Winnie bounded down the stairs, plowing into Selene with a great big hug. “Bye, Mom, see you later.”
Selene hugged her daughter and clung to her for a fraction of a second longer. When she looked up, I could see she was fighting tears of exhaustion.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I drove to school, floating six inches off the ground.
NINE
AUSTIN
The car linewas at a dead stop, parents waiting outside their vehicles for the kids like they always did at pickup. Over the past few days, I had learned that the line was long enough to make a man start contemplating whether kindergartners truly needed an education. I leaned against the side of the SUV, letting the warm breath of late afternoon drift through. Sunlight hit the paint in sharp, slanted beams and lit up the dust on the dash like golden mist. It was light that made everything feel softer, even the tightness in my chest that always showed up when I was waiting.
Then—there she was.
Winnie Darling came flying down the steps of the elementary school, her backpack thumping against her small frame, arms flung out like she might take off if she caught enough speed. A teacher’s aide tried to wave her into a more dignified walk, but she ignored it completely, focused and grinning like she had a secret she couldn’t wait to spill.
I yanked open the passenger door, and she scrambled into the seat, already talking before the buckle clicked. “You’re not late.”
I raised a brow as I adjusted the straps on her booster seat. “Have I ever been late?”
She shrugged and popped the cap on her pink water bottle, like that was irrelevant. “Not yet.”
The words weren’t bitter, they were casual. A simple fact, but they landed hard in the small, quiet place in my chest that was growing more and more aware of the unspoken gaps she’d already learned to sidestep. I shook my head as I climbed back behind the driver’s seat.
Before I could respond, she narrowed her eyes, examining me like a biologist discovering something half interesting in a puddle. “You’re dirty.”
I looked down at my shirt—smudged with drywall dust and a thin streak of joint compound across the hem from the job I’d barely finished in time to make it here.
“Rude,” I said, feigning offense. “This is called looking rugged.”
Winnie grinned like she didn’t believe a word of it. Then she reached into her glitter-covered backpack and pulled out something small clutched in her palm.
“For you,” she said, holding it out on her open hand like it was something sacred.
I took it slowly—a small, shimmery stone, flecked with bits of mica that caught the sun like stars—red and purple with a faint swirl of silver.
“It’s a protection stone,” she said seriously. “Just in case. For the coming week. I had to do a blessing with it last night, but the magic should hold.”
I stared at the stone for a long second, caught off guard by the earnestness in her voice. No teasing. No performance. Just childlike truth—the kind only kids knew how to hand out without apology.
“Thanks,” I said, quieter now. I slipped it into my pocket without a joke. It didn’t need one.
“I got Mama one too.” She grinned.
“She needs protection too?” I asked.
Winnie shook her head. “Hers is for relaxing. Mom has the best laugh when she’s not stressed out.”
A puff of air shot out of my nose.This kid. “She does, doesn’t she?”
Winnie settled back in her seat, humming a song I didn’t recognize as she pulled her legs up cross-legged like the car was her living room.
As we drove around the parking lot and out into the street, I asked, “So what’s new in the castle?” Winnie and her friends had been spending their recess time playing make-believe. It was hard to keep up sometimes, but the drama was better than any TV show.
Without looking at me, Winnie said, “There’s been a coup in the Lavender Wing. Queen Esmerelda tried to take over the North Hollow during second recess, but Felicity—she’s head of the Moon Court—said that was against treaty rules. So now there’s going to be a magical trial by winged combat.”
I blinked. “Dang. That’s intense.”
