He took another step forward. As he did, the air between us shimmered. A thousand particles of light illuminated the yard. He was a haze on all fours, then nearly on two.
“Hey, CC, sorry about that!” Gumbo hopped from the balcony above to land in front of me. In a blink, the wolf was back on the pads of his paws. And a surprisingly horny thrill landed in my gut like a thud.
I had a wolf kink. Who knew?
“Brianne called to tell me you were on your way.” Gumbo licked one orange-nailed paw, giving me time to digest that he had a phone. “I was supposed to greet you before you got here, to keep the alarm from going off. But you took too long, and I fell asleep.”
“I took the long route home, I guess.” My eyes were on the wolf, trying to read the expression in his eyes. Before I could figure it out, he bounded off to the trees lining the back of the property and disappeared. “Why hasn’t the alarm gone off before?”
“There’s always been someone who belonged here.” Gumbo padded up the stairs. “I’ll let you in.”
I followed him in and rushed to the shower. Cold sweat covered my skin. I was raw from dinner. Heartbroken about my son. And filled with wolf-induced adrenaline.
But most of all, a profound sense of disappointment shrouded me. The alarm had gone off because I still didn’t belong. I was still an outsider.
That night, my dreams were tormented and frenetic. Moments from my life flashed through my mind in a chaotic montage. A reserved smile at Jeff on our wedding day. Intense studying in the college library. Laughing with Ethan as we ran the high school track. Visiting Agatha here at a different but still familiar Magnolia. That damn park bench that teased me with its importance yet refused to show.
The wolf was there, in every image, lurking in corners and hiding in bushes. His green eyes, intense and longing, followed my every move. I searched for him, desperate for the feel of him, wanting nothing more than to get lost in him.
But he was always just out of reach, the very thing I longed for and could never have, a bittersweet desire forever unfulfilled, leaving me intoxicated and alone.
CHAPTER 23
Ibandied about the house most of Saturday, watching junk TV and going through the photo albums I’d found in the chest underneath the Blue Hoard.
I was restless and needed action. I’d been far too passive the last few weeks, ever since I’d walked in on Jeff with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. Sure, in fits and starts I’d made progress, but it was always two steps forward and three steps back.
One thing I knew with absolute certainty was that I needed to restore my memories and become more intentional with my witchcraft. I spent thirty minutes staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, willing my memories to return. No matter what I said, they remained hidden. I couldn’t pull that sensation of deep truth that I’d used to restore parts of the house. I couldn’t even access the anger and hurt that led to Jeff’s curses. Or my own son forgetting me.
Overwhelm was the only tangible emotion inside me. It ate at me, a thousand tiny mice racing around the maze of my brain searching for cheese. I prowled the living room like my wolf, anxious and unsteady. I plopped down on the red couch, flipping through television I didn’t even see before turning it off with a huff.
It seemed silly. My own miracle question had been answered with a true miracle. The irony of that was not lost on me. A thriving business had been dumped in my lap in a place I’d once called home. Maybe work would help alleviate this restlessness.
“I need an office, House. I should make lists and get organized. I can’t keep it all up here anymore.” I slapped the side of my head. “Can you help me?”
A creaking sound at the end of the hallway roused me to my feet. Of course, there was already an office opposite my bedroom. I’d opened the door the first day I arrived then forgotten all about it.
But the office I stood in now was different. Massive windows covered the front wall, overlooking the entrance to the Magnolia. The tree-lined street with its charming houses-turned-businesses made me smile. I couldn’t quite see Illusion Square from my view, but the tops of the Mighty Oak assured me it was nearby.
I’d missed this in New Orleans. The sense of community that a small town brings. My crappy office in a crappy shopping center was the opposite of soothing. Who wanted to get therapy next to a pawn shop and fast-food joint?
Surveying the office, I realized it was the very one I’d seen on a home improvement show earlier in the day, decorated in something the host called barnyard chic. A robin’s egg blue desk faced the windows from the opposite end of the office. Behind it were tall shelves with recessed spaces that matched the desk. Flowers and vases sparsely populated the shelves.
Gumbo was already asleep on the bright pink chair in the corner. His nails and bow matched its happy hue. He opened his eyes a slit when I scratched behind his ear. With a purr, he drifted off. Soft music drifted from a speaker/charger on the table where my phone somehow had appeared.
I took my seat. It was wide and comfy, a soft cream color with leather like butter. A Bayou Bliss popped into existence on a ceramic coaster. I opened a drawer to find a stack of legal pads and pens.
“Thanks, House. Let’s get started.”
Business stuff was easier to process, so I began with that. If I was staying, I’d need to cancel my lease on my other office. I was fairly certain everything I wanted to keep from my home with Jeff was already here, but I would want to verify that with my own eyes. I’d need to dissolve my corporation, or have it legally merged into the Magnolia. I’d need—and my hand hovered before I wrote it—a divorce.
If I wasn’t staying, I’d need to formally resign my position here. I’d want a new place with a new lease, and I’d want to movemy office Uptown, which meant a small business loan I probably couldn’t get. Maybe I would find a place like this Uptown or in the Garden District, granted without the magical element, and live on the top floor. That might cut down on expenses.
Either way, I was getting a divorce, which meant finding a lawyer. Jeff and I had a family lawyer, but he was a buddy from college, and I didn’t want to use someone who would show bias. Ethan seemed like the logical step.
My list drifted to the Magnolia. Succeeding as a therapist here meant resolving things with Doug. Whatever I’d done to him, the town was on his side. I may never have friendships with the Twins, but I’d have to find a way to work with them.
Both of those meant harnessing my power. I wanted to learn more about what it meant to be a word witch beyond the surface stuff I already did. Did I need to practice spells? Practice chants? Make charm bags or work with herbs?
