Free The Healing (The Things We Can't Change Book 3) by Kassandra Kush Page B

were in the first place.
    Minutes tick by with unnatural speed, until it’s four o’clock and Zeke is walking up to where I’ve been standing by the sliding glass doors for the last ten minutes, watching him adjust the sprinklers. My arms are wrapped around my sides, and I feel like his voice is coming over a great distance, even though he’s standing right in front of me.
    “All right.” He dusts his hands on the sides of his shorts, surveying the backyard before looking back at me. “The sprinklers are set up, you just have to turn them on. Make sure you turn them on if it doesn’t rain and let them run for a good hour. If you don’t water all this stuff the first few weeks, it’ll die and you’re out a lot of money and I’ll have a shitload more work to do. Got it?”
    I nod, woodenly, and Zeke stares at me, and in some weird flash of connection, I know he sees what’s eating at me.
    “I have to work at the club this weekend,” he says, a note of apology in his voice. “A couple people are on vacation, so I have dining room duty tomorrow afternoon. There’s an event early Sunday, so I’ll be gone most of the time.”
    I try to force myself to nod, the movements jerky and stiff as I avoid looking at him. “I know,” I say quickly. “It’s fine. You aren’t even supposed to come on the weekends. Have fun at work.”
    I take a step backward, trying to force a smile onto my face to let Zeke know I’ll be fine, even though I know I won’t be. I can already feel it all coming over me, the urge to listen to Tony’s message, the need to sink deeper into the guilt. Fuck. I don’t want to feel this way, don’t want to go back into the darkness but I’m helpless to stop it and I know I can’t change that. Now I can’t wait for Zeke to leave, to just be gone and not be watching me so I can go to my dad’s office and curl up on the couch and just make myself face everything. I might not be floating away, not yet, but I’m sure the time will come at some point over the weekend. And I’ll be too weak to fight it. I’m too weak to shovel dirt; how can I expect to fight this?
    Zeke stays there on the deck, looking undecided as I step inside and begin to slide the door closed, trying to tell him with my eyes that he can go. Just as the door is about to shut tight, his hand snaps up and he throws the door back, easily overpowering me as he steps inside and holds out his other hand.
    “Let me see your phone.”
    “What?” I ask, taking a few steps back because even though it’s Zeke and I’ve never felt afraid of him, the sudden movements still startle and scare me.
    “Give me your phone,” he says again, although it’s more of a demand, his hand out and insistent.
    “Why?” I ask, like a fool. There can only be so many reasons people want to see your cell phone.
    “To put my number in.” He says it in an um, duh sort of way, with the usual edge of sarcasm that is Zeke Quain.
    I only point to the counter, where my phone is plugged into the wall, charging for the first time all week. I’d almost forgotten I owned the thing until this morning. After all, who would be trying to get in touch with me?
    “Why do I need your number?” I ask, even as Zeke picks up my phone and starts tapping the screen. The idea of me calling Zeke seems ludicrous.
    Zeke finishes entering his number and then sets the phone down before returning to stand in front of me. His eyes lock on mine, bright green battling with purple, and we stare at each other for a full minute before he finally speaks.
    “Call me,” he says firmly, and I open my mouth to protest but he holds up a hand. “I’m serious, Evie. If you… if you feel like you can’t handle it, instead of cutting, I want you to call me.”
    “I can handle it.” I answer much too quickly and we both know it. “I’m fine, Zeke.” I try for a smile but it comes out as a grimace and I know I’ve failed completely to convince either of us.
    “Do it, Evie. I