Page 54 of Wolves & Watercolors
“No, that’s not necessary,” I argue.
His vivid green eyes narrow and I stiffen. “It’s not a problem, and it’s best if you don’t go back home and have to work triple shifts to get caught up. The stress won’t help your situation.”
“Okay.” I can’t help but agree when he turns that intense scrutiny on me.
Hazel looks up from her baby and smiles at me, a little sadly. When she looks back down, her chocolate hair falls like a wavy curtain over her face.
“We should go,” Cedar says, his hand going to my thigh, just above the knee.
“But it’s your house,” I say, my brows furrowing.
“You guys are fine, you can stay and hang out or go,” Hazel says without looking up. “We’ll be out of here as soon as Timber is done with second breakfast.”
As much as I’d like to stay and watch baby Timber, the weight of new magic presses down on my shoulders. It’s been a day, and it’s only early afternoon. With that thought, my stomach lets out a growl.
“Let’s go get some lunch,” Cedar says, crossing to the door. He holds it open for me, and I move forward automatically. The way his hand goes to the small of my back feels natural, but I don’t doubt that Hazel and Slate noticed. Hopefully she isn’t too unhappy with me.
Cedar’s arm wraps around my waist, keeping me close as we head toward the diner.
“I’m okay,” I say. “Really.”
“I know.” He leans closer, speaking quietly. “I’m not under any delusion that you need me. You’re very capable. Maybe I just want to be near you.”
His words shiver across my skin, drawing me closer. It would be too easy to forget my magical problems and get lost inhim. For just a moment, I lean into his warmth and let all my worries fade.
IX . Cinnamon Rolls
& Control
Cedar
Aurora’s first day attempting to use plant magic on command results in exactly zero progress. She gets more irritable as time drags on and she stares at the garden beds and curses under her breath. Eventually, she calls it a day and goes home.
It bothers me that I can’t do anything to help. Once she leaves the garden, I head to Sable’s cottage and rap my knuckles on the door.
The silver-haired healer yells, “Come in.”
Pushing the door open, I duck my head to step into the small work room. Bottles line one wall on imperfect handmade shelves. Bouquets of dried plants cover the ceiling, many of which I placed there for her.
“Cedar, is everything okay?” Sable says, her small figure framed in the stone arch that leads to the living space of her home.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“So what brings you over to visit me today?” Without waiting for an answer, she disappears. Looking around awkwardly, I decide to perch on a spare stool. When Sable reappears, she hands me a mug of tea.
“What did you put in here?” I ask.
“Nothing you should worry about,” she says with a wry smile.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in the steam wafting off my mug. A lemon scent hits me first. Tentatively, I take a sip. When I look up, Sable is watching me expectantly. It takes two more sips to identify the flavors. “Lemon balm, lavender, and is that passionflower?”
“Very good.” She takes a long drink of her own tea.
“Do you think I look anxious?” I ask, feeling curious.
She clears her throat. “Most males would be in your position.”
“Excuse me?”
