“He’s not actually feral.” She winces slightly. “He’s… mine, I guess.”
I stare at her, processing this revelation. “Yours? As in, you own that feathered menace?”
“Technically Grandma does. Though I don’t know about ‘owning him.’ I think he’s the freest creature on this planet. But Grandma seems to think he’s hers. So does that make him mine too? You know, technically?” The hope in her voice makes me chuckle—I was totally right when I suspected she was upset when the rooster was seen in town and she thought he abandoned us.
“Yes,” I give up with a loud sigh. “The chicken is yours.”
“Rooster,” she corrects, grinning now. “Our Reginald the Free Spirit.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I can’t help it—I laugh. A real laugh, deep and genuine, the kind that comes from somewhere long untouched. She joins in, her giggles mixing with mine until we’re both breathless.
When the laughter subsides, I reach for her, pulling her around the counter and into my arms. She comes willingly, fitting against me like she was made for this space.
“Any other confessions you need to make?” I ask, my voice low near her ear.
She pretends to think about it, her head tilted. “I may have left out another tiny secret.”
“What’s that?”
Her smile becomes shy. The globes of her cheeks pinken a little as she watches me from under her lashes. “I love you.”
The pink on her face intensifies into bright red as my throat closes. I open my mouth to breathe but can’t. It takes me a while to get myself back on track so I can ask, “What did you say?”
She presses her face into my chest, hiding it. “I said I love you.”
“Shit!”
“What?” She pulls away quickly, dropping her hands. “That’s not the reaction I expected.” Her eyes widen with mortification.
“That came out wrong. I just meant that you said it first. I was supposed to be the one who said it first.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
She’s looking up at me patiently, and when I look back at her, she quirks a brow. “Well?”
“What?”
“You still haven’t said it.”
I start laughing. “Told you I’m no good at this.”
“You were probably right.”
I grab her face in my hands. When I’m sure her attention is focused on me, I lean closer and say in a firm voice, “I love you, Nora Moon. I think I’ve loved you from the first time I met you, my crazy witch.”
Her smile is big and beautiful. “I think I might have known that for a while.”
My eyes open slowly to early morning light. Nora and I lie tangled in my sheets, her head still on my chest as she sleeps soundly. I look around and notice for the second time that I’ve slept through the night with the lights off.
“How about that,” I say, my voice hushed in the quiet room.
“Mm?” She stirs slightly, angling her chin up at me. “What is it?”
“The lights,” I say. “I slept with them off again.” I gesture vaguely at the ceiling. “I guess I should tell you. It’s something you’ve mentioned but I brushed it off. Now, with everything in the open, I want to explain. Why I keep them on at night.”
She props herself up on one elbow to look at me, eyes full of curiosity. She’s noticed, of course she has, but she’s never pried. Just one more thing we’ve danced around.
