Page 5

DELILAH

T he next morning, Celestial Pines woke wrapped in silver fog and the scent of damp pine. Delilah wrapped a scarf twice around her neck and stared at her reflection in the mirror above Wren’s tea cabinet. Her hazel eyes looked more rested than they had in days.

She hated that she knew why.

Rollo, with his quiet voice and rough hands and the sanctuary that didn’t look like it should suit him—but did.

Delilah shook her head and slipped on her shoes.

She wasn’t here for him. She was here for Wren. For the town. For the woods that whispered in her dreams like they missed her.

Still, she tucked an extra sprig of elderflower in her pocket for the phoenix pup, and another for her nerves.

The sanctuary sat nestled against the forest edge like it had grown there, all mossy shingles and leaning fences and early crocuses blooming despite the chill. Delilah stepped through the main gate, the old iron creaking under her hand.

“Back again?” Rollo’s voice called out before she saw him.

He was kneeling in the herb patch just past the side porch, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dirt smudging his forearms like old ink. His hair was tied back today, and the sight of him like that—domestic, rooted—sent something warm and unwanted through her chest.

“Told you I would,” she said, careful to keep her tone even.

He stood, wiping his hands on a cloth. “I didn’t think you were the type to bluff.”

“I’m not. I’m also not the type to be ignored. So... I’m here. To help. When I’m not tending to Wren.”

His eyes softened. “She doing any better?”

Delilah shook her head. “Still weak. The house feels hollow without her magic pulsing through it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, and the way he said it—not out of obligation, but like he meant it deep in his bones—made her throat tighten.

She cleared it fast. “So? What do you want me to do?”

“Come on,” he said, motioning toward the stables. “I’ll show you where the real chaos lives.”

The stables weren’t glamorous. Not by any stretch.

They were warm and full of straw and smelled like damp fur, wet hay, and magic. Tiny jars of glowing salves lined one wall. A trio of owlets blinked at her from the rafters.

“What’s that smell?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Bunyip pup got into the fermented moonfruit again. Threw up all night.”

Delilah laughed before she could stop herself.

Rollo grinned. “Glad to know I can still make you laugh.”

She arched a brow. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You smell like compost and regret.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch.”

She rolled up her sleeves. “Show me what needs doing.”

They worked side by side for the better part of the morning.

Delilah helped clean the phoenix pup’s nest, using a light warming charm on the water while Rollo replaced the stones.

They fed the owlets together—him slicing tiny bits of enchanted meat, her casting a calming charm that made the fluffballs sigh contentedly.

Their hands bumped. More than once.

The air between them sparked—warm, buzzing. Like it used to.

Delilah tried not to notice. Failed spectacularly.

At one point, Rollo knelt beside a wounded thistle hare, gently brushing its thorny fur with a salve that glowed blue. Delilah watched the way his brow furrowed in concentration, how he whispered to the creature like it was sacred.

He hadn’t just changed. He’d grown.

“Didn’t know you were such a softie,” she said, tossing him a fresh bandage.

Rollo caught it easily. “Guess you never stuck around long enough to find out.”

Delilah’s stomach flipped. She snapped back, “Not like you gave me much of a choice.”

Low blow. But not unfair.

Rollo stiffened, but said nothing as they continued on.

She busied herself tying a fresh ribbon around a bundle of herbs, fingers tight.

“This place is good,” she murmured after a while. “Better than I expected.”

He looked up, one brow raised. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it before I change my mind.”

He chuckled. “You’re a menace.”

“I get it from Wren.”

That drew a real smile from him—slow, genuine. It made her chest ache with memories. What was wrong with her?

He set down the salve. “I know you’ve got your hands full. But if you ever want to stay on here, more permanent-like…”

Delilah paused.

“As of now, I’m here for Wren as long as she needs me,” she said. “But I’m just going to take it day by day.”

“That’s fair.”

They worked in silence for a bit longer. A comfortable quiet. The kind that used to stretch long into evenings before everything went sideways between them.

Delilah brushed dirt from her palms and stood. “I should head back. Wren’s due for another tonic and her spirit candle’s acting up again.”

Rollo nodded, standing too. “Thanks for the help.”

She gave a half-smile. “Thanks for not being a total ass.”

His grin widened. “High praise.”

She turned to leave, but paused at the door unable to help herself.

“Hey, Rollo?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t trust you.”

He blinked. “Okay…”

“But I want to.”

That shut him up.

Delilah walked out with the last word and the breeze behind her, the scent of pine and old feelings clinging to her coat.