Page 31 of Chasing Shelter (Sparrow Falls #5)

ELLIE

The sound of a key in the lock had me bounding off the couch and crossing to Trace and Keely’s front door. By the time Trace opened it, I was already there. Everything about him looked exhausted, and it had only been a few hours.

“Keely?” he asked, shutting the door and leaning against it.

“Asleep. We took Gremlin for a walk. Did face masks. Read stories. She passed out halfway through Goodnight Moon .”

Trace let out a breath, leaning harder against the door as if he wanted the wood to swallow him whole.

“That bad?” I asked quietly.

Trace stared straight ahead, but I knew he wasn’t seeing me. It was something else entirely. “He’s in my head. Worse, he knows it.”

I wanted to junkpunch Jasper…whatever the hell his last name was so badly my hands fisted. I pulled in a slow breath, trying to ease my anger because Trace didn’t need that right now. Once I was a little steadier, I took a step closer. Then another.

I didn’t stop until I stood between Trace’s legs—so close I could feel his breath on my face. So close I could smell the sandalwood and black pepper. So close my skin warmed, thanks to the heat wafting off Trace in waves.

I lifted my hands and skimmed them over his face. “Let him go.” My fingers ghosted over Trace’s forehead, then his cheeks. “He has no place here.”

I expected Trace to close his eyes, but he didn’t. He kept them locked on my face as I moved. My fingertips skimmed across his face again, trying to clear away the demons that had caught hold.

“Some part of me believes you. Because you’re magic,” Trace rasped.

“Good,” I whispered. “Not afraid to use a little witchcraft to banish evil.”

Trace lifted his hand and trailed his thumb across my lower lip as if memorizing the swell. “Maybe I’m the one under your spell.”

My heart hammered against my ribs as I leaned into his touch. The rough pad of his thumb sent shivers sparking across my skin. “Somehow, I don’t think you can bend to the will of a little ole spell.”

Trace tracked his thumb across my lip, first one way and then the other. “Doesn’t feel like that. Feels like every ounce of resolve I have is crumbling.”

Blood roared in my ears and pounded at my pulse points. “I know the feeling.”

He leaned closer—so close our breaths mingled in the space between us. “Ready to tip those scales?”

I opened my mouth to answer, to say “ yes ,” to say, “ fuck the man-ban. ” I needed to know what it felt like to have Trace touch me. Really touch me.

“Daddy?” a sleepy voice sounded from the top of the stairs.

I jerked away from Trace’s sorcery, nearly falling on my ass in the process. Trace caught my elbow and kept me upright, which only made it worse. His fingers scalded, even through the sweater covering my arm.

“I’m home, Keels,” he called.

“Can you tuck me in again?” she mumbled.

“On my way.” Trace turned pained eyes to me and moved in again, pressing his lips to my temple and letting them hover there for a beat. “Guess it’s the witching hour.”

“I guess so.” My voice was barely audible as need pulsed through me in angry waves.

“Text me the second you’re home. Lock the door behind you.”

“Got it, Chief.”

“Killing me, Blaze.”

I looked up into those beautiful eyes, the green so dark it almost looked black. “Good.”

And then, I was gone.

“Maybe I’m the one under your spell.”

The words tumbled around and around in my head as I opened the doors to the old shed Mrs. Henderson had left in the backyard, the afternoon sun warming the cool fall air.

As a bleating sound came from behind me, I winced.

I hoped she wouldn’t mind what I was about to do.

But I’d replace the shed if I needed to.

For now, my goat friend needed somewhere to spend her nights until Trace’s place was ready.

Just thinking his name sent the words swirling in my mind again. “Maybe I’m the one under your spell.”

As if to knock some sense into me, Goaty—as I was calling her until I came up with something better—headbutted my leg. My hand dropped to give her a scratch as Gremlin chased imaginary butterflies. “I know, I know. Focus on the now.”

I studied the shed and looked down at the article I’d pulled up on my phone. So, You Got a Goat: a 10-Step Guide. “Well, I’ve got the hay, at least.”

I got to work hauling out the few remaining gardening supplies and piling in the hay I’d purchased from Feed & Friends that morning, along with the best goat feed I could find and bright pink pails for Goaty.

And I did it all while trying to ignore those words circling.

“ Maybe I’m the one under your spell.” And the feeling of Trace’s thumb on my lower lip.

“We’re not being dumb girls, Goaty.”

She let out another bleat in answer.

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit on myself, too,” I grumbled as I stared up at the top of the garden shed.

The article had said airflow was important.

Maybe this next step would help with my sexual frustration.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Henderson,” I muttered as I went in search of the handsaw I’d seen in the garage.

After much cursing and effort, Goaty had some vents under the eaves of the shed that should let air get through without allowing too much cold in. “What do you think, baby girl? Fit for the queen you are?”

Goaty hopped up into the shed, sniffed around, circled, and then plopped down. I grinned, a surge of pride filling me. I might not have had the rest of my life together, but at least I was giving Goaty and Gremlin good ones.

“I’ve got to come up with a better name than Goaty,” I mumbled. She just started snoring.

I laughed and then snapped a picture with my phone, sending it to Sarah in New York.

Me

I have officially entered my country-girl era.

Sarah

Is that a GOAT?! Should I be calling for an intervention?

Me

Let me live in my blissed-out state of delusion that I am actually a cowgirl.

Sarah

Yeehaw?

Another laugh bubbled out of me when she sent a GIF of a woman on one of those mechanical bulls. Then I cursed as I caught sight of the time on my screen. “We gotta go, Grem.” I quickly cleaned up my supplies and got Gremlin settled. Before long, I was in my SUV and on my way to Kye’s gym.

The only problem was that the short drive gave those words a chance to swirl in my mind all over again.

“Maybe I’m the one under your spell.” They were the same words that had kept me up for half the night, making my skin too hot and every nerve-ending stand at attention.

The fact that I could still feel Trace’s lips pressed to my temple didn’t help either.

Trace was haunting me. Awake or asleep, it didn’t matter. The echoes of him were everywhere.

Turning into the small parking lot outside Haven, I looked for a spot with the most room. Pulling into one at the end of a row, I opened my door to survey my parking job.

Epic fail.

My wheels had overshot the white lines completely. Pressing my lips together, I backed up and tried again. When I opened the door this time, it was a lot better. Not perfect, but good enough.

Turning off the engine, I hopped out and headed for the front door. A genuine smile tugged at my lips when I saw a familiar face. “What are you doing here?”

Arden smiled, and her massive dog, Brutus, thumped his tail. “ Freigeben ,” she told the beast in German. Brutus instantly made a beeline to me for a rubdown. “Kye told me you were coming for your first lesson. I had to be here for moral support and to cheer you on in kicking his ass.”

I laughed as I scratched behind Brutus’s ears. “A true friend.”

“I try,” she said with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, dropping my voice as if someone might overhear. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

Arden’s smile turned soft as she pressed a hand to her belly. “Mostly tired. A little nauseous. And craving all the french fries and milkshakes.”

“I bet Linc is thrilled with that last one.”

“He is far too smug that the babies love his favorite combo.”

“I bet,” I said, giving Brutus one more pat.

“You ready?” Arden asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

There was something about her showing up without me asking. Just because she knew I was trying something out of my wheelhouse. Her silent support meant more than she’d ever know.

Arden pulled open the door. The moment she did, music and foreign sounds filled the air.

The music had a distinct rock edge—not the super hard stuff Arden preferred, but the kind meant to prepare you for battle.

It was paired with a percussion all its own.

And as I stepped inside, I could see what created the beat.

About a dozen or so people were scattered throughout the massive space.

A few warmed up on treadmills or jumped rope.

Many were at punching bags, their fists making music as they connected with the surfaces.

And a couple were in what looked like practice rings.

The crowd was primarily male, but I saw one woman sparring and another hitting a bag.

But I was struck by far more than just the patrons.

The space itself was stunning. It had an industrial feel that I wouldn’t have thought would mesh with the Sparrow Falls vibe, but it somehow did.

The majority of the surfaces were black and gray, but the far wall that ran the length of the gym was a riot of color.

No, it was far more than color. It was art that came alive, the sort of mural that could reach out and touch you. It looked like a mesh of graffiti and fine art, the word Haven spelled out in massive letters at the center.

“Did you paint that?” I asked, pointing to the mural and then turning to Arden in admiration.

She instantly shook her head. “This is all Kye’s magic.”

“Seriously?” I asked, my shock evident in the single word. I hadn’t seen any of Kye’s tattoo work, but the mountain of a man clearly had amazing skills. “Maybe I need to rethink my aversion to needles.”

Arden chuckled. “I know, right? He’s pretty incredible.”