Leya leaned against the stone wall for a moment after Harrison departed, attempting to catch her breath. The air now felt colder with him gone, his scent-scented, clean-pervading still clinging around the greenhouse.

She forced the notebook into her palm, her mind spinning at what he'd stated. He doubted that she did believe him—he was good with that. She never thought that he would, though. But how that he spoke, in which he seemingly could not accomplish that which was happening, shook ...