“I met Alden first,” she says, a distant smile on her face. “He agreed to help me fix the cottage up, though not without plenty of grumpiness and complaints.” The laugh she lets out is soft and lilting. “He made me feel like it was okay not to have all the answers yet. And he made me feel at home here.” She pauses, looking out the window toward the table, where Alden sits, the youngest daughter now cradled in his arms, fast asleep in the golden sunlight. “That summer, I met Rowan, then Faolan, then Thorne. Each of them fit into my life in ways I never anticipated. Ways that made sense even though they shouldn’t have, if you know what I mean.”
I nod. Even though Aurora’s life is wildly different from most, her family feels full of love. In some ways, it reminds me of my home, up above the café, with just me and Mama.
Aurora turns back to me, and in the light coming through the window, I spot a few fine lines around the corners of her eyes, like she’s spent a lot of time laughing and smiling and squinting in sun. “The life I have now is better than anything I could’ve hoped or planned for when I was your age. But getting here meant letting go of what I thought my life should look like and trusting that it would work out even when I couldn’t see how.” She hands me two plates, which are surprisingly heavy with the big slices of apple tart. “Sometimes the hardest part is just... taking the first step. Doing something you never thought you would. Even if you’re scared.” Her green eyes meet mine, sparkling in the sunlight.
“Were you?” I ask quietly. “Scared, I mean?”
“Terrified,” she says with a soft laugh. “Constantly. Still am sometimes, if I’m honest. Kids will do that to you. But the people in our lives who matter most? They’re worth the fear. At least, that’s what I’ve found.” She picks up a few more plates, balancing them carefully on her forearms, like she’s used to this. “The people we’re meant for are rarely the easiest ones to love, but they’re the ones who make us braver.”
The words settle over me, and though I’m not sure if she’s talking about her own life or if she somehow saw something between me and Aric, I take them to heart, storing them away for later.
“Come on,” Aurora says, her tone brightening. “Let’s get this outside before the girls stage a revolt.”
As we walk back out into the autumn sunshine, I spot Aric immediately. He’s crouched down near the garden,helping one of the younger girls—I think her name is Wynn—examine something in the dirt, probably a beetle or a worm. His tusks glint in the sun as he speaks to her, and when the little girl squeals with delight, he laughs, the sound rich and warm.
Butterflies dance in my stomach as I watch him, and Aurora’s words echo in my mind.
I think about the future—about graduation, about what comes next, about all the uncertainty. About how Aric doesn’t even know what he wants to do after he leaves the academy, and how that scares me too, because what if his path takes him somewhere I can’t follow? Somewhere far away from me?
But then he looks up and sees me standing there, and the smile he gives me makes everything else fade away, until all I see is him.
Maybe Aurora’s right and the people worth loving really do make us braver.
I just need to let myself be brave enough to find out.
“Poppy!” Soleil calls, waving me over to the table. “Come sit by me for dessert!”
I set the plates down on the table, and Aric rises from beside the garden, brushing dirt off his hands. He comes to stand beside me, close enough that our arms brush.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, his hazel eyes searching my face.
I nod, managing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”
He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he thanks Aurora as she passes him a plate of tart.
While we talk and laugh and enjoy our dessert, the afternoon sun filters through the trees lining the property, making everything feel golden and possible.
And it all makes me feel just a little bit braver.
Chapter 29
Aric
I’M GRATEFUL FOR THE LONG walk back into the village; it gives me a chance to walk off all the sourdough bread and apple tart I ate. Poppy walks beside me, bathed in the late-afternoon sun. Her hand is small and warm in mine, and right now, it feels like everything is perfect, like I would freeze us in this moment if I could, and we could live out our days in a perpetual Faunwood autumn.
But that’s not possible.
Alden’s words have been playing on repeat in my head, and Poppy seems equally thoughtful, if the faraway look in her lavender eyes is any indication. I’m not ready for her to ask me about my thoughts—I need to get them in order first—so I decide to leave her with hers for now too.
By the time we make it back to the Golden Lantern, afternoon is giving way to evening. A teenage boy tips his cap to us as he walks past, carrying lamp-lighting gear slung over his shoulder. The lanterns outside the inn alreadyglow with warm orange flames, and they cast flickering light across Poppy’s face as she moves past them. I pull the door to the inn open and step back for her just as a crisp evening breeze sends her skirt rustling around her thighs.
And I realize with a sudden jolt that we’re about to spend the night together—not in the same bed, of course, but still.
I need to keep it in control.
Inside, Mrs. Bluewren greets us from her spot behind the front desk.
“Did you have a nice time with Aurora?” she asks.
