Page 16 of Who Owns You?

The day needs to get started anyway, and why not just dive into it with some clean clothes…well, clean-ish. As an artist whodoesn’t have time to change or find a smock, all the items of clothing I own get paint stains.

I fumble from the bed, feet not wanting to escape their tangle in the sheets, until I’m nearly face down on the carpet. I force myself to stand and groan, my back popping sharply.

“Fuck, that felt so good,” I moan, rubbing at my eyes, trying to wake myself up quickly by any means possible.

I grab my phone from the charger, shoot a quick “here and safe” to Mom and Dad, then send Kennedy a text with a picture of the view beyond my window. The loch and lush green banks, drops of rain rolling down the window. I manage to keep my naked body while giving her a peace sign in the old warped glass.

With the task of providing proof of life taken care of, I set about dressing. I groan as I clasp my bra and pull on a band tee with a few dried paint splatters from the first drawer. I barely fight the urge to toss on a pair of overalls and just decidefuck it. It’s the simplest way to feel and look mostly put together, and after all the fun of yesterday, I need something simple. I have several pairs of overalls, and each one has their own quirks. This is a favorite of mine, with patches made by some artist friends as a part of art trades.

I absentmindedly pick at some of the loose threads of a death’s-head moth on my thigh before I tug on my shoes. Shuffling around in my carry-on bag, I snag the shiny new black card Michael gave me before my trip. He said the balance was “yes,” and I’m more than ready to see what that means.

Sweat and drops of atmosphere cling to my brow as I push into the only shop in town that has a nonpractical purpose. Books,Bits, and Baubles is incredibly charming. The shop, painted bright blue with quaint brown shingles, is situated on what I’ve gathered is the main street of Colbéliard. There are two grocery stores, a butcher shop, some various farming goods stores, and a trinket shop that is as gray as the oncoming clouds, but Books, Bits, and Baubles is bright and fun.

The bell over the door announces my arrival with a sweet little chime. The smell of melting wax, amber, and apples stops me in my tracks. Something about the scent sits in my chest, warming me to my bones.

Eloise stands behind the counter, an apple in one hand and a knife in the other, which she waves in my direction.

“Come in now, Charlotte. No reason to be letting in the breeze.” She chides gently.

I step in, and the door snaps shut behind me, the open sign banging against the window sharply.

I grit my teeth and wince. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem. That door has been through far worse. How is your first day in town?” she asks with a grin, placing the apple on a little wooden plate and slicing it with the knife.

“Um, well, I got some groceries delivered to the castle so I can stock up on some things,” I say, feeling more than a little weird ordering so much considering I don’t know how long I’ll be staying.

I don’t want to go into town if I don’t have to, so buying the biggest bulk packs of rice, noodles, some beans, and flour was a good start. I could basically live on that, some fats and potatoes, until Michael has deemed I’ve fulfilled the terms of the inheritance. Then I can go back to New York. I want to buy a place to live where Kennedy and I can room together again, and then maybe a studio. A big “fuck off” space where I can throw paint at the walls if I want.

“Smart, the weather has been fairly”—she purses her lips, turning a discerning eye to the deep gray clouds in the sky—“shit for the most part since you’ve arrived, but really, all this greenery needs to be watered, and the Gods do that for us.”

“Gods?” I ask with a little squeak.

Sure, monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, mummies, fairies, oh my; so I guess multiple gods really are in the cards. Still, to have this mostly normal-appearing older woman going all polytheist on me out of nowhere shocks the hell out of me.

Eloise smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly, before she gestures to a chain hanging around her neck with the tip of her knife. A drop of apple juice rolls down the sharp edge of the blade. My eyes follow it to a set of three swirls in a triangle formation, each section made of a different precious metal.

“Pretty necklace,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

“It’s a triskele, not claimed solely by the Celtic pagans, but used a damn lot in our symbology.”

“Pagan, that’s cool, so you and your wife practice?”

“We do indeed, all the holidays and rituals too.” She chuckles softly at my wide-eyed expression. “She works at the butcher’s shop down the street. Brought the concept of the charcuterie boards to town.” The pride in her voice makes me blush.

The other woman isn’t even here, but I almost feel like I’m intruding. It reminds me of how the lust-struck guys that Kennedy had around spoke about her. Like she hung the moon and crafted each of the stars.

I bite my cheek to keep from asking any other dumb questions or making a stupid comment about howcoolshe is. That type of love feeds my desire to feel the same one day.

I let my eyes wander, taking in the cute, kitschy little shop. Books, Bits, and Baubles is an apt name for the space dominated by bookshelves labeled by genre, baskets filled with spools ofyarn in every color, and tables filled with trinkets that lack purpose but look cute.

“Have a browse around. Don’t let an old woman chat your ear off.” Eloise waves me farther into the shop.

“Thanks, this place looks like a lot of fun,” I say before cringing internally.

I’m not the best with my words. I’d much rather throw some colors on a canvas.

That’s what I need. Art supplies.

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