Page 7 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
“Hello?”
Tiny footsteps. Then a small, earnest voice:
“Evie?”
I blink. Jamie Moore peers around the attic doorframe, curls tousled, oversized t-shirt half-swallowed by his knees. He’s clutching a well-loved plush shark to his chest.
“Hey, kid,” I say hoarsely. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”
“Mama said you might need help. And Old Man Cass says attics are where all the best secrets live.” He pads inside like he owns the place, eyes wide. “Is it true?”
I manage a crooked smile. “Depends what you mean by ‘best.’”
He squats beside me, peering at the book in my lap. “What’s that?”
“The Odyssey.”
“Is it about monsters?”
“In a way.”
Jamie lights up. “Cool. Are there sad love stories? I like those too.”
The air catches in my throat. I look at the photo again, then tuck it back inside the book and close it carefully.
“Yeah, kid,” I say quietly. “Yeah, there are.”
He watches me with those big sea-glass eyes, sharp as his mother’s.
“You look stormy in the face but sunny in the heart,” he declares solemnly.
I choke out a laugh despite myself. “That right?”
He nods. “Mama says sometimes people don’t know they’re allowed to stay happy. They think they gotta be sad forever.”
Damn. Out of the mouths of babes.
Before I can answer, there’s a shout from downstairs.
“Jamie! What did I say about sneaking off?”
Rowan’s voice—half exasperated, half fond.
Jamie grins. “Gotta go.”
He scrambles up and makes for the stairs. At the top, he pauses and looks back.
“You should come to the festival more. There’s nice monsters there.”
Then he’s gone, bare feet thudding lightly down the steps.
I stare after him for a beat longer than I should.
Nice monsters, huh?
By the time I drag myself downstairs, Rowan’s leaning against the kitchen counter with two mugs of coffee already waiting.
“You are the devil,” I tell her.
