“And some of the boys.” It was a curious thing to stick on, in that moment. But Raven’s mother used to nestle roses in his curls. While the girls in town sported blossoms of pink and white, Arianna Holloway would weave a garland of crimson roses and crown him with it each year. It was one of his favorite memories of her.

Those garlands had been sacred.

Jack tilted her head, a soft smile on her face. “Half the girls, and some of the boys,” she corrected, and Raven saw a tear slide down her cheek. “Lily found the recipe in the orchard, and she hid it so she could use it as blackmail.”

“Blackmail for what?”

Jack cringed, swallowing audibly. “She wanted to be included in the plan. She suggested we weave poisonous flowers into our garlands so it looked like an accident when a few petals fell into Evelyn’s tea. She was going to weave lilies into her garland, and I was going to weave poppies. With Belle, you can guess.”

“Belladonna from her garden.”

A nod, as she wiped away the tear. In spite of everything she’d told him, Raven’s fingers twitched at the movement. He wanted to soothe her suffering. To find any wounds she might be hiding and kiss them with gentle lips. “As we got closer to the night of the murder, Belle started to hint that we should each drop a few belladonna berries into Evelyn’s tea along with the petals. Just to make sure the plan worked. But after Mom’s boyfriend fell down the stairs, I realized I couldn’t go through with the poisoning. I knew how it felt to take someone’s life in my hands. And if you’d ever found out that I’d killed your stepmom, you wouldn’t have been able to look at me.”

A beat, as Raven exhaled. “But you didn’t do it.”

“I came close. And I almost killed that man because of what he was doing to my brothers. I wanted to kill him, Raven.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “If I ever found the man who shot my mom, I would wrap my hands around his throat—”

“You wouldn’t.”

Raven’s face broke into a grin. It was the kind of sharp, jagged grin that Belle had flashed a hundred times, before threatening someone with the flowers from her garden. That smile held no compassion. Only malice. “I would do what I needed to do.” He scooted toward her, across the bed. “Do you want to tell me the other secret you’ve been keeping? The one that’s been crushing you?”

Jack lowered her head. Her lips didn’t part. Her eyes didn’t find him.

But his fingers laced through hers, tightening until she squeezed back. “Why is this secret worse than almost killing someone?”

“It isn’t.”