Page 15 of The Witch's Cottage
My shoulders sag. What was supposed to be a perfect sourdough loaf is charred black on the top.
“Sorry.”
Alden’s voice brings me out of my gloom. When I turn, I find him hesitating in the doorway leading to the foyer.
“I should get back to work.” He clears his throat, not meeting my eyes. “Thanks for this.” He holds his bandaged hand up, then turns and walks down the hall, acting as if nothing just happened between us.
My mouth opens in surprise, but I don’t know what to say.
I’m not sure I’lleverunderstand men, least of all that one.
Chapter 9
Alden
AURORA SILVERMOON IS STUCK IN my head like a terrible song, except her song is beautiful, soft, and perfectly in tune—like that day I heard her singing in the garden. I want so badly to hear how the song ends, to listen as she sings it while planting flowers in the garden or kneading bread in her tiny sunlit kitchen.
Not for the first time in recent days, I realize what a fool I am. She touched me,kissedme. And then I ran like a coward. My thumb still hurts where I struck it with that nail, but it doesn’t hurt near so bad as my pride.
I didn’t used to be so scared, so hesitant. When I was young, I knew what I wanted, and I went after it. But not anymore. Now I’m afraid of what might be coming, afraid that if I feel something good, I’ll inevitably hurt later. And that’s why I didn’t pull Aurora into my arms and lift her onto that damned wobbly table of hers. That’s why I avoided her as best I could while I finished replacing the rotted framing in her cottage.
It’s been a few days since then, but I’m feeling more foolish with every day that passes. She came into the mercantile while I was there two days ago, but I ducked out before she could see me. Lydia won’teverlet me live that one down. Guess she’s just another woman I’ll have to hide from until this blows over.
A knock on the door has me looking up from my whittling project. Eyes narrowing, I set the half-finished horse on my kitchen table and head into the narrow hallway. When I pull the door open, I have to cast my sightdownto focus on the green-haired witch standing on my porch.
My heart thuds so hard when her eyes meet mine that I’m sure she hears it.
“Hi.” Her smile is beaming, so bright it damn near sets me aflame. The freckles on her nose crinkle into new shapes, like a roadmap to someplace foreign and magical. “Can I come in?” She glances around me into my home, and my first instinct is to step onto the porch and close the door firmly behind me.
People don’t come into my home. Ever. It’s my refuge, my quiet oasis.
But before I can close the door, Aurora slips right under my outstretched arm, the scent of lavender enveloping me as she moves through the doorframe and into the house. A grumble rises in my chest as I turn to face her.
She’s drifting through the dimly lit space, hands clasped behind her back, wide eyes taking in everything she can see, from the onion braid hanging in my cramped kitchen to the charcoal sketches of birds and animals I’ve tacked to the walls. It’s like she’s a kid at the Beltane bonfire for the firsttime, eyes alight with wonder. And even though I feel a bit of an itch to ask her to leave, I know I can’t do it. Because my heart is still racing, even as I cross my arms over my chest and lurk in the darkened entryway.
“It feels...” Aurora turns slowly to face me, the light in her eyes going dull. Her pink lips pull down into a gentle frown. “It feels sad in here.”
Her words make my chest tighten up.
How could she ever know that?
“Are you sad?” The question would sound ridiculous coming from anyone else, but when spoken from her lips, it feels like the truest thing in the world.
And yet I lie.
“No.”
She furrows her brow, then reaches up to tuck a long strand of green hair behind her ear.
“Why is your hair green?” I ask. The question slips out before I can stop it. I’ve wondered since that first day I met her, but I always held my curiosity at bay.
It seems to lighten the mood. The concern on her face flits away, and her eyes crinkle again as she smiles.
“It’s a witch thing. Our hair color reflects our affinity. I’ve always been drawn to the earth and the things that grow from it, hence the green.”
Her gaze shifts to a sad plant sitting in my kitchen window. On a whim, I harvested it from the forest last year, hoping to bring some color into this dismally brown space, but it hasn’t done well since.
Aurora drifts into the kitchen, and I follow after her. For some reason, watching her move through my home makesme feel like I’m discovering it for the first time as well, like her eyes cast a type of magic over it that’s become invisible to me. She picks up the pot I put the plant in, then turns it this way and that. Her teeth slip out to bite her bottom lip, a hint of white again soft pink, and I wish I could do the same thing. She tasted so sweet when we kissed, like licorice and marshmallow.
