“I’ve known you for nearly a century, Brogan.”
I tipped my head down just a little, catching her gaze. “You don’t want my help either, Lula. Think back on it. Gas stations, the flat tire, the hotel you wouldn’t agree to. Those nights you refused to sleep because you were afraid I’d disappear in the night. I saw the tears on your cheeks in the morning, love, even though you said everything was fine.”
She leaned back in her chair, looking away across the yard. Her cheeks warmed with pink.
“I don’t always do that,” she said.
“I know.”
“What would it matter if I told you I was afraid? Why should you stay up all night facing down my fears?”
“Because I love you. Because I want to face everything right beside you. Even if it’s fear. Especially if it’s fear.”
She closed her eyes, and I contented myself with the sensation of her hand, warm in mine, the soft rhythm of her breaths, her perfume mixed with apple waffles and maple.
“You’re not going to stay here at Ricky’s while we go back to the caverns are you?” she asked.
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
“If I were?”
“I’d still have to go. I know she’s not a child, but… I hate to think of her facing the Hush on her own.”
She was quiet, her eyes still closed.
“I’m sorry, Lu.”
Her eyes opened, and I was caught in the honey light. “For?”
“You are stuck with me.”
A small smile brushed her lips. “Since it’s my dream come true, I think I can stand it.”
The crunch of tires on gravel caught the attention of the four werewolves chatting out near the trees. Lorde faced the approaching car, her tail curled and stiff.
Ricky stepped out of the house, glanced at us, then leaned on the post at the top of the steps just like she had when we’d arrived. At that casual contact of her shoulder to the post, the entire house rang softly, the sound in the center of my chest like a harp string struck by a hammer.
The magic steeped into the walls of this house, echoed in Ricky. I could feel wards snap into place, sharp like mint hard candy, could feel the sweet bay aftershocks of magic waking.
“You know them?” I asked Ricky.
“Nope. You?”
I couldn’t see through the windshield, but I knew I’d seen that car somewhere before. “Not sure.”
“The thrift shop,” Lu said. “Mr. Walch. The man from the thrift shop.”
Sure enough, the car came to a stop on the driveway, and out of it stepped Mr. Walch. He glared at all of us on the porch, then trundled around the car to the trunk.
The passenger side door opened, and the mother I’d seen in the shop got out and shut the door behind her. “Are you Ricky, um, the Crossroads?” she asked.
Lorde had moved closer to us, keeping between us and the car. Her tail wagged uncertainly.
“I’m Ricky,” she said. “This is the Crossroads.”
