Page 73 of Cathmoir's Sons

It’s not how sweet and attentive Rhodes, Luca, and Law are all day. It’s not that they’re exactly the right amount of physically affectionate without crossing any line.

It’s certainly not that they take me to Albany and, after sight-seeing in a way that I’ve never made time for even though Albany’s only an hour away from Bevington, we arrive at a “magical paint experience.”

Sitting in a dark room at an easel, with a palette of softly-glowing paints and a black canvas, with the boys taking turns sitting behind me and “helping” me paint, I can’t stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks. They’re painless tears. Not the hard, bitter tears I’ve been crying for weeks or the sloppy, wrenching tears I cried for Carrie. They’re hormone tears: quiet but unstoppable.

Definitely hormone tears.

Rhodes wipes them away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Luca blots them with his fingertips before licking his fingersclean. Law dips a finger in the luminescent paint and traces the tear tracks down my face, then wipes off paint and saline with—no joke—a monogrammed handkerchief.

At the end of the hour experience, I’ve finally stopped crying. I feel hollow and light. The painting I’ve produced might not be a masterpiece, but I love it. It’s the Patroon Island Bridge and Hudson River, framed by fiery, autumnal trees. Maybe it’s a little abstract because my painting skills are rusty. Maybe I love it more because of the memories I associate with that location—lying in a tent with Law, holding hands and talking all night— than because it accurately depicts my memory. Whatever the reason, this painting is getting pride of place somewhere.

Luca carries the still-drying painting as though he’s carrying a trophy. Law slides his arm over my shoulders and spins an elaborate and totally fictional account of our night by the river, including serenades by merpeople and wrangling a kelpie. Rhodes holds my free hand and looks at me, his dimples appearing and disappearing as whatever he’s thinking brings out smile after smile.

“Come back to Cait House with us,” he says finally, squeezing my hand.

I wait for my brain to revolt. To throw up all my fears of censure by my peers. The loss of my career and academic reputation.

Nothing comes.

I’m not fearless. I’m still afraid of all those things. I still resent that they’ve put me in a position where Ihavethese fears. But the scales have tipped. Maybe it’s the knowledge that I have options. Maybe it’s the deep certainty that these men have my back no matter what decisions I make about my future.

Maybe it’s the realization that I don’t have to do it all on my own, that we’re building a Path we can walk together.

Maybe it’s all of those things, and that’s what makes me say, “Yes.”

Law squeezes my shoulders. Luca glances at me with shining eyes.

With them surrounding me, our magic winding tighter and tighter with every glance, every touch, I barely have to flick my claws to open the Fae Ways and step through to Cait House.

Cath, Allie, and Aine are in the library. Allie and Aine admire my masterpiece effusively. Law growls at his father until Cath pronounces it fit for the Great Hall. The boys claim it for their bedroom and Cath hides his relief that it won’t glow-up his reception hall by pouring drinks for everyone. While I sip sweet wine, I help Aine with her homework and argue good-naturedly with Luca who challenges each of my explanations.

I win by sticking my tongue out at him. Aine joins me.

There’s no awkward end to the night. When Cath and Allie excuse themselves, I kiss each of the boys good night and walk the Fae Ways back to Jane’s townhouse. A massive, black panther pads beside me, blinking to a handsome calico-and-cream tom cat when we cross the Veil.

Jane’s ensconced in front of the fire with Dean Quinn and several other Bevington professors. I join them for a nightcap. My purring kitty curls in my lap while we talk about our Winter Study courses. Jane’s red-eyed but relaxed. She smiles more often than she laughs at the jokes and anecdotes we trade, but she does smile.

When I rise to go to bed, she catches my hand. “I’m going to Harbin tomorrow.”

“Harbin?” I scratch around in my memory for what’s in Harbin. Or even where Harbin is.

“There’s an ice sculpture festival in Harbin, China. Derek and Melinda are going.” She tips her chin at two professors sitting on the couch across from her. “They invited me along. I’ll be backin time for my class on Thursday. I’ve left Carrie’s puzzle box in your room. If you need anything at all, call me. I’ll come straight home.”

That she didn’t invite me along doesn’t even sting in the face of the spark in her eyes.

I cup her cheek. “Jane, have a wonderful time.”

She smiles. “I’ll bring you a souvenir. If I can find one that doesn’t melt.”

Grinning, I say goodnight again and carry my purring armful to my room.

The winter moonlight streaming through the window captures my attention. After I clean up and change into a nightgown, I stand at the window, kissing Lawson’s soft head and looking out at the bright night.

“Today’s been a really good day,” I whisper to him. “Thank you for everything.”

His purring rattles my teeth.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. About choosing the easy hunt. That’s never been me, Law. I’ve never shied away from hard choices or hard work.” I press kisses between his ears. “Since coming back to Bevington, I’ve been running scared. No more. I’m going after Ulune’s Daughter. And I’m going after the Oak King. I don’t know what that will mean for teaching here or tenure. But everything you said about me belonging in the field was true. That is where I belong. I don’t know how it will work. What it will look like. But that’s what I want. As long as you three are beside me. Will you-will you help me get that, Law?”

---