Dropping the book on my nightstand, I checked my phone, finally working again but there were no messages.
‘Wyn won’t give it up, huh?’ Lydia hopped to her feet gracefully and launched herself onto my bed. ‘What a prude.’
‘Very funny.’ I tapped her arm with my foot and rolled onto my side. ‘Things are complicated enough right now, don’t you think?’
She pulled herself up the bed until we were face to face and rested her head on her hand, her elbow digging into the pillow.
‘Maybe but I hate seeing the both of you all tore up like this and don’t you dare tell me you’re fine because that dog won’t hunt. You want to talk about it? Unless the problem is Jackson because—’
‘It is not your brother,’ I promised, stopping her before she could start. ‘Not that he isn’t doing his best to wind Wyn up, but Jackson isn’t the issue.’
‘Good. I’ve always been a why choose girlie, but not if it involves my brother.’ Lydia pulled a sour face and for a second I was genuinely concerned she was about to bring up her dinner. ‘All this macho nonsense would be annoying at the best of times but the way he’s acting right now … he ain’t got the sense God gave a goose. I’ve told him a thousand times, he’s never going to get between the two of you.’
‘Could you tell Wyn?’
‘Please,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘If he didn’t love you so damn much he wouldn’t be so mad at my idiot brother.’
It made sense. If Wyn didn’t care, he’d be happy to have Jackson’s help. When I wasn’t shut up in the craft room, trying to memorize as much information as the house and myancestors were prepared to share, I was working with Lydia to manage her connection to the blessing. The few stolen minutes I had to myself all went to Wyn but somehow, Jackson always seemed to know exactly when to appear and I never sensed him coming, too caught up in everything else that was going on.
‘It’s all going to work out for the best,’ Lydia promised. ‘And if it doesn’t, I’ll whip him up in a tornado and send him to Oz.’
‘Don’t make me hold you to that,’ I said, rolling over and reaching under the bed. I pulled out two small bundles, handing one to Lydia and keeping one for myself. ‘This is for you, put it on.’
My sewing skills were not the strongest, but I’d done the best I could without the help of a seamstress. When I’d gone to see the dressmaker who made my Becoming gown, she had altogether too many questions about my grandmother for me to stick around.
‘Oh, hell no!’ Lydia held up the very simple shift, examining it with extremely judgemental eyes. ‘What is this supposed to be? A pillowcase?’
‘It’s a dress,’ I said as I yanked off my pyjamas and pulled my matching dress over my head. ‘Be quick, we’re on a schedule.’
‘On a schedule for what?’
‘Can’t tell you yet.’
On my nightstand, my phone lit up with one single word.
Here.
‘Oh jeez, is this a witchy thing?’ Lydia’s excitement whipped up a gust of wind to make her hair dance around. ‘Am I getting my broom? Are we going to adopt a cat? I know black is traditional but I’m thinking more of a calico vibe.’
‘Lydia Powell, quit talking, put on the dress, and if you need to use the bathroom go now because we’ve got a long night.’
I gave her my best senior witch stern stare.
It had no effect whatsoever.
‘OK but I need to grab a soda on my way out, I’m kind of parched,’ she replied as she sailed into my bathroom, peeling off her clothes as she went. ‘Ooh, and a snack. Maybe some chips and if Ashley has any cookies left over, I would love something sweet as a chaser.’
All those hours I’d spent locked in the craft room, memorizing the language, practising the movements, so afraid I’d do something to mess up this moment. And Lydia wanted to take cookies.
‘Note to self,’ I muttered as I gathered my things and set off downstairs. ‘Be more Lydia.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘This is it.’
At my direction, Wyn pulled his truck off the road and came to a stop in front of a small cabin I thought I’d forgotten but remembered at once.
‘We’re getting out here?’ Lydia asked.
