Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
A “trap crop” is a lower-cost plant sewn specifically to lure the bugs away from the high-value veggies.
Mustard greens are a fantastic one. Not only do they offer protection against aphids and cabbage worms, but they also attract beneficial insects, like parasitic wasps that lay their eggs in aphids, further reducing the critter population. As my gaze tracks over their rumpled, pockmarked leaves, I silently thank them for their sacrifice.
Not every beautiful thing is beautiful on the outside. Some things are beautiful because of how much they give, the way they lay their lives on the line for the survival and flourishing of others.
The thought reminds me of Nix, of the way he puts his safety on the line for the vulnerable. At first, I assumed he must have a touch of a savior complex, which isn’t the worst thing, I guess, when it comes to complexes. It’s noble to want to help people, even if your ego is more involved than it should be, and we all fumble for control in an out-of-control world in our own ways.
But now that I know him better, I realize his ego has little to do with why he lifts his fists.
He’s one of those rare people who sees that the game is rigged, but chooses to stand and fight for justice anyway. He’s an idealist, but not one of the naïve ones. He’s stared clear-eyed into the past, absorbed its wisdom, and deduced that the chances of the human experiment ending on a high note aren’t looking great.
Most people who reach that place throw up their hands. They grow nihilistic or bitter. Or they numb the pain from all that clear-eyed seeing with their drug of choice, whether it be sex, booze, success, or simply staying so busy there’s no time to think about what we’re doing here if it’s all so hopeless.
If all the things we’ve been told to want are hollow, and no one has the answers.
If no one even seems to be looking for the answers anymore…
I should know.
When I brushed up against those same dark thoughts as a younger woman, I doubled down on work. I took on more clients, more employees, growing my business until the chaos was just barely manageable. And when it eventually became manageable enough to let the old fears in through the back door, I turned my attention to finding the perfect love society promised would banish the darkness once and for all.
I did my best to find that with Teddy, and when that failed, I went through a sad, fractured time. But eventually, I renounced the lies I’d been raised to trust, stopped believing anyone was coming to save me, and learned to love myself. To deeply love myself, in an honest, integrated way that finally put my feet firmly on the ground.
And there, in that sacred place, I found the peace I’d been looking for. It was there inside me all along, an abiding love that will never lie or leave. And yes, sometimes I still want to be held. I still want passion and companionship. I still want to walk down a NOLA street, laughing with a man I love to kiss, giddy about what comes next.
But in the past, what came next was never what I’d hoped for. It was never what I’d been promised, so long as I followed the rules and was a very good girl. A good woman, but not too much of a woman. Not too bold or too loud or too successful or too old.
God, never that.
And yet, here I am, so close to society’s definition of “past her prime” that I’d started to give up hope. I knew that on some level before Nix, but what I didn’t realize was that a part of me was…relieved.
Happy, even.
It was glad to be done, to be allowed to give up on that stupid “happily ever after” dream that had already stolen so much of my life. No, I didn’t really want to be alone forever, but alone was so much better than any romantic “love” I’d ever known. And I’m not really alone. Not really. I have my friends and family. I have volunteer work and my business, and a place in a community that values what I have to give.
And now, maybe, if I’m brave enough, I might also have a man who adores me, who wants to give me pleasure and laughter and support without asking me to be something I’m not.
It feels too good to be true.
It’s fucking terrifying, and not just because I know how much it would hurt to lose something so sweet.
It’s terrifying because I would be tempted to betray myself to keep it. I would be tempted to slide back into little white lies, and trying too hard, and giving too much, and lavishing praise where praise isn’t due, to protect the fragile man holding my future in his hands. And when he left, the way they always do, I’d be back at rock bottom again, all my hard-won peace stolen away.