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“Is this person going to welcome us, Fern? Who is it?”
“He’s an old man from my village.”
“A fae?” I asked.
She nodded. “He kept the fae away from me for a long time until he was forced out because of his inability to use his magic. He uses herbs and natural substances to heal. The fae didn’t like it.”
Josephine glanced over at me, but I didn’t look down. Her thoughts had rambled the entire three hours from fear, lust and something about a boy back home.
It wasn’t the thought of him that ran my blood hot but the fact that I hated that she had someone.
It made no sense.
None of this did.
The cabin’s door open, and an elderly man walked out onto the porch. I could see the points of his ears behind his long white hair. He cupped his hand over his eyes and smiled brightly. “Fern?” he hollered over the distance.
“Mr. Ernest!” she yelled, sliding down the hill like a small child.
Josephine glanced over her shoulder. “Coming, Anti-hero? I’m sure you’re ready to get me back into my body.” She chuckled as she took a step. “Though, I hate to break it to you, I’m going to be just as fun as I am now.”
Chapter Eighteen
Josie
The cabin looked pulled from a storybook. The greenery surrounding it was lush, full of flowers and had an inviting aura that excited me.
Fern seemed to know the man she ran toward personally.
He pulled her in for a hug. His gaze moved to mine and then to Kellan. I was sure that Kellan’s resting anti-hero face would deter him from smiling, but it didn’t.
“Fern,” he said. “Who did you bring with you today, love? I’m so happy to see you and that you’re okay.”
Fern turned and proudly gestured toward me. “This is Josephine,” she said then turned toward Kellan. “That’s Kellan, and this is also Josephine.”
He blinked while looking back and forth between my body and myself. “Well, that is ... interesting. I’m Ernest. You all come on inside. You look hungry and tired.”
He opened the door to his home, and the smell of food wafted outward. My stomach greedily grumbled at the smell. I didn’t know what that was, nor did I care. I would eat anything at that moment.
Ernest’s modest home was welcoming and comfortable. His living room looked hardly touched, but his kitchen looked lived in. There were all sorts of containers, molcajetes that I learned about in history class and plants galore.
I loved the look of plants, but I could never keep them alive.
Ernest began to pick up his dining room table. At first, I thought it was for a place to eat, then Kellan placed my sleeping body down on it.
Kellan pulled my hair out from under my shoulders and let it hang. The giddy feeling I had when he touched the real me was pathetic. I longed to be back in there, but maybe his reluctance toward the spirit me was because he was attracted to the way I looked but not necessarily me.
“How long has she been this way?” Ernest asked.
“I’m not totally sure,” he answered, running his thick fingers into his hair. “She’s been with me a little over two days.”
“I dreamed of you for two days before,” I said.
Those dark eyes turned toward me. I pretended the simple look hadn’t flamed my skin with fire. Like they did every time.
“So, four or so days?” Ernest asked, pressing his fingertips against my skin.
“It’s my best guest,” I said.
