“You smell like jasmine,” she says. “And something else. Herbs. Like… aftercare tea.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I took aftercare tea.”
“So you had sex?” Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock and excitement. “Was it Griffin? Did you fuck Griffin?”
I shake my head, then nod, then shake my head again. “No. No.”
“But you’re taking aftercare?”
Ah, shit! I have to tell her something. I can’t lie about this one thing. This is a safe thing to share. “Okay, so… I kind of went into heat.”
Amara’s jaw drops. “What? When? Why didn’t you call me?”
“It was… sudden,” I say, my cheeks burning. “I kind of handled it.”
She pulls me into a tight hug, her arms squeezing me hard. “Are you okay? Oh my stars, Caroline, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice muffled against her shoulder. “I took care of it, and then I took the tea to help.”
“Nasty.” Amara smirks, pulling back to look at me. “Did you go sex toy shopping without me?”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up, unexpected and real. “We’re not talking about it.”
“Fine,” she says, a wicked glint in her eye. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“No,” I say, a little too quickly. Because the truth is, I have no toys. No secrets to share. Just the memory of Damon’s hands, his body against mine.
She starts describing hers in vivid detail, and I clamp my hand over her mouth. “Amara! Stop!”
She laughs, pulling my hand away and then pulling me in for another hug. “Are you really okay?” she asks. She sounds concerned.
“I am,” I say, and I’m surprised to find that it’s mostly true. The tea helps, the lie helps, and for now, that’s enough.
“Are you?” I ask, pulling back to look at her.
She nods. “I am.”
“Good,” I say, turning to the cupboard. “I’ll make you some tea, and then you can rest and be okay.”
“Thanks,” she says.
As I measure out the herbs, I swallow the guilt that’s been sitting in my chest like a stone. I hate lying to her, especially about something like this. But how can I tell her the truth? How can I tell her that I spent the night with her cousin, her overprotective, Alpha sheriff cousin?
I just don’t know how.
The water boils, and I pour it over the herbs, the steam rising up, fragrant and familiar.
The bell above the door chimes as I push my way into Foxglove & Finch, and the scent that greets me is overwhelming. Lavender and sage, cinnamon and clove, something sharp and metallic that smells like ozone after a lightning strike. The apothecary is packed, bodies pressed close between shelves heavy with jars and bottles. Even Clive Harper is here, leaning against the counter with his usual too-familiar grin, a stack of boxes at his feet.
“Morning, Caroline,” he calls out, cutting through the chatter. “Missed you around here.”
I force a smile and prepare to lie. “Hey, Clive. I’m glad to be back.”
Behind the counter, a young woman with her hair twisted up in a messy bun looks up, her eyes wide with what looks like equal parts panic and relief. She’s got flour dusted across her nose and a streak of something purple on her cheek.
“Hey,” she says, wiping her hands on her apron. “You must be Caroline. I’m Tessa.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” I say, setting my bag down behind the counter. “Where are June and August?”
