Page 51 of Waltzing With Witches

I don’t know.

Grief batters me, bringing me back to that horrible night I found out my parents had died in a car wreck. I remember getting the call in the break room at the hospital after visiting a young patient admitted for pneumonia. I recall dropping the phone and sinking to the floor, Thea’s teary voice a blur on the other end of the line.

The days and weeks that followed were a blur too—so many visits and tear-filled phone calls. So much planning and organizing. And then there was the funeral. Every police officer and detective Dad worked with showed up to give us their condolences. Thea, Wren, Lou, and I stood in a line greeting people. And despite the fact that I’m only a few minutes older than my sisters, I feel like their older sister. Not to mention that being in charge of my parents’ estate meant that—

Strong fingers hold me pressed face down into his warm chest, bringing me back to the present. “Tell me what you need,” the Keeper whispers into my ear.

His wings beat a soft melody against the air, sending gusts of the chilly breeze to whip my hair side to side.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I was thinking about how this reminds me of when my folks died.”

Grief sinks deep, dragging my mind down into a dark place. The world around us spins, so I cling tighter to Abe’s turtleneck, pulling the fabric down to burrow directly against his skin.

He lets out a pleased-sounding hum and tightens his arms around me, so tight I can hardly breathe. But I like it, because it reminds me of the here and now.

We say nothing as he flaps effortlessly along the ward ceiling. I assume we’re headed for Shifter Hollow, but I almost don’t care. Flying in his arms is comforting in a way that nothing else has been for me for a long while.

Eventually, he swoops down and lands gently. When he sets me down, glance up into his gaze. Indecision wars with some other unnameable emotion in his eyes. I think he might kiss me again, but he pulls my hair tie out, and my locks tumble down around my ears.

One hand comes to my bangs and tucks them back out of my face. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

I choke up, my throat thickening. These are the words I’ve wanted to hear from him for a long time. And now I understand why he never said them, because an edge of sorrow underlies them, like each syllable might be the last thing he ever utters.

Maybe it will be.

“I need some time to think,” I admit. “I need more information, and I’d like to talk to Moira alone, if you don’t mind.”

He inclines his head. “Of course, Morgan. We’re here, see?”

When I look around, I let out a scream and grab on to his shirt. We’re standing on a two-foot-wide branch at the top of an impossibly tall tree.

“Holy shit!” I screech. “A little warning would have been nice!”

The Keeper grins. “I was lost in your eyes, Morgan. I meant to warn you, but I forgot it the moment you looked up at me.”

I grimace. “Now you’re a sweet talker?”

He shrugs. “I attempted to steer clear of you for both of our benefits, but now that you know every last one of my secrets, I lack the energy to hold you at arm’s length. On top of which, I can’t do it when you need to be carried places. And I can't do it with you living under the roof of the castle I designed for us.” He straightens, rolling his shoulders as if to work out a crook in his neck, his expression dour. “I can’t love you like you need to be loved, but I am at your command.”

“What does that mean for us?” I wrap my arms around my torso with a frown. And where do I even want to go from here, now that I have the full story?

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “Talk to Moira and Celset. We’ll talk more when you come home. I imagine you want to think about things.”

Why does that sound so perfect, so lovely?

“Okay,” I agree breathlessly. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Later.” His lips curl upward, fangs slipping out from his upper jaw. “I look forward to it, Morgan. Perhaps a game of bowling over drinks?”

I smile, but it’s half-hearted. I have no idea how to navigate this sudden opening of the floodgates. It’s like I’m seeing who Abe is for the first time. “Are you asking me on a date?”

His smile falls. “I’m asking for whatever you want to give. It could be nothing. It could be friendship. And that’s your prerogative. I’ve made the decisions by myself for too long. You’re in control, Morgan.” His eyes narrow, nostrils flaring as he leans closer to hover his lips above mine. “Although you’ve always been in control of me, always guided my decisions, always filled my thoughts. I relish the chance to give control fully up to you.”

“Sounds hot,” I rely on my usual snark, beaming up at him. “I love being in charge.” I don’t feel snarky though; it’s how I deal with shit. And I am up to my elbows in shitty news right now.

“So I’ve noticed.” He spreads his shadowy wings wide enough that they blot out the sun. “Celset’s cottage is tucked into the trees above us. There’s a ladder. I’ll stay to make sure you don’t fall. Comm me later, or have Celset return you to the castle, if you like.”

He falls silent, and I take a moment to look him over. His lips are pursed together in a barely hidden smile, both thumbs slung through the loops in his slacks that hug his long muscular thighs. The fabric of his shirt clings to his biceps and chest. Like always, he wears a turtleneck that covers the beautiful tattoos on his neck. I’ve never seen them, but he showed Thea once. She told me they were “having a moment.”

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