Page 45

The second knock came with a kind of casual insistence, and I relaxed my shoulders, gave Stella a meaningful look, and pulled open the front door.

And there he was.

Keegan.

All tousled hair and hazel eyes, shirt slightly rumpled like he’d just rolled out of bed and wandered through a perfume ad on the way here. He leaned one arm on the frame and gave me a lopsided grin that made my pulse do something I’d pretend was irritation later.

“Wow,” he said, eyes scanning me with dramatic flair. “You open a door like that again, and I might shift right here on the porch.”

Behind me, Stella snorted loud enough to make the rocking chair squeak.

Celeste, lounging on the couch with a tea mug half-raised to her lips, choked and sputtered. “Wait—what?”

“He’s kidding. He has a weird sense of humor. Nobody shifts into anything.”

He leaned his mouth next to my ear. “I could if that would help my chances with you.”

My belly tensed into something wonderful, but I pushed it away.

Skye cracked up, one hand cradling her belly. “Maeve, are you holding out on us?”

“I am not ,” I said, waving a hand between Keegan and the now-very-interested audience. “He’s just… dramatic.”

Keegan winked.

“Go inside,” I hissed through my teeth. “You’re not helping.”

“I disagree,” he murmured. “I think I’m helping tremendously.”

And that’s when I noticed the rest of the problem.

Because standing just behind Keegan, peering over his shoulder and practically vibrating with suppressed goblin energy, was Twobble.

Wearing a cloak far too dramatic for the situation and standing next to my dad, who looked like he’d been recently bribed with bacon to behave.

My stomach dropped. “No.”

Twobble grinned. “What? We came for the snack event. It smelled festive!”

“No,” I repeated, stepping forward.

Keegan tipped his head, saw my daughter, and winced . “Uh-oh.”

“Yup.”

“What?” Twobble asked, marching forward.

My dad gave an approving snort and tried to follow.

I practically lunged, wedging myself between Twobble and the doorway.

“No magical creatures inside! Not today!” I hissed.

From behind me, Celeste’s voice drifted out, full of curiosity. “Mom? Is that a dog?”

Skye added, “Why does it sound like he’s trying to speak?”

Oh, great. They think Twobble is the dog speaking.

“He’s just snuffly,” I called back. “Old rescue. Very… expressive.”

Twobble tugged on Keegan’s sleeve. “You’re going to have to carry me in a blanket or a basket or something. Pretend I’m a therapy cat. Or one of those really small, angry grandmas, but I’m not standing on the porch all day.”

“Absolutely not,” I whispered, panicked.

Keegan pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting all of his life choices that led to this moment.

“Why don’t I just tell them you’re my oddly shaped uncle who prefers crawling and smells faintly of moss?”

“ Flattering, ” Twobble said. “Also, not untrue.”

“Back,” I said, trying to push them both off the porch.

“Maeve,” Skye called, laughing, “are you body-checking someone out there?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you blushing ?” Celeste called.

“No!” I said far too loudly.

Keegan smirked. “You are a little pink.”

I shot him a glare and hissed, “You can flirt later. Get them out of here before Twobble starts reenacting Les Mis or my dad starts sniffing his behind.”

“I’ll take him around the back,” Keegan offered. “Maybe sneak Twobble into the shed. You know, for safety.”

“I am not being stashed in a shed like a rogue raccoon!” Twobble protested.

Keegan already had my dad’s collar in one hand and Twobble under the arm like a struggling cabbage.

“Play along,” Keegan said. “Just until it’s safe.”

Twobble crossed his arms. “You better bring me snacks.”

“Bribery is my love language,” Keegan muttered, and they vanished down the side path toward the garden.

I closed the door slowly, pressed my forehead against the wood, and whispered, “Why is this my life?”

Behind me, Stella’s laughter rolled out like warm bread from the oven.

“Because, darling,” she said, sipping her tea, “you were never meant for normal.”

The moment I shut the door behind Keegan, my dad, and a very grumbly Twobble, I whirled around like someone trying to hide a wildfire with a napkin.

My eyes darted to the wide windows flanking the living room, giving a perfect view of the herb path winding around the side of the house, with Keegan hauling and pushing various creatures along with him.

Skye’s brows furrowed as she noticed Keegan hunching over and sneaking by.

“Stella,” I whispered, gripping her elbow like a woman hanging off a magical cliff. “Help me block the other windows.”

She blinked, mid-sip of tea. “Are we under siege?”

“These are the best snacks in the world,” Celeste said dreamily as she reached for another pastry.

“Not exactly,” I hissed, yanking the nearest curtain shut, “but my goblin friend just tried to stroll into the living room and introduce himself to my daughter.”

“Ooh,” Stella said, her voice dropping to an understanding hum. “We’re in stealth mode.”

“Exactly. Stealth. Mode.”

She snapped her fingers. “I have a spell that makes drapes look drawn even when they’re open. They won’t see outside.”

“Of course you do.”

I caught a flicker of movement as Keegan herded Twobble past one of the sheds like he was wrangling a disobedient toddler with pockets full of grenades.

“Stella,” I whispered again, more frantic now.

“I’m on it,” she muttered, tossing a handful of dried lavender and chamomile into the air and chanting softly.

The curtains shimmered, then stilled as Celeste glanced toward the side window.

I blinked. “That’s... actually amazing.”

“I have my moments.”

I walked to the kitchen and noticed the door pop open.

“Frank,” I muttered. “No.”

Too late.

The old bulldog trotted in like he owned the place, no subtlety, no shame, and curled up by the fire, and let out a heavy groan as he plopped down like a retired warrior sighing over lost battles.

Celeste, who was now stretched out on the sofa with one of the hand pies in hand, perked up.

“Oh my god, that’s the dog?” she asked. “I thought I was hallucinating earlier. He looks like he’s been through it.”

My daughter was very astute as my dad kept one eye propped on the granddaughter he’d never met.

“He’s the most loyal dog ever.” I smiled, knowing my dad was loving every second.

Skye, who had both feet propped up and a teacup balanced on her belly, chuckled. “He looks like he’s about to tell us stories from the war.”

I cleared my throat and offered the most neutral smile I could muster. “That’s Frank. He’s, uh, lived here a long time.”

“He’s cute in a grumpy-bear-meets-deflated-footstool kind of way,” Celeste said, reaching down to scratch behind his ear.

My dad huffed and blinked at me before flopping his head onto his paw.

I sank into the armchair, finally letting myself breathe.

The food Stella had conjured was nothing short of a miracle, from little mushroom tarts, roasted apple slices with cinnamon glaze, and a tea that smelled faintly of mint and something that might have been hope.

Celeste had already claimed three hand pies and was eyeing a fourth.

Skye looked more relaxed than she had in months, and the whole room glowed with cozy contentment.

“I can see why you wanted to move here,” Skye said after a long sip of tea. “It’s quaint, calm, and quiet. Honestly, this cottage might be the most peaceful place I’ve ever been.”

I smiled tightly, sipping my own tea to hide the twitch at the corner of my mouth.

Calm. Quiet. Quaint.

If only she knew the pantry whispered sometimes. Or that the armchair would occasionally scoot closer if it thought you needed comfort. Or that there was currently a goblin sneaking past the side window with a pastry in his hand, chased by a wolf trying not to snarl audibly.

“Oh, it’s... something,” I said, biting back a laugh.

Celeste stretched and nestled deeper into the throw pillows. “And the food’s amazing. Please tell me this is your doing.”

“Actually, that’s my friend Stella’s magic—uh, touch. ”

“I like her,” Skye said. “She’s got that unbothered, knows-your-secrets vibe. Like she can smell fear... and underseasoned potatoes.”

“Oh, she definitely can,” I muttered.

Celeste laughed and then leaned her head on my shoulder again. “I’m so glad to be home.”

I kissed the top of her head, letting the soft weight of her presence sink in.

“Me too,” I whispered.

Because even if the world outside this little cottage was brimming with shadows and secrets I hadn’t yet untangled, this moment right now was everything I’d fought for.

And even if “quiet” wasn’t what I’d really wanted...

Having them here?

It was exactly what I needed.