“Made it safely.”
“Good. Is the apartment nice? I worry since they’re offering it for free, it’ll have roaches.”
“Jesus— I’m not in the apartment yet, but I don’t think there are roaches in this part of the state.”
“They’re not picky, Fern.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know you’ll be fine, you’re alwaysfine.” Her mom sighed heavily, the weight settling right on Fern’s good mood. “I want you to want more for yourself. I want you to be a success.”
There it was. Inhaling, Fern flipped her phone face down to stop blinding herself while she looked for her turn. “I want to be happy, and I will be. If it’s not here, I’ll go somewhere else.”
“At least the cost of living is cheaper upstate. Are you still trying to donails?”Mom scoffed.
Yes. But Fern didn’t answer, and it wouldn’t have mattered if she had. She might not be an artist in the strictest sense of the word, but she loved nail art and other crafts. It meant something to her, even if it wasn’t enough for Mom. That stung, but she was trying to get away from it and stop caring about her mom’s judgment. Her own dreams were what mattered. She was the one who had to live them.
Mom continued, “Hopefully your hairstyling will bring in enough business. Maybe you’ll do well and can take on a partnership role, eventually. You could even expand the enterprise. I’d like to see you find more success there than in the city. I just don’t know why you didn’t studybusiness, finance, accounting…” Mom got all daydreamy, and Fern’s sour stomach threatened to rebel. “Even if the salon doesn’t go well, you could get lucky, and it’ll bring in enough to—”
“Okay, thanks, Mom! I’m pulling up to the apartment,” she lied. “Talk to you soon. I’ll send pics.”
Hanging up before she had to hear another rude comment about her life choices, Fern’s eye roll turned into a squint when she spotted a gap in the trees ahead. Gravel crunched beneath her tires as she swung through the turn. Adam said she’d go up a hill, take a left to drive around the square, then left at the bookstore, and she’d be there.
Scowling and almost to her new home, she cranked the volume knob to drown out her raging insecurities—made worse, as usual, by Mom.
“My bloodsworn brethren, Krylynx and Trynt, will surely find Jessica as intriguing as I do. Two-leggeds are rare and revered in our part of the galaxy. ‘Tell me about your brothers again,’ Jessica requests as my tentacles whirl, spinning dials and pressing buttons to lower our landing gear. ‘Kry’s the red one with three dicks and a bad attitude—’”
Laughing, Fern rolled down the windows to let in the night air and frowned. She still hadn’t hit that hill, and there were no houses around.
Finally, the heavy trees gave way to a sleepy clearing, alive with fireflies, and she found herself at a dead-end that also served as a driveway. A big shed stood ahead, a hand-painted sign tacked up above the double doors, and a timber cabin framed by flowering gardens sat off to her right, amber light glowing through its windows. The setup looked like a magazine spread—too perfect, too curated. She kind of loved it, though.
She must’ve missed her turn and gone too far into the valley. Growling like Xyzandyr, Fern made a painstakingly slow U-turn, which was more of a seven-point turn, then glanced left and yelped.
Another linebacker-looking motherfucker stood in the doorway of the house, silhouetted by the lights inside. He stepped forward, triggering some motion sensor that illuminated his gray sweats and tight T-shirt, a well-groomed beard, and wavy brown hair thrown up in a top knot.
It was just Elliott.
Christ, she hadn’t realized he was sohuge. Another of Liv’s new friends, Fern had only seen him on the occasional video call. But something about him stood out—probably his hair.
She paused her book. “Elliott?”
His bushy brows pulled together. “Fern?”
“Hi. Yeah. I think I’m lost. Could you tell me how to get up to the town? I guess I can put it in my GP—”
“It won’t come up.” He lumbered over, and she couldn’t help but appreciate the way his pants pulled taut around his thick thighs with each step.
Two enormous hands landed on her doorframe, and her gaze flitted over his short nails, rough knuckles, the smear of dried clay on his wrist. He had an artist’s hands. She blinked the thought away as he leaned down to peer in her open window.
“You’ll need to—” With an inhale, his fingers clenched, muscles tightening all the way up his arms as he pushed away from her car. Stiffly, Elliott cracked his neck, and when his eyes met hers, they caught the light of her dashboard, glowing amber for a moment. Crossing his arms, he cleared his throat.
What the fuck? Did she smell? Have coffee breath? Or was she just too annoying for him? She scowled, recalling a rude comment he’d made on a phone call last month. Liv had just announced her pregnancy, and Fern reacted accordingly, only for this big jerk to call her “way too chatty” when she’d been ecstatic over the news.
“I’m not going to talk your ear off, Elliott. I just need directions, and I can get out of your hair.”
He growled—literallygrowled—not like Xyzandyr with his sexy snarls. “You can call me Fitz.”
A snort of laughter flew from her. “That’s an old-man name, butsure.”
