Page 17 of Whispers of Wisteria
“Oh…” He exhaled and hugged me back. “Of course.”
His voice hitched, and I pulled back, holding him at arm’s length. “Or did you do it because you have to?”
“No,” Brayden replied, face pink. “We help you because we want to.”
That was reassuring, at least a little.
“What about Mr. Weaver?”
“You should call him Uncle Caleb.” Brayden sighed. “Same thing with Uncle Gregory. I think it’d make them happy.”
I’d thought about it… Really, I had. It felt weird to be so formal, especially since I’ve been working with Dr. Stephens and Damen lately.
I pushed back and looked away. “But… He has a doctorate.” The excuse felt flimsy, even to me. “He’s worked hard to earn that and—”
“Then you’ll need to start calling Uncle Caleb ‘doctor’ too.” Brayden didn’t sound fooled at all. “He has a Doctorate of History.”
“But…” I said again. “Everyone calls him ‘mister’…”
Brayden shrugged. “That’s because he doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s extremely laid back once you get to know him. He was the popular one.”
I couldn’t imagine such a thing. Even as a spirit, he was one angry rant away from a heart attack.
“He was the first of us to attend a non-fae university,” Brayden continued. “It inspired Uncle Gregory to branch out, too. But Uncle Caleb moved to the human realm because he was looking for something.”
There were fae universities?
Still, on the topic at hand.
Hidden libraries.
“Do you think that if we called him here—”
“Don’t!” Brayden said sharply and held up his hand. “He might like you, but not that much.”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“Oh, he does,” Brayden was quick to reassure me. “But he’s probably not going to talk to you about it yet.”
What in the world was he talking about—Mr. Weaver didn’t like me at all. Especially as I’d accidentally trapped him in a room with Ms. Protean, and…
I hadn’t dared to face him. It was at my insistence—after I sheepishly admitted to Bryce what I’d done, and he’d laughed at me—that my oldest brother went and freed the ghost. I hadn’t heard anything from the spirit since.
Still, he might be magically compelled to be nice if I asked him a direct question.
“He’s an Officer.” I twisted my fingers into my skirt. “Shouldn’t he have to answer me because I said so?”
“I wish.” Brayden laughed. “That’d make things so much easier.”
Heat rose to my face, and he stopped laughing.
“I’m sorry.” He pushed his curls back from his face. “I didn’t realize…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, but I didn’t know you actually believed wehadto listen to you.”
My skin burned, and I looked at the books he’d brought for me. I needed this education more than I’d thought.
“We don’thaveto obey your orders.” Brayden swiped a tear from his eye. “Where in the world would you get that idea?”
But Damen had said—
