The early light caught in his hair, and for a second, the kitchen felt warmer, steadier. Keegan always had this way of making things okay again.
I paused, glancing between the ingredients scattered across the counter, the jars of lavender, the small pot of honey, butter, and the softened cream cheese waiting for another spell.
“Everything, but let’s start with not setting it on fire.”
“That seems reasonable, if nothing else,” he replied, scratching his head.
Twobble snorted. “Low expectations. I like it.”
I reached for the flour, and Keegan grabbed my hand.
“Why don't you try not measuring it by hand and letting the wand do the work?” He smiled. “Believe in yourself.”
“Or at the very least, the magic,” Twobble chortled.
“Okay,” I murmured, glancing up. “I’ll do it differently, but I think I should measure a few important things.”
Twobble leaned forward, suspicious.
“I can’t just throw magic at it and hope for the best.”
Twobble eyed me.
“It gave us ash,” I insisted, giving him a look before turning to Keegan. “I should at least measure the flour. Can you… hold this steady while I cream the butter and sugar?”
He stepped closer without hesitation, placing his hands lightly on either side of the bowl as I added the next ingredients.
“Like this?” he asked.
“Exactly like that.”
Twobble tilted his head. “Why does he get a job?”
“Because he’s not criticizing the process,” I said.
“I could at least hold the bowl.” Twobble scowled.
“You would eat the dough.” My eyes focused on him. “I can see it in your eyes.”
He wiggled his finger. “That’s merely a possibility, not a guarantee.”
I bit back a smile and added the lavender as the scent rose immediately, weaving through the kitchen.
“Easy,” I whispered, more to myself than anything, lifting my wand and tapping the side of the bowl. “Blend.”
The ingredients slowly came together, and the dough formed smoothly, with no strange colors or ominous sounds.
Twobble blinked. “I don’t like how normal that looks.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I warned as Keegan dumped the dough onto the pastry board.
I recited the spell as my wand took over, and the pastry rolled out in tiny squares while cream cheese dollops floated steadily and dropped onto each pastry.
“Foldensia,” I said softly.
The edges tucked in neatly, sealing the filling inside, the shape forming with a kind of quiet confidence that made my chest tighten just a little.
Twobble leaned closer. “It’s working.”
