

  Juliette grabbed her nightgown off the floor, slipped it over her head, and wrapped her cardigan around her like a security blanket.

  Logan sat up and reached for his shirt.

  “Don’t bother,” she said. “I know my way home.”

  “Let me drive you.”

  “No, I want to walk. See you at the shop.” She gave him an awkward wave and slipped out of the room, through the kitchen, and down the back porch steps. It wasn’t until she was halfway home that she began to relax. As much as she wanted to pretend he was just a summer fling, she couldn’t. Logan was much more than that, and she couldn’t deny it anymore. When he’d told her about the war, she wanted to throw her arms around him and hold on until the pain of it faded away. She’d never felt that way about any other man. It wasn’t that she was indifferent to other men she’d been with. It’s that she never let them get close enough to affect her on such a personal level. She prided herself on keeping things light, and if a guy started getting serious, that’s when she started getting “gone.” But this whole emotional thing with Logan was different. Something was happening between them, and she had no idea how to navigate through it.

  She emerged from the woods into her garden, stopping at the trellis she’d been meaning to fix. The climbing roses were on the ground again. She grabbed an armful of the thornless stems and propped them against the broken trellis. The trailing flowers slid off the latticework and landed on the ground. Again.