Page 19 of Grump Hard
Willow’s violet eyes seem to glow in her almost irritatingly serene face as she nods. “Of course he is. He always knows where he’s safe. And where he’s needed most. He’s very wise.”
“He was very afraid,” I counter as the chipmunk continues to tremble in my pocket. “He’s still afraid.”
“Fear and wisdom are friends, not enemies,” Willow says, nodding toward my still-raised hands. “It’s all right. You can comfort him. He won’t bite.”
I don’t want to comfort him.
I want this woo-woo woman to collect her frightened animal and do the comforting herself. But it’s my pocket, and I don’t really want a stranger reaching in there, either.
Exhaling a long breath, I lower my arms. Then, moving slowly, carefully, I reach into my pocket, my fingers brushing against the tiny, trembling body. The chipmunk emits a terrified noise that makes my chest ache.
Goddammit.
“It’s all right,” I murmur to my pocket, stroking him gently. “You’re okay.”
Holly hums in agreement. “You sure are, Cheeks. You’re okay. Luke will keep you safe.”
“No bad dogs allowed over here,” I add, pulling my hand from my pocket and cupping it in silent invitation. “We don’t take appointments with bad dogs.”
“And we’re done for the night,” Holly coos. “So, come on out, buddy. There! There you are.”
The tiny chipmunk emerges from my coat, crawling into my hand before turning to gaze up at me with shining black eyes.
The trust in them is…staggering.
I’m humbled by it, even before he curls into a ball, using the heel of my palm as his pillow, seeming content to stay right where he is. Seeming to trust that I’ll keep him safe.
“See? A celestial match made in the heavens.” Willow presses her hands together and bows her head. “Bring him home when your work together is done. Holly knows where I live.” Before I can reply, she’s gone, merging back into the flow of the festival, leaving me with her pet.
I shake my head, outrage and a strange sense of peace warring inside me. “What the hell just happened?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Holly says, a soft smile on her face as she adds, “You found your magic.”
I want to insist again that she’s wrong.
That I’m not the kind of person who has “magic.” That I’m nothing like her. I’m practically a different species, for God’s sake.
But with this tiny furry thing curled up in my palm…
I suddenly don’t…
Well, I don’t know if that’s the absolute truth, and I’m not a liar. I have many faults, but that isn’t one of them.
So, I simply grunt. Sigh. Then roll my eyes as I ask, “So I’m just supposed to…babysit it? Until it’s ready to leave?”
She nods. “Yep.”
“Does it eat nuts?”
“It sure does,” she says, sounding almost…proud. “And he likes strawberries, too, if you have any of those.”
I nod. “We do. We have both.”
“Great, then sounds like you’re all set.” She loops her arm through my free one, tugging me out of the shelter. “Come on, it’s almost time for the tree-lighting ceremony. We can pack up after.” She tips her head back, smiling up at the stars. “Right now, I just want to get some cocoa and enjoy the smell of snow in the air.”
So…we do.
And strangely, the moment when the mayor flicks the switch—lighting up the rest of the lights on the tree—is more pleasant than expected. Even the spotlight illuminating the peg leg, proudly perched on top like a treasure, not an eyesore, can’t ruin the moment.
