Page 63 of De-Witched

“We’ll talk on the way.” He’d decided that would be best. They’d be limited in how much they could say, and their conversation could only last for the duration of the journey.

“Um...okay.” She peered at him, unusually flustered. Her hand smoothed her sweater. “Are you sure you want to travel across town?”

He merely held out the coat he’d retrieved.

With a small shrug, she slipped her arms into the dark green coat. His hands lingered for a moment on her shoulders as he drew in her scent. Not noticing, Leah waved to the volunteers and then walked with him into the night. “I usually get the L.”

His nose wrinkled. “I don’t think so.”

She tipped her chin up, a spark of laughter he’d sorely missed lighting her expression. “Don’t you get tired of being snobby?”

“When one has a natural talent, it should always be employed.”

“Uh-huh. C’mon, Gabe. This’ll be a good experience for you.”

“Leah, I’m not riding in a tin can of strangers. Leah. Leah.” With a mutter, he hurried after her. Night had fallen and although the streets were relatively bustling, he didn’t trust anyone not to assault her.

Her idea of thanking him for the assistance was making him stand upright in a train car, merrily insisting he hold the pole so he wouldn’t go flying and, when he resisted, laughing her head off when he kept smashing into the side. More than his ego was bruised as they exited into a neighborhood nicer than he’d expected.

Small houses lined the street, with yards, rather than the towering apartment blocks he was used to. There were leafy trees, unfurling with the beginnings of green leaves, grass and iron curlicued gates. Someone in their front yard waved to Leah and she waved back without slowing down.

He knew she wanted to talk about the other night, dissect, explore, but as he paced his steps to hers, he shied away from the topic. “You walk alone this way every day?”

“Sometimes.” She buried her hands in her pockets. “Sometimes I Uber. Depends on if I’m in the mood to stretch my legs.”

“How safe is the neighborhood?”

She flicked a grin at him. “Safe enough. I know how to take care of myself.”

He grunted, Laurence’s face flashing to mind. Still... “You don’t own a car?”

“Had one for a while, but it’s pointless when I travel into the center so much.” Her sneakers padded over the sidewalk and she let out a breath that curled white into the air. “God, how can it be this cold still?”

Gabriel didn’t think; he warmed the air around her with a flick of his fingers and then bit down on the lick of pain. Fuck.

She noticed his grunt, stopped. “Gabriel?”

He motioned her on, setting his teeth against the small ripples that continued to ebb in his system. “It’s fine.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You know I’m as stubborn as you, right?”

“I believe that’s why we rode in the tin can of death.”

Her smile didn’t fully light her eyes. “You’d tell me if you were really in pain.”

It was a statement, but he answered her anyway. “Likely not.”

“Of course.” Now her smile was rueful. “Goodnights don’t show weakness?”

“Best way to be.”

She made a noncommittal noise and indicated to cross the road. “One day you’ll open up to someone.”

“Have you?” He watched for traffic as she walked ahead.

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