Maybe knowing his pain and remembering his mom has softened me up. Maybe I’m grateful for all the help he’s given me over the past two weeks. Or maybe it’s the magic of downing four strawberry vodka fizzes, but seeing him here, at my welcome home party, means a lot.
I take a sip of my fizzy sweetness and close the distance. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here. Thanks for coming.”
Wylder’s smile is stiff and feels a little rusty, but so genuine it makes my heart hurt for him. While I had Asher to get me through the past five years, he had Laurel.
There’s no comparison.
“Yeah, Orion sent me an invite.” His smile falters, and he drops his gaze to stare into his drink. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. I meant what I said back at my house. I’m sorry for acting like I’m the only one who was devastated by what happened. I wasn’t myself and felt so lost I couldn’t see beyond the pain.”
He dips his chin. “Same.”
For a long moment, we stay like that, the noise of the party surrounding us: the music playing, the overlapping voices, the rise and fall of laughter.
I take another sip of my drink and then hold out my hand. “Hey, I’m Poppy. I’m new in town and looking forward to happier days.”
Wylder takes my hand and squeezes. “It’s good to finally meet you, Poppy. Welcome home.”
Tanner raises his glass from across the diner. “To Poppy’s homecoming.”
Everyone raises their glass, and for the first time in five years, all is right in my personal world. Not perfect by a long shot, but right.
The next afternoon, I wipe the sweat from my brow and lean against one of the old oak trees in the backyard. My lungs are burning, and my skin is tingling with remnant magic.
Wylder doesn’t take it easy during training, not even when I’ve spent the last two hours working through elemental shields and offensive spell variations.
“You’re doing well, Pops.” Orion crosses his arms as he watches me catch my breath. “Last week you would’ve been face-down in the grass by now.”
“Last week I didn’t remember who I am or everything Mom taught us as kids.”
He smirks, those silver-blue eyes catching the afternoon light. “She was a damn impressive lady.”
Yeah, she was.But to safeguard the fragility of the truce between Wylder and me, I refrain from saying so.
Wylder rolls his shoulders and steps away, swinging his arms to loosen the muscles in his back and chest.
I bend forward, propping my hands on my knees while I catch my breath. “Are we done? Can we be done?”
November wind rushes through the trees, leaves giving up the fight to cling to branches. My shirt is wet with sweat, and asthe breeze cuts through the fabric, goosebumps erupt over every inch of my heated skin.
I shiver. “Yikes, that’s cold.”
Wylder nods. “Yeah, we don’t want you catching a chill. Orion’s right. You’re doing really well. You held the water shield longer this time, but you’re still hesitating before switching elements.”
“Okay, I’ll work on it.”
The tension in his frame tells me he’s worried that I need to work faster. “The festival is a week away. We have time.”
Right. No pressure.
I push off the tree and head inside, my muscles protesting every step. The house hums around me, its energy warm and familiar as I pass through the kitchen and down the back hall toward Mom’s workroom.
The carved green door waits at the end of the hall, the Tree of Life shimmering in the low light as I arrive.
I brush a caressing hand over it and then push it open to step inside.
Rowan looks up from the antique worktable, her black and red-streaked hair pulled back in a messy bun. Sebastian stands across from her, sleeves rolled up, his hands hovering over two brass compasses laid out between them.
