Bianca felt weirdly victorious. She kicked off her shoes and let her toes sink into the cool soil. The work settled her fast. Loosen. Place. Pack. Dirt under her nails. Quiet where the noise usually lived.
Dawn watched her. “You really do like this.”
“My grandmother had a garden,” Bianca said. “A real one for food and not decoration.” She pressed soil into place. “She said dirt keeps you honest.”
Leila nodded. “My grandma says the land listens.”
Bianca glanced at her. “Smart woman.” The tension in her chest loosened. The constant buzz of dealing with schedules, deadlines, and ego-driven personalities drifted into the background. “This is dangerous.” She brushed dirt off her hands.
Dawn smiled. “Because you like it.”
“Because I like it too much.” Bianca looked out over the paddocks at the white fence glowing in the sun and horses grazing on the wet ground. “I’d lose whole afternoons here.”
“But,” Dawn said.
“But I don’t get paid to dig in the dirt.” Bianca shrugged. “Marigolds don’t buy food. Plus, I like finding locations.”
Dawn handed Leila another plant. “Still worth something.”
Leila stage-whispered, “Flowers make people nicer.”
Bianca laughed. “You might be right.”
They finished the row together. Bianca stood, stretching, hands filthy, heart lighter than it had any right to be. “I worked at a garden store once,” she admitted. “Even did some planting on the side.” She smiled faintly. “Then reality happened.”
Dawn chuckled. “It usually does.”
A truck came down the drive and neared the garage fast, gravel popping under the tires as it stopped suddenly.
Adam climbed out of the driver’s side, jaw set, rain jacket half unzipped.
Hawk came around the front, already talking, irritation in his tone. “I told you to slow down.”
“I did slow down,” Adam said.
Bianca’s gaze dropped.
Blood soaked Adam’s sleeve from shoulder to elbow, dark and wet, dripping steadily from his fingertips into the dirt.
“Oh,” she said.
Dawn was already on her feet. “What happened?” she asked, calm as if he’d skinned a knuckle.
“Wire snapped,” Hawk said. “Post shifted and caught him good.”
Bianca’s gaze dropped to his arm. She sucked in a breath. “Adam.”
Adam shrugged, which made more blood run free. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Dawn said. She took his arm, turning it carefully. The cut was long and clean and deep enough that Bianca had to look away again. “You need stitches.”
Adam opened his mouth.
“You need stitches,” Dawn said again, already steering him toward the house.
Leila stared. “Is he gonna pass out?”
“No,” Dawn said. “But he is going to sit down.”