A flutter of nerves touched my stomach.
“Yes, that would be nice. Twobble might appreciate your tall-human presence.”
“Tall-human presence, right. My specialty.”
I stood, smoothing my coat, while he ducked into the adjacent room, presumably to throw on socks or brush that hair into submission. The little stove snapped again, sending a fresh wave of heat. I rubbed my arms. The day’s tension still weighed on me, but sharing it with Keegan eased some of it. He had that effect—solid and unflappable, making me feel less alone.
A minute later, he reappeared, shoes on, hair slightly tamed. He grabbed a coat from a hook by the door. I followed him outside, trying not to glance too obviously at the curve of his shoulders. It was silly, but I couldn’t help noticing, even in the dark.
Sure enough, Twobble was out there, pacing a small circle in the lamp’s glow, looking mildly offended that it had taken so long. He eyed Keegan suspiciously, though the suspicion was mostly show.
“About time,” Twobble said. “I almost grew roots.”
Keegan lifted a brow. “You could have knocked if you were that impatient.”
Twobble just snorted. “And interrupt your little chat? Didn’t want to ruin your moment.”
He leaned over to my ear. “So, did you get a little…”
“Twobble,” I playfully smacked him. “That was not what this was about.”
“If you say so.”
I gritted my teeth, cheeks warming. Sometimes Twobble was too blunt for his own good. But Keegan just shook his head, a faint grin tugging at his mouth.
“Come on,” Keegan said, stepping off the porch. “Let’s get Maeve home before the next piece of magical chaos finds us.”
The four of us fell into step on the cobbles, the night air cool enough to make me shiver slightly under my cloak. Twobble, as usual, acted like a sentinel, swinging his gaze around as though an army of illusions might leap from the shadows. Keegan walked by my other side, not too close, but near enough that I felt comfortable in his presence. And Frank, always by my side, made me feel like all was right in the world again.
We headed along the familiar route, streetlamps flickering overhead, a hush settling over Stonewick. I couldn’t help thinking about the swirl of change that I felt beneath the surface—fae creeping back, the Wards stirring, alliances that once broke, maybe finding a second chance.
I caught Keegan’s eye in the lamplight, and he gave me the smallest nod.
Even with the unknown looming, I felt a swell of cautious optimism.
Yes, it was late. Yes, tomorrow might bring fresh questions. But for now, we were four allies walking home under a moonlit sky, trusting that this fragile spark of hope would guide us forward.
Chapter Thirty
For the first time in eons, I woke up in my cottage without an army of visitors stationed downstairs. The only sound that rumbled through the house was my bulldog’s snores, and it provided the comfort I needed.
Finding out that we might have a fae trying to test our tolerance both exhilarated and worried me. I didn’t want anything to go wrong. I couldn’t afford it. Too much was at stake.
I kicked off my covers and stretched as the morning sunlight streamed in through the window, and let out a lofty yawn as I walked toward the steps and went downstairs. My dad saw me and extended his paws by the fire that had died out. I quickly snapped my fingers, and flames ignited in the hearth.
Not bad.
But that didn’t help all my spell mishaps, especially ones that involved my ex. Stella had taught me the spell to make Alex’s name give me a bitterness in my mouth, but it wasn’t enough. After the recent mistakes, I needed something more effective to provide a longer-lasting aversion.
Pulling a domestic spell book from the shelf near my dad, I flipped to a page where I’d seen something about aversion spells.
To create a moderate aversion toward a specific person, memory, or recurring regret by triggering minor discomfort (hiccups, sneezes, spontaneous itchiness) whenever the subject invades your thoughts. Side effects may include sassiness and improved boundaries.
I didn’t need to be in the middle of something vital between fae and shifter at the Academy, have Alex pop into my head, and have him start barking like a dog states away while some fiasco unfurled in front of me.
Bringing the spell book into the kitchen, I set it on the counter and smiled. This should be perfect.
I reached for the worn wooden spoon I’d used for every ill-advised spell since I first decided to dabble in self-improvement via magic.
