I should’ve felt trapped. I should’ve felt cornered.
Instead, I felt—dangerously—like I belonged.
He leaned in like he was going to kiss me, but stopped just short. His breath was warm on my lips, his hand still cradling mine. “You say the word,” he murmured. “And I’ll take you inside, right now. Or I’ll take you back to Mabel’s. Or I’ll sit here and let you talk for hours about all the ways this freaks you out. Whatever you need.”
I kissed him.
Because what I needed—what Iwanted—washim.
His mouth opened against mine, his free hand sliding to the back of my neck like he couldn’t bear to go slow, like he’dbeen waiting all night to touch me. He tasted like beer and sugar and something distinctlyBeau, like leather and motor oil and the sweat of a man who worked with his hands.
When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine and whispered, “You’re not gonna leave.”
I swallowed hard. “Don’t get cocky.”
“I’m not cocky,” he said. “I’m hopeful.”
I smirked. “Still sounds like a fertility cult.”
He groaned. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Never,” I whispered. “But maybe I’ll let you take me back inside.”
He stood, offering me a hand. “Walk with me instead.”
My eyes darted out onto the lawn, toward the trees. “Aren’t there monsters aren’t there?” I asked.
He smiled. “Don’t you worry, baby. I would never let anything hurt you.”
Then I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet and lead me toward the dark woods.
Because I believed him.
CHAPTER 12
Beau
Together,Noelle and I walked into the moonlit woods.
Fall had come rolling in fast and abrupt, like it always did; the leaves changed to gold and scarlet, a few coated the path out toward the Witch Tree. Rhett and Willow had worked to get the path spruced up, wanting our whole family to be able to visit…wanting to show their kids someday, where a curse was cast and later broken.
Whit had given them endless shit about making the place where they’d had sex into some kinda family heritage site.
I figured it was only right. Where else did anything in this town ever start but with sex and spellwork?
Noelle was quiet beside me, her hand gripped in mine. She didn’t hesitate—not even once—as we stepped off the porch and walked the path through the garden, then under the arbor to the leaf-littered forest trail. Branches arched above us like a cathedral, the air cool, rattling the leaves on the trees every so often. The moon filtered through the canopy, lighting the way better than any flashlight could.
Noelle’s hand was sweaty, trembling. I squeezed it tight.
“I’m not gonna do any weird pagan shit out here, if that’s what you’re thinkin,” I said.
She let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“The Gloamstrider?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No…the Painter. It’s always…honestly, I don’t go out in the country much because I tend to see it, even though I know it’s not real. I’ll see it in the trees, walking behind me…watching.”
I slowed, just a little—enough to turn and look at her face.
