The closer we get to Sera’s front door, the sicker I get to my stomach.
The walk from the tree line to the porch takes maybe thirty seconds, but each step feels like wading through wet concrete. Patrick remains close behind me, near enough that I can hear him breathing but far enough that he won’t seem threatening to whoever answers. We discussed this on the journey here. He’ll let me take the lead and let me explain before anyone has a chance to attack first and ask questions later.
Assuming they give us the chance to explain at all.
The house looks exactly the same as it did two weeks ago when I snuck out the back door in search of adventure. They’re the same stone walls, the same wooden shutters, and the same flower boxes that Sera planted last spring because she wanted to try her hand at gardening now that she could actually take joy in watching things grow. I used to think this place was boring, safe, and predictable, everything I wanted to escape from.
Now it looks like salvation.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Patrick insists from behind me. “I can go first if you want. I’ll take the initial reaction so you don’t have to.”
I keep walking despite the tremor in my legs. “No. She’s my sister. This needs to come from me.”
We reach the porch, and I stand in front of the door, drawing in a breath, trying to find the nerve to knock. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, my temples, and behind my eyes. Everything I’ve been dreading since Patrick first suggested this plan is about to become real.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I raise my fist and knock.
Footsteps approach from inside. A shadow moves behind the frosted glass panel beside the door. The handle turns.
Sera’s face when she sees me is something I know I’ll never forget.
Relief comes first, so overwhelming that her entire body sags against the doorframe. Then confusion takes hold as she takes in my disheveled appearance, the dirt on my clothes, and the scratches on my arms from our journey through the forest. Finally, her eyes flit past me to the man standing three feet behind, and every inch of her goes rigid.
“Caelan.” My name comes out strangled. “What—where have you—”
She doesn’t finish the question before she lunges forward and hauls me into an embrace so tight I can barely breathe. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and buries her face into my hair as her body trembles against mine.
“Two weeks,” she sobs. “You’ve been gone for two weeks without a single word. I thought you were dead. I thought Thornridge had taken you. I thought—”
“I’m sorry.” Tears burn in my eyes as I hold her just as tightly. “I’m so sorry, Sera. I wanted to contact you. I tried, but there was no way, and everything happened so fast, and I didn’t know what to do.”
She leans back enough to look at my face, and she cups my cheeks the way she used to when we were children, and she was trying to comfort me after a nightmare. The curse made those gestures feel so lackluster back then, but now, I can see everything she’s feeling written across her face. Love and fearand anger all tangled together until I can’t separate them from one another.
“What happened?” She grabs my shoulders and gives me a small shake. “Where were you? Why didn’t you come home? And who the hell is that?”
She jerks her chin toward Patrick, who has stayed exactly where I left him. True to his word, he’s made himself as non-threatening as possible. His hands are at his sides, his posture is relaxed, and his eyes are zeroed in on the ground. He looks nothing like the warrior who tore apart a Thornridge scout with his bare hands less than twenty-four hours ago.
I take a breath and steel myself for what comes next.
“Can we come inside? This is going to take a while to explain.”
Sera narrows her eyes at Patrick, but she steps back and holds the door open. I walk through first, and Patrick follows at a respectful distance. The interior of the house is so wonderfully familiar, and the smell of coffee and baking bread fills my chest with so much emotion I have to blink rapidly to keep from crying.
Sera points to the couch in the living room. “Sit. Both of you. And start talking.”
I sink onto the cushions and clasp my hands in my lap to hide how badly they’re still trembling. Patrick takes the chair across from me, keeping the coffee table between Sera and us. Smart.
“It started the night I snuck out,” I begin. “You were asleep, and I was restless, and I wanted to do something exciting for once in my life. So, I went to a bar in town.”
Sera’s eyes go wide as saucers. “The Rusty Fang?”
“You know it?”
“I know its reputation,” she scoffs. “But that discussion is for another time. Keep going.”
“I met someone there.” I glance at Patrick, who gives me the barest nod of encouragement. “We talked for hours. We danced. We…” I trail off as heat scorches my cheeks. “We spent the night together.”
My sister gasps and chastises, “Caelan.”
