“For volunteering. For coming back to the cottage. For agreeing to walk into the unknown with me.” I smiled. “And for bringing me to my room.”
He shrugged lightly, but his gaze held mine with quiet intensity. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s what I do.”
I didn’t know what to do with that.
So I smiled. “You won’t be able to go the whole way.”
His brow rose. “Are we talking metaphorically or about the path tomorrow?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “The path, Keegan.”
“Just checking.” Mischief twinkled behind his gaze, and my heart twisted a little tighter.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Being a part of this is important to me. Whether I get to go all the way with you or not, I’d rather have that than nothing.”
My brows lifted. “Are we talking metaphorically or…” I leaned against the door, suddenly aware of how close we were.
How the glow of the sconces painted his face in soft light, and how the silence between us wasn’t empty, but full of all the things we hadn’t said yet.
“I should let you sleep,” he said, though he didn’t move.
“Probably,” I murmured.
He didn’t step back.
I didn’t either.
The pull between us was magnetic, yet not explosive, not rushed, not yet.
It was juststeady likethe gravity that you stop trying to fight once you realize it’s been there all along.
But he pushed off the frame slowly, eyes never leaving mine.
“First thing in the morning,” he said. “We step in together.”
I nodded, pulse quickening. “First thing.”
His fingers brushed my wrist briefly. It was light, almost accidental, but not really.
Then he turned and disappeared down the corridor.
I watched him go until he vanished around the bend, and then I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, pressing my back to it with a breath that felt far too loud in the quiet.
The calling path would wait for morning.
But the promise of what came next had already begun.
My dad walked down the corridor, and I kept the door open as he waddled through the opening.
The soft magic hummed in the walls, barely audible over the faint crackle of the hearth beginning to glow. A few golden orbs of light bobbed near the ceiling, drifting slowly like they were trying not to disturb anything.
With a bulldog sigh, my dad made a direct line for the thick rug by the fireplace, where he turned twice and collapsed with a satisfied grunt. His snoring began almost immediately in a gentle, rhythmic sound that filled the room like a lullaby from another life.
I slipped off my shoes and let the shawl fall from my shoulders. Everything felt heavier now that I was alone, as if silence had made room for the questions I’d been holding off all day.
I crossed to the window, pulling the curtain back with two fingers, just enough to peer out into the moonlight-drenched gardens.
