Page 41 of Can't Help Falling

For some reason, that made Kylie laugh. “How would you describe what you do?”

“I describe it differently to different people,” Fin said with a shrug. “But to you... I guess I’d say that I work with people’s energy. I can read them well. Sometimes it helps me see problem areas in their life that they’re blind to.”

“Can you see the future?”

Comfortable with the subject and thrilled with the interest she saw in Kylie’s freckled features, Fin tried to explain. “Not the way you’re probably imagining. More than anything I see patterns. Sometimes the paths that people take are obvious. You can often tell where someone is going based on where they’ve been.”

Kylie’s brow furrowed down hard as she stared at her own crisscrossed legs. “I’ve noticed that about people too.”

Fin knew, without a doubt, that Kylie was thinking of her mother. She felt the cold, sharp ache of the girl’s pain. Even from all the way across the room.

Fin pulled the crystals out of her pocket. There were five of them, all of them smaller than a dime. They’d traveled in her pocket for years. Each one was a different kind of crystal. One pink, one silverish, one clear with internal fingers of gold, one green and one dead black. Every day she transferred them to whatever she was going to wear that day. They were warm from her body and felt as much a part of her as her fingernails did.

“If you pick one of these, I’ll make you a necklace or bracelet from its type of crystal.”

There were many crystal and rock shops in New York City, one of the things that Fin loved about the city, and her personal supply of gems and crystals was hearty. Kylie, seeming to understand inherently that she was supposed to look at the gems in Fin’s hand and not touch them, folded her hands under her chin and leaned over to get a better look.

“I like that one.”

Fin kept her reaction smooth. She knew well enough it was no coincidence that the crystal Kylie had been drawn to was the silvery hematite. It was a crystal associated with defense. Justice. And, most hopefully, healing.

“Necklace or bracelet?”

Kylie looked up, her dark eyes slightly uncomfortable as she pushed back the shock of red hair that had fallen in her face. “Is one more expensive than the other?”

“Normally they’re priced differently. But this is my gift to you. A welcome-to-Brooklyn gift.”

Kylie looked like she wanted to argue but after a second, she snapped her mouth closed. “Necklace then. Please.”

“I’ll bring it by in a few days.”

Fin slipped her crystals back in her pocket and stretched. “I should head back home.”

“Fin?”

“Yeah?”

“Never mind,” Kylie said after a beat. “Goodnight.”

Fin paused. “See you soon.”

Fin ducked her head into the kitchen, saw it was empty and clean and headed to the living room. There, stretched out on the couch, his eyes closed, was Tyler.

She wanted to creep past quickly, but something made her pause. Her eyes snagged on him. She’d never seen him in repose before. Most people curled up when they were resting. A bent leg or arms folded under their heads. But Tyler laid on his back, his legs crossed at the ankle and perfectly straight. His hands were folded over his stomach. Fin could perfectly picture him napping like that under a weeping willow, a book folded over his face to keep the sunshine off his eyelids. How had she never noticed just how long he was?

Maybe because she’d usually seen him compared to Sebastian. Who was maybe an inch taller than Tyler and much wider, more barrel-chested. Tyler wasn’t skinny, but he was a bit lanky. He had wide shoulders and narrow hips and stem to stern, he did not fit on that couch. His head was crooked up on the arm in what looked like a very uncomfortable position.

She could feel the calmness of his rest. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was nearing it. Not wanting to wake him, for myriad reasons, she slipped quietly into her shoes and coat and crept out.

For the second time in as many days, Fin opted for the long walk home. It was 8:45 on a cold December night and anywhere else in the world, the sky would have been as black as a chalkboard. In Brooklyn, though, with the clouds in a thick sheet overtop and the city lights reflecting down on her, Fin had a kind of orangish night-light to walk her home. She wove down some of the more residential blocks instead of walking up Flatbush, which was busy with traffic and smoggy with exhaust. It took her an hour to get from Tyler’s building in Midwood to her place on Ocean Avenue.

She took the elevator up and breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into her own space. It smelled like sage and mint with just a touch of lavender.

Happy to be home, she went right into her bedroom and took off all her jewelry. She didn’t need her talismans when she was in her own home.

And then, even though it was getting close to bedtime, she headed into her kitchen to see about her makeshift herb garden. The scents of fresh herbs inundated her, and Serafine breathed deeply, an irascible joy rising within her.

She took down the tarragon she’d put up to dry a few days before and carefully bottled it into two small glass jars. One of them she’d take to Via for cooking, and one of them she’d keep for herself. Tarragon was a useful herb in many of the kitchen spells that Fin was learning how to work. She wasn’t much of a cook, but as she’d been proving for most of her life, there was plenty more a person could use a kitchen for than just cooking.

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