Page 30 of The Arcane Taste of the Witchwood Boys (The Witchwood Boys #4)

Kate

I’m leery of this idea, but I trust my coven so here I am.

Tanner appears in the shadows of the forested spare lot behind our house, a dead hog slung over his shoulder. I squint as he moves from the darkness of the canopy into the early (and increasingly rare) autumn sunshine.

“You’re sure you’re not hungry?” Brooks asks me for the umpteenth time. Doesn’t bother me though. He’s asking because he wants to make certain that if I feel a different sort of hunger, I’ll know where it’s coming from. His efforts to make sure I got a full tummy this morning were valiant. I named a half-dozen dishes that I wanted for breakfast, and he made them all from scratch. Some he had to look up because he’d never heard of them before, the rest he knew by heart.

I am so stupidly in love with Brooks McDowell.

“I’m sure.” I glance over at Marlowe. He’s watching Tanner make his way to us with a dead animal like it’s no big thing, just another day in the life of a modern witch. Bullshit. Look at Lo’s hands, the way he digs his fingertips into his forearms. “You’ll be okay, West.”

“Me?” He raises a brow and casts a disdainful look back at me. “I’m not the one I’m worried about. You being okay is what matters, and you’re not okay. So don’t give me that shit.” He turns back to Tanner as the shirtless, scarred hunter chucks the corpse into the grass at my feet.

It has tusks. Six tusks. It has horns, like a bull. Two tails. Definitely from the Witchwoods.

“Since it crossed over, it stayed here?” Tanner asks, anticipating my question before I can ask it. He looks to Brooks for an answer. “Or else, the gate is still ajar.”

“No Hag Wytch, so who gives a fuck? If it’s open, it’s open. We’re dealing with Kate’s curse, and then we’re living in luxury and comfort for the rest of our lives.” Brooks steps forward and draws the penis-athame from his belt. He hands it over to Tanner, leaving him to gut the monster.

“You’re such a liar,” I tease, poking Brooks with my elbow. “You love playing the hero.”

“Katelynn.” Said like Brooks is trying to reprimand me. This time, I don’t just poke him with my elbow, I jam it into his rib cage and he grunts. He smiles, too. “If it bothers you to leave the gate open, we can try to close it from our end, but we are never, ever, fucking ever going in there again.”

“Not true,” I whisper, and Marlowe scoffs.

But then Tanner is plunging the knife into the boar’s side and splitting it from snout to tail. Blood and intestines spill out into the grass in front of me, a slosh of red that hits the toes of my boots—

—I black out.

And then I come to feeling like I could burst. I hiccup, and slap both hands over my mouth. The boar is gone. Completely gone. There’s a small divot and some bloodstained grass, a fleck of muscle tissue here and a tiny bone shard there.

I drop my hands down and stare at them, covered in red. I can taste it in my mouth. I can feel the boar’s soul in my stomach.

I look up and all three men are staring at me with uneasy expressions.

“This is fine. We’ll keep feeding you until we figure this out. As much as you need.” Brooks turns to Tanner, but I’m on my feet and stumbling up to them before they can go down this route.

“No humans, please. Just … don’t murder people for me.” I’m grabbing onto Marlowe’s shirt, trying to get him to look at me because I know he’ll have no problem doing just that. Tanner either. Or Brooks. They’d all kill to feed me if they had to.

“If I need to eat people for whatever reason, I’ll do it myself. I don’t want you involved.” I release Marlowe, but he snags me around the waist and holds me there. I look up at him and remember him punching my hand and breaking it in this very yard.

I flipped his attitude overnight, didn’t I? That was a good move on my part.

“Are you worried about the police or something?” Brooks asks, cocking his head at me. His hat looks so confused, and his shadow darts back and forth between the bushes behind him. “Don’t be. They’re the least of our worries. It’s a hundred times easier to spell a person than to close an ancient, magical gate.”

I’m about to argue with him. He thinks I’m worried about the police? Did he ever consider that I just don’t want my coven to hurt innocent people?

A toad appears on a rock near the edge of the deck. It has a single red eye with a square pupil. The atmosphere is strange as I go still with a sudden memory, something I haven’t talked about with the guys yet.

There was a thing in the Witch’s Tree, something with claws and a big eye with a square pupil, like a goat. Like this toad. The imagery is not lost on me. What the hell was that thing? The toad expands its vocal sac and then hops into the bushes, disappearing from sight.

Marlowe’s phone rings, and he frowns as he draws it out of his pocket. Tanner leans in to look, and they exchange a glance before Lo answers. It’s weird, seeing him use a phone so casually, but I’m proud. He’s adapting quickly. He can help Brooks and Tanner with theirs.

Clang, clang, clang. The sound of my broken, beating heart.

“Uh-huh. It’s definitely easier to get in touch with me than with her. Kate doesn’t even look at her notifications. One second.” Marlowe puts the phone down and turns to Brooks, like he’s got a question specifically for him. “Georgia says the cops are at her house. The ones from the Witchwoods. She wants us to come over there.”

“We’re definitely going over there,” I say, putting my hands on my hips and shifting my wings. I’m covered head-to-toe in blood. The cute outfit I slipped into is soaked. Pale denim shorts with real holes, earned by yours truly while painting. A crop top to accommodate my wings. A ponytail.

I probably look terrifying, especially with my hat trying to gobble up all the leftovers.

“This’ll be the last meeting. Tell Georgia we’re on the way.” Brooks turns like that’s that, leaving me with Tanner and Marlowe.

Sort of.

He pauses in the kitchen, all of ten feet away from us, and starts fiddling around like he’s annoyed he has to wait at all.

I steal the phone from Marlowe.

“It’s me,” I tell Georgia, turning away so I can’t see the men looking at me. “What’s up?”

“The three Witchwoods escapees are at my house. They’re threatening us in an attempt to get answers I don’t have, and it’s seriously pissing me off. So, I either need you guys to come and deal with them or I need a spell that deals with them. Tell Brooks to start giving us all lessons, so I can write my own spells.”

Georgia is cranky and demanding a lot, but a lightbulb goes off in my head.

A lightbulb my coven cannot know about. Bingo. Spell writing lessons.

“For sure. I’ll ask him about the lessons. And we’ll be right over.” I hang up and turn, clutching the phone to my bloody chest.

“Your ass looks nice in those shorts,” Marlowe tells me, licking his mouth and running his tongue over his teeth. His dark eyes are all over me, and I realize he has most definitely noticed my outfit and approves. He likes it even better now, wet and bloody and sticking to my skin.

I clear my throat.

“Thank you.”

“Huh.” Lo snatches the phone from me and moves up the deck stairs to join Brooks. His hat’s just sprouted honeysuckle and fuzzy bees.

“Tits look real good, too.” Tanner gestures at me with a casual hand, the other propped on his hip. “That scrap of fabric isn’t going to hide anything though. Go change before we leave.”

I slap my hands over my breasts, trying to block them from view.

“Georgia is my friend, and this is my fault. We should hurry.” I start to move around him, but he shifts to block my way. I was going to wash up anyway, but I hate when they order me to do the most logical, reasonable thing there is.

I hesitate, almost shy in a situation where shyness is fucking hilarious. We’ve been through it all, me and these men. The Witchwoods. Death. Hell. Social media. I clear my throat and raise my chin, but my nipples are like rocks.

“What? Are we keeping secrets from Brooks and Marlowe now?” I tease, lifting a hand to my mouth to whisper. “Do you have something to tell me, Tanner?”

“Never. No fucking secrets.” Tanner tilts his hat brim up and out of his face, casting a crescent moon shadow over his eyes. I hesitate under that stare. “You’re such a terrible liar, Kate.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, blinking my way through the confusion as I wait for an explanation.

Tanner isn’t smiling.

“Take this as your ultimate challenge, Kate. Will you break the curse first? Or will we?” Tanner walks up to stand beside me, his hand dropping to my elbow, fingers hot and possessive and tight against my skin. “Prove that you have a right to challenge Brooks. That you make better decisions than me. Than Marlowe.”

I reach down and put my fingers over his, clasping tight.

We stare at each other.

“I’ll prove it,” I tell him, and that’s it. I don’t say anything else. I just watch the blood drip from his nose, and I know without a doubt that I’d rather kick them in the nuts and break their hearts than eat them. Than live with the knowledge that their souls are trapped inside of me. Than search for someone to take my place just so we can all die. That won’t be our end.

I won’t allow it.

Tanner sniffles and then swipes his arm under his nose.

I suppose if that’s the worst thing we have to worry about in our relationship—that is, who’s willing to sacrifice more than the other person—then we’ve made it.

We’re not falling in love. We are in love.

And it’s a race to the finish line that I can’t allow them to win.

We pull up to Georgia’s house in the truck, and this time, she lets my entire coven in the front door.

“Finally. I’m this close to spelling them both with stomach cramps and liquid diarrhea.” Georgia steps aside, and I notice something strange from the corner of my eye. Is … is that a floating quill pen scribbling black cursive across the white silk of her tiny top hat?

I lean in and squint at it.

The words read: Is … is that a floating quill pen scribbling black—

“What the fuck?” I stumble back and hit the wall as Georgia blushes and reaches up, trying to stop the pen from doing its thing. Marlowe squeezes in past me, ignoring my friend but rubbing his sexy body all along the front of me.

The quill pen starts writing something different, and the previous words disappear.

The pen scrawls the following message: I wish we weren’t here dealing with police stuff. I’d much rather be at home in bed—

I blush and clamp my hands over my mouth. The hat is writing my thoughts down. It’s writing my thoughts . Hell no. My thoughts are insane. Nobody needs to know what’s going on inside this crazy head of mine.

“I know, I know. If I stare at someone for too long, it starts … yeah, my hat writes down snippets of thought.” Georgia looks away, reaching up to tear the headband off and letting it hang by her side. Trying to stifle a laugh, I’ll bet. “And all this time, I thought Fernanda was the biggest perv in our friend group.”

I drop my hands from my gaping mouth, trying to come up with a defense and realizing I have none. Georgia is right: I’m the naughty one now.

Brooks pats my head as he strolls past.

“Nobody is surprised, Kate. Nobody.”

Tanner pauses in the doorway, wolf ears swiveling to collect sound. Flick is right on his heels, as loyal to Tanner as he is disloyal to me.

“Ah, the other guy is here too, eh?” Tanner asks, and it isn’t until Georgia herds me into the kitchen that I see the YouTuber dude—Hoax—standing awkwardly in the corner. Fernanda is leaning over the counter beside him, gazing up with awe as his shadow studies hers on the cabinets behind them. Tacy is perched on the countertop beside her while Talia digs through Georgia’s parents’ fridge in search of something to eat.

Both John Gilley and Officer Viv sit at the table together, a German shepherd lying on the floor at the latter’s feet. Ah, right, Viv was a K-9 officer. I’d almost forgotten that.

“Why the fuck are you bothering my wife’s friends?” Brooks asks, annoyed. Marlowe circles around the table while Tanner appears to be distracted by the outdated vino-and-grapes decor. Appears, being the key word. He’s analyzing all the points of entry, most likely. A half-dozen windows. A single door. An arched entry from the living room.

Neither Gilley nor Viv stand up when we walk in. They sit there, sipping to-go coffees. Gilley holds his up for Brooks to see, as if Brooks is going to care about whatever quip he might make.

“Got our own coffee today. Didn’t fancy being drugged again.” Gilley snorts and takes another sip of his drink as Brooks plants his hands on his hips with a sigh. Flannel shirt undone. It’s a dark green with black stripes. Underneath, he’s wearing a gray wifebeater. The largest eye on his hat twitches in frustration.

“This is a conversation I will only have once. What is it that you want?” Brooks stares the two officers down, glancing briefly at the influencer, Hoax.

Tanner is yawning, stretching his arms overhead and lifting his shirt up a few inches in the front. Hot, sexy navel and a touch of blonde hair leading into his— He pretends like he’s not on alert, but he is. Always. Viv’s dog notices, baring his teeth at Tanner until Tanner bares his right back. With a whine, the shepherd lays his head down on his front paws.

Our own dog is oblivious, smiling wildly and sitting at his master’s side with a manic tail wag. I offer Flick a quick pat on the head and he licks my fingers in solidarity. My hat, yeah, it licks him right back.

“Fernanda asked Hoax to come over,” Georgia explains with a tired sigh, straightening out her UCSC sweatshirt (it has a banana slug on it, the college’s official mascot). “Didn’t ask for these cops to follow him.”

“Well, detective. Officer. Here it goes. Your final pleas. What do you want from us?” Brooks crosses his arms and waits while Tanner not-so-surreptitiously moves to cover the back door. It leads directly from the kitchen to the back deck. Nobody’s getting out that way now.

Err. What? Why am I thinking like that? These are cops. This is insane.

“Humboldt County has dozens of missing persons cases—not to mention murders—that lead right back to you.” Gilley pretends to be calm. He’s not. He’s afraid of us.

He should be.

“It was the Hag Wytch,” Marlowe whispers, hand cupped around Gilley’s ear. The abrupt transition and the cool delivery of those words has John spooked. He’s got goose bumps on the back of his neck. Bet he didn’t see Marlowe move. I know I didn’t. “She has an insatiable appetite for human flesh.”

Marlowe’s dark eyes find mine, and there’s a pang of sympathy behind that cavalier disregard.

“The initial murders were the … that owl thing. I can appreciate the truth in that since I saw her for myself.” Gilley’s eyes flick over to Hoax, and the man shifts, looking away and putting a hand over his empty shirt sleeve. The detective sighs and rubs at his temple. “But what about all the missing people? I’m working cases where family members swear that their loved ones vanished before their eyes. I want answers. I know you four have them.”

“Answers about what?” Tanner asks, stepping away from the door and flattening his hat’s ears. “Was anyone that went missing important? Just worthless child killers, rapists, and murderers. Trash that isn’t worth worrying about.”

Flick barks his agreement, and then takes a mouthful of the denim at Tanner’s ankle and tugs on it. Herding breeds, man. Weirdest (and best) dogs ever.

“Some, sure, but not all of—” Gilley begins.

Marlowe knocks the man’s coffee over with a wave of his hand, draws the liquid up into the air, and then holds it there without so much as blinking an eye.

“I will drown you with this latte if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Aw. Lo’s trying to protect me from the truth. I appreciate it, even as I know on instinct the things I’ve done wrong. Not everyone that I ate had it coming. I’m not entirely innocent here, and I know that. I accept it.

“You guys are absolutely useless.” Georgia throws her hands up in frustration. “If all you were going to do is threaten them, I could’ve handled this myself. Erase their memories or something. Do you need us to leave so you can gang-bang my best friend on the floor for a spell?”

I drop my head back with a groan as Talia howls with laughter and Brooks smirks, leaning over and putting his own hands on the edge of the table. The coffee spatters to the wood surface in front of Gilley, hitting the front of his shirt. None of the droplets touch our coven, so Brooks’ shirt stays clean despite his proximity.

His hat studies Viv while he stares at Gilley with his own green eyes.

“We did our very best to limit casualties to violent offenders, but things happen.” Brooks blinks his hat eyes, and they sound sticky. I’m sure that’s intentional. Gives it that extra ick that our coven excels in. My hat eats the discarded coffee cup and licks its lips. Marlowe has grown poison oak, leaves drifting across the tabletop. “What of it? There’ll be no evidence anyway. Is magic a permissible murder weapon in court?”

“Are you … admitting to hurting people?” Gilley snorts in disbelief, and Brooks laughs. That bothers the detective more than anything else that he’s said thus far. I can see why. It sounds unhinged. Tanner leans back against the door, shadow tails swaying like he’s bored.

I’m never falling for that casual act again: the man sees everything. Sees me, too. Winks at me.

I wink back, and he loves it. Surprises him a little, too.

“This is me extending you a courtesy. This is me being nice.” Brooks puts a hand to his chest. “No matter what we do, you will forget all about it or we will kill you. I could erase your memory, too, but I’m doing my best to be respectful. You are, in fact, an untrained witch now.”

“I’m not a goddamn witch,” Gilley retorts, but he doesn’t get very far with his protests.

“I want a coven,” Viv blurts suddenly, like she’s here for an entirely different reason. “Just tell me how to find a coven of my own.” She exhales and looks down at the table, sounding like she’s frustrated beyond belief. “I need one more than I need to breathe. It’s a physical ache.”

Gilley is stunned, but Brooks just sighs as he stands up.

“If you want to taste the depth of my depravity and obsession, keep bothering me. Bother my wife’s friends. Take up valuable space in my day. If we’re continually harassed by anyone—the authorities, the media, the public—then I have no qualms about making even more people disappear. Is that understood?” He looks to Viv next. “As far as a coven? You have two Southwoods and a Westwoods here. If you want another breed of witch, go back into those woods and take a few friends.”

“If you want to stop trending or … well, if you want the world to think you guys are incapable of murder, I could help.” Hoax lifts up his remaining hand. “I’ve already done a video about how the Witchwoods legend is bullshit. Let’s make another, debunking you guys as witches.”

Fernanda swoons, and Tacy frets, and Georgia rubs her temples. Talia eats macarons. Both cops are looking at Brooks like they might challenge him.

“No,” Brooks declares as Gilley turns to him and opens his big mouth. No words come out because Brooks’ shadow grabs Gilley’s around the neck and silences him in the process. “That was it. I’m done talking.”

His shadow drags Gilley’s toward the front door, and the man goes stumbling after them, grabbing at his neck like he’s struggling to breathe.

Officer Viv is smarter and quicker, rising to her feet and taking her dog with her. She looks over at Hoax, and their eyes meet, and I feel instantly bad for Fernanda. Viv and Hoax look at each other like they’re desperate. I remember what the boys told me, about how awful it was to have magic, to be a witch, and to live with an incomplete coven.

“Let me know if you need my help.” Hoax leaves through the back door with Viv.

They’ll form a coven, no doubt about it.

I turn to Georgia, clasping my hands behind my back. My friend and I look at each other.

“Why was Hoax here?” I ask gently, knowing how insane this all is but understanding that if anyone can handle it, it’s Georgia.

“Fernanda has a crush on him. I had no idea they were following him or how the two cops ended up together in the first place.” Georgia looks past me at Brooks. “You need to start giving us lessons. If you don’t want to train the other three witches in this world, then I’ll do it. Help me so I can help them.”

I look up at Brooks, expecting him to argue, but his gaze shifts to one side. All of his gazes, really. He looks at the floor in thought as Marlowe and Tanner move up to stand on either side of him, effectively blocking the kitchen off from the living room area where I’m standing with Georgia. The rest of her coven is on the other side of them, and I can see right away that nobody likes that arrangement.

The men shift, and so do the women. Then it’s our coven in a row looking back at theirs.

“Fine. I’ll teach you.” Brooks lifts up a hand, showing off his wedding ring in the process. Red gem with interlaced triangles in black. Silver setting. My own throbs, and I close my eyes just before it hits.

Another nightmare that cuts through me like a cold sword.

Tanner … Marlowe … Brooks … shoving those blades through their chests.

I come to with one hand clutching hard to Tanner’s bicep, making him bleed. I guiltily withdraw my claws from his skin, but he snatches my wrist to keep me from moving any further away.

“You okay?” he whispers, lips near my ear, and I nod.

Georgia is giving us an odd look, like she knows something is up.

“The Hag thing, is this going to be a problem?” she asks, sliding her wooden twig wand from her pocket. She raps the wood against her left palm like an angry school teacher, and I realize that I might be forced into explaining this to her against my will.

Georgia’s sisters, Blythe and Bea (owners of the overpriced lemonade stand in the front yard), burst through the front door. They come barreling into the kitchen holding their phones, recording us live for social media. And also wearing cheap Halloween witch hats.

“We’re on your side,” Bea (the younger of the two) tells us, walking right up to me. I turn and my coak swirls like liquid ink and black fog. “You’re not a killer, Kate.”

“Uh, what?” I ask, cringing as Georgia steals the phones from both girls, turning them off and tucking them into her pocket despite their protests.

“Rude,” Blythe murmurs, turning to look at me with a sly, curious expression. Her dark eyes gleam. “Which one’s your boyfriend, Kate?” she asks, hungry for gossip. Her gaze skips over the men, and her cheeks turn pink. Ah. Ahem. Boy-crazy teenager.

“They’re all my husbands.” I lift my hand, showing off my ring. If it’s going to zing me with nightmares, it may as well showcase my love.

“Dude, I wish I had a single boyfriend. Just one.” Blythe reaches out a finger, like she might touch Marlowe’s arm. He steps back and puts his palms up, a scowl on his face.

“Get away from me. What are you, fucking twelve or something?” he snaps, and Blythe turns beet red.

“I’m fourteen,” she growls, and then she takes off and I hear yelling until a door slams upstairs. Blythe and Georgia are nothing alike at all. Polar opposites.

Bea is giggling as she uses a second phone to snap photos of me and the men, and then she, too, runs off and disappears into the vast expanse of the Appleby’s three-thousand-square-foot Victorian house. This place has nooks upon crannies upon basements and attics and outbuildings and … yeah. If the girls don’t want to be found, you can’t find them.

Except with magic maybe.

“Sorry about that,” Georgia explains apologetically. Everything is almost funny and cute and lighthearted there for a minute. My friend looks exasperated and Talia has thrown a macaron at Marlowe’s back, and we’ve threatened the cops, and … I’m dizzy.

I’m hungry.

I wet my lips and try to focus on what Georgia’s saying. Something about quitting college and living with her coven here in Humboldt—in their own place, for obvious reasons.

I can’t concentrate. All I can do is stare at her neck, and she picks up on it right away.

“Shit.” A curse from her and a shared look with Brooks. “What can we do to help with this nightmare?”

Fernanda puts Georgia’s hat back on for her, and I see something scribbled across the brim. Is Kate going to keep eating people? That’s what it writes, and Georgia cringes, reaching up and taking it off again to read the words.

“Ah, sorry. If I’m not concentrating hard enough, it writes my thoughts instead of other people’s. Big downside to this power.”

“I might have to keep eating,” I admit, tucking my lip under my teeth as I glance back at the men. “But maybe not people? Game meat seems to work just fine. Don’t worry about the curse. We’ll get it sorted.”

I’m still looking at my coven. Three huge witches. Three twitchy shadows. Pointed hats. Mismatched expressions.

Brooks is contemplative. Tanner is fixated. Marlowe is pissed off.

“You sure you don’t want that Hoax guy’s info? He could help with your, uh, public image.” Georgia puts her hat back on, and I start to see my own thoughts being written out. How am I supposed to handle this curse if my coven won’t let me handle it?

“Crap.” I say that out loud, and Brooks sighs.

“Again, not unexpected, Kate.” He turns to Georgia, like he’s not concerned with my escape plans. “If we want this problem to go away, we need to convince people we’re not threats.” Brooks considers this for a moment, the eyes on his hat blinking. “We need to neuter ourselves in the public eye.”

“What about the sex tape?” Tacy asks the question, not me. She cringes like she’s sorry for bringing it up, but I can only assume there’s a reason behind that. “Sorry. Jared was just telling me that all of his friends have been sharing it around and watching—”

“We’ll deal with it,” Brooks snaps, reaching up to flick the brim of his hat out of the way. “Instead of meeting at the cafe for breakfast, come to our place. We’ll begin lessons then.”

“Cafe first and then back to your house for lessons, got it,” Georgia replies, and the two Southwoods stare one another down.

“Cafe, Brooks. It’s tradition.” I turn to him, and I clasp my hands together. I’m not really asking. I’m going whether he likes it or not, but I have a feeling he’s going to be soft on me. All three of them. I think I can cute-Kate my way into whatever I want right now.

Brooks closes all of his hat’s eyes and then sighs, looking down at me with a slight smile.

“I’ll cook for everyone, a nice big breakfast. Compromise with me.”

I turn back to Georgia, but all I can think about is what Tanner said to me, about a challenge. Me versus Brooks. Me versus him. Me versus Marlowe. It’s the most important game I’ve ever played.

“Meet at our place?” I ask with wide, innocent eyes. “He’ll make you whatever you want.”

“I’d like Bananas Foster Belgian waffles,” Georgia says, like she’s picking the most difficult breakfast item she knows.

“Carrot muffins for me.” Tacy raises her hand as she offers her suggestion. “Hold the semen.”

“Shakshuka,” Fernanda offers, and then laughs. What the fuck is shakshuka? I wonder, but Brooks is unfazed. “Sorry, is that too much?”

“Sweet potato hash with kale and eggs, over easy for me.” Talia nods her head as she steps close to join our circle of eight. Our collective shadows crawl across the walls and ceiling, vying for space. Darkening the otherwise bright room.

“Done.” Brooks snaps his fingers and the front door unlocks and then swings open. Our shadows rush out, getting stuck in a black diaphanous mass before wedging their dark bulk out into the sunshine, clawed limbs flailing.

He strides for the door like he expects the rest of his coven to follow.

We do.

“Is this really going to be a weekly meet-up?” Marlowe asks from my right side, tossing a little lip curl over his shoulder. Talia flips him off, and he returns the favor. I can tell he grew up with sisters.

“It is. Maybe we can sneak weekly meet-ups with your sisters and parents in there, too? Go for dinner with Miriam and Dennis once every other month.”

“I love how jealous you are. Keep telling me all about it.” Marlowe winks at me, walking quickly past me but laughing as he goes. I try to kick him, but I’m unsuccessful.

We head down the steps in the direction of our truck, and I pause, turning to look up at the beautiful house I painted. Gull feather white for the trim. Foggy bay blue for the siding. Sea-and-forest, this gorgeous navy on the entry gable. The beige parts are a shade called sandy bottom. And then there’s the green on the fine details, like the handrails, a green that’s locally made and titled Witchwood.

The last house I ever finished on my own, and it looks beautiful. I’m capable of great things, even by myself.

“I don’t know if I like the word neuter , personally,” Tanner says as he opens my door for me. He gives a low whistle to Flick, and the dog pauses, letting me climb into the truck first before he joins me. Okay, yeah, Tanner is doing a much better job training him than I did.

“Ask Flick: he knows all about neutering.” I shrug as Tanner slides into the back seat with me and the dog, Marlowe takes the wheel, and Brooks occupies the front passenger seat.

“Sweetheart, you like my balls more than I do. Neuter should scare the living hell out of you, too.” Tanner folds his hands together behind his head while I toss an arm around my dog’s shoulders and give him a hug.

He’s not wrong. I have no defense for that.

We stop at Fresh Freeze for burgers and fries, that slick silver and red diner that hasn’t changed since Brooks’ time, and then we take it home and relax.

The next day, we break the internet.