My hand flew to my mouth. It was my favorite book when I was five. My mom used to read it to me every morning before kindergarten. Then she’d kiss my palm and remind me—If you ever feel lonely, just press it to your cheek.
For the first time in a long time, a single tear slipped down my face. I reached up and pressed my palm against it, wishing—aching—for it to be her kiss.
Just once more.
Junie took my free hand.
“You don’t have to be sad anymore. I’m here.”
I smiled and curled my fingers around hers, a strong connection invisibly weaving us together. My heart begged louder than ever to be unlocked so our story with Junie could truly unfold. What story?
“Thank you, Junie,” I whispered. “Would you like to call my eagle?”
She nodded, her grin stretching wide across her beautiful face.
She was the perfect blend of her gorgeous parents—her dad’s eye shape and thick lashes, her mom’s bone structure, olive skin, and dark hair.
“All you have to do is say, ‘Lady Goldy.’”
Junie didn’t hesitate.
“Lady Goldy,” she sang, like it was a name she’d known forever.
Within seconds, Lady Goldy appeared—wings gliding gently as she hovered in front of Junie, waiting to be adored.
Junie instinctively reached out and petted her head.
Lady Goldy closed her eyes and hummed low, basking in the affection.
“Lady Goldy, please find Junie’s grandma and tell her where she is—and that she’s safe,” I instructed my trusty companion.
Well, at least I thought she was. She’d let me down this morning by letting Roman find me. Apparently, her true loyalty lay with Zeus.
Lady Goldy nodded and took off so fast it was like she vanished into thin air.
I turned back to Junie.
“Are you ready for me to read to you?”
My voice shook. It was strange—maybe even a little sad—how much the honor frightened me. Maybe it was because, a long time ago, I’d had dreams too.
Dreams of having a little girl of my own. With Roman. It embarrassed me to think about it, so I shoved the thought aside.
Junie sat on the top porch step, book in hand, her expression far too knowing for someone so young.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m a nice girl.”
I laughed and sat beside her, the sound catching in my throat like it didn’t quite know how to be happy.
She handed me the book.
“My goddess whispered to me that you’re a nice girl too. The nicest ever. You just forgot.”
I swallowed hard.
I really hoped her goddess wasn’t a liar like mine.
Because I hoped she was right. That whoever I was in the end, I was at least a nice girl.
