Page 77 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)
I rooted around for a spare toothbrush and got to scrubbing as I dumped what I guessed was a tablespoon of Lilac’s tea into the cup beside the sink.
Because I might be a timid witch at the moment, but I was still the Queen of Plans B, C, and D.
While I brushed, I went on another search for a disposable razor.
Teeth cleaned and razor found, I left the tea to steep as I stepped into the ferocious spray of the shower.
It was almost abusive. Though, I supposed if you were a bear half the time and a lumberjack/carpenter the other half, the kind of caked-on grime you accumulated over the day deserved a pressure washer’s attention.
It was a relief to get clean. A weight lifted from me as the water ran from brown to clear.
Arthur’s shampoo smelled of evergreen and musk, but the bar soap…
There were two kinds in the shower, one just a weathered lump on a wooden dish and another set high out of the spray that looked fresh-cut out of the box.
Daphne’s goat milk soap, one in pine, and the other…
Lifting on tiptoe, I smelled wildflowers. It was her Springtime Frolic scent—honeysuckle and lilac. Subtle and gentle on the nose. It was my scent. It was the soap I’d used before I’d picked up that pine bar when Arthur and I had had our falling out.
The smile that cracked my face spread so wide I thought my head would unhinge from my neck. I selected that soap and gave myself a thorough scrubbing until my skin begged no more .
Though I had true understanding of my air element now, I did not deprive myself the pleasure of wrapping up in one of Arthur’s towels. I used my magic on my hair only, the water droplets lifting and swirling into a funnel down the drain as I sipped Lilac’s tea.
“Done in the bathroom,” I called at the door at the end of the room, using the one opposite the toilet to slip into the bedroom.
Moonlight shone through the partially drawn curtains, slanted across a king-size bed.
It was made up tall and heavy with blankets and a barn star quilt of forest green, maroon, brown, and ivory.
Nightstand, dresser, mirror, closet—I placed Shari’s crocheted bat on the nightstand and selected a plaid shirt from the closet.
The flannel whispered across my skin, instantly warming me.
Climbing into bed, I kept to the far half and snuggled deep under the blankets.
I groaned as I sank into the mattress. Cloud soft. A hug for my whole battered body.
I could sleep for an age.
My eyelids were just beginning to droop as the water ran once again in the adjoining bathroom.
The buzz of an electric razor. The click-sniiiip of scissors through matted hair.
The rhythmic sounds dragged me towards sleep and almost succeeded too.
The squeak of the faucet shutting off had the same effect as an overenthusiastic alarm clock.
I was awake , blood thundering, body quivering. Any second that door was going to open and the doorway’s gloom would fill with broad shoulders and smoldering hazel eyes and thighs as thick as tree trunks. A nervous sweat gushed from my palms.
“Get a grip, get a grip,” I hissed.
There a click, but it wasn’t from the adjoining door. Arthur’s footfalls sounded in the living room, heading for the front door. There was a rustling, a stomping of boots, the swing of hinges. Then, the rhythmic splitting of wood.
I couldn’t recall if the firewood stacked by the hearth would’ve sustained us overnight, and who knew when the town’s power would come online again.
He’ll be back. And then… And then ? —
There was a creak at the bedroom door, and a striped face pushed its way into the gap. Amber eyes glowed. “It’s said a cat’s purrs have a calming effect,” Sawyer said.
Thistle slunk into the bedroom after him, shutting the door with a backwards kick.
She hopped up onto the high bed as fluidly as ink.
My tabby tomcat walked onto my chest and gave me an aggressive snuggle under my chin.
Calmness radiated down our bond as he loafed and purred.
Thistle wiggled into the crook of my arm, belly up, and fell immediately asleep.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sawyer asked, eyes half-lidded.
“And infect you with my neuroses? No thank you.”
The tabby tomcat extended a paw, toes curling around my chin.
“If I can feel everything you feel as your familiar, imagine how much more he can feel as your mate. You claimed him in the woods. I felt it, and he as sure as a cat has nine lives felt it. Can you imagine what’s he’s feeling from you now? Rejection?—”
I hinged upright in the bed, anger flaring. Thistle yowled, jolted awake. “I would never ? — ”
Sawyer, who’d spilled into my lap, reached up and swatted my cheek. “Then why are you in here and he’s out there?”
“Ugh”—my head dropped down to my drawn-up knees, my words muffling against the quilt—“it’s what Otter said. And Boar, and Rose, and Lilac, and Cody, and—thistle thorns—even myself.”
“There’s no rulebook, Meadow. And no one else matters. There’s no one here but you and him.” Sawyer pawed Thistle’s shoulder. She’d already curled up into a circular void and now opened one green eye to glare at being rudely woken for the second time. “C’mon.”
“No, you stay here.” I kicked the covers off and pitched myself over the side of the bed. A thick braided rug cushioned my feet. With a huff, I straightened out my nightshirt. “I can’t believe I’m taking relationship advice from a cat, but you’re right.”
“Of course I am. I’m a cat.”
Squaring my shoulders, I marched across the bedroom and flung open the door.