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“We do,” Grandmother replied. “There is a part of the preparation process where the petals must be burned at the edges. I thought I would save some time and do every petal at once. But I slipped, and the flower was destroyed. I’m so sorry. My hands aren’t what they used to be.”

She squeezed her shawl, her bony fingers locking around the old wool.

“It is getting warmer now. With any luck the snow should thaw a few days after it settles. I’ll send Ben up next time. You shouldn’t have to go twice.”

“Tell him to go up further than us,” Luna said. “Get a bunch. Abouquetof divorce flowers.”

“I will.” She came forward and laid a hand on Luna’s arm, apologetic. “The snowwillthaw soon,” she said again. “It’s spring, after all.”

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Luna’s forehead. Then she leaned up and did the same to Oliver, hand brushing his hair before she trailed out of the room, still clinging to her shawl.

Oliver watched the door close behind her. Something was itching at the back of his head. He couldn’t figure out what it was.

“I guess you should call your fiancé back,” he told Luna.

He risked a glance at her to find her watching the door as well, hereyes narrowed.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head. Started for the door. He followed, trying to identify that strange itch at the back of his head.

“That was weird,” she said finally as they walked down the hall. “Like,shewas weird. Right?”

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked.

Luna gave him an expectant look. Before Oliver could ask again, realization jolted through him in a sickening wave: it was suspicion.Thatwas the itch. His and Luna’s, tangling together through the bond.

“She’s not a liar,” Oliver said. “If she says she slipped?—”

“I’venever seen her hands shake,” Luna insisted, folding her arms over the baggy shirt she’d changed into after the hike. “Have you?”

He paused. She was slower these days, but he’d never seen her hands shake either.

“It wouldn’t have gone up in flames all at once,” Luna continued. “There would be SOME petals left. Enough for us.”

“She wouldn’t—” Oliver cut off, wetting his lips. “Why would she lie? Your wedding is coming up.”

“I don’t know,” Luna said slowly. She toyed with a strand of blonde hair. “Maybe she wants to keep me around. Free marketing.”

She flashed him an impish smile. There was an edge to it he didn’t recognize, but Oliver was too awash in a realization he didn’t want to dwell on it.

“You think she’smakingyou stay? She wouldn’t.”

Luna hummed consideringly. She came to a stop infront of Grandmother Musgrove’s door, the furthest door on their side of the inn. Just like back home. The home that had been in the Musgrove pack for six generations, the home that was nothing but ash because Oliver was a gullible idiot.

“We don’t go into her room,” Oliver said. “That’s her private space. It would be disrespectful.”

Luna made a face. “You know what else is disrespectful? Trapping an innocent woman with your grandson.”

She reached for the doorknob.

Oliver pushed her aside, grabbing it himself. If there was going to be someone invading his grandmother’s privacy, it would be better if it was family. Real family, not whatever Luna was.

“If it will make you be quiet,” he said.

Then he opened the door.

For a second, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Then he heard Luna make a sound, not quite a gasp and not quite a squeak. She was shocked, even though she’d said it—she’dsaidit—but she didn’t actually expect it.