“You did.”
She groans, claiming a barstool and letting her forehead fall to the counter. “Do you think he noticed?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Guys are so lucky that they don’t get all glowy.”
Technically, male pixies do sparkle, but only rarely. Maybe they’re better at suppressing it, maybe it’s the way our magic works. I don’t know, but it’s always seemed a little unfair.
“Okay,” Nadine says, visibly putting her embarrassment behind her. “Ice cream. Let’s do this.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“I asked your mom for her ice cream recipe this morning. We’ll just try adding a little matcha and see how it goes.”
I know very little about matcha, but I do know some is better than others. We have a few different types in the cabinet, but Rowan will probably have a conniption if we use a ceremonial-grade tea while experimenting with ice cream recipes.
But…Rowan’s not here.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s give it a try.”
Chapter 14
Thank Goodness For Sound Wards
Ihaven’t seen Rowan for more than twenty-four hours now, and I feel like I’ve caught a human flu. Every muscle in my body aches, and I have no energy. My stomach is off, my head hurts, and if he doesn’t hurry home, I’m probably going to die.
Okay, die might be a touch dramatic.
He texted when he was leaving Albany, and I wrapped up in a blanket on my bed, resigned to the fact that I won’t see him tonight. He’ll arrive in Moss Hollow after midnight.
The house falls silent as my people head to bed, and I lie here, unable to sleep.
But I must eventually doze, because I wake to a quiet noise at the window.
I freeze, my heart beating wildly, wondering if it was a dream.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I nearly jump out of my skin.
Preparing to run from the room and get my dad like the grown-up pixie I am, I grab my phone. But before I’m out the door, the device buzzes with a text.
I look down.
Rowan: It’s me. Open the window.
Relief hits me so hard, I nearly melt onto the floor. Flipping on the lights, I hurry across the room and pull back the drapes.
Rowan stands on the other side of the window, shrouded in midnight. He points to the lock, gesturing for me to flip it.
I quickly follow his instructions and pull the window open, cringing when it loudly protests.
“What are you doing?” I whisper when I have it open just enough that we can talk.
“I tried to text, but you didn’t answer.”
“I was sleeping.”
