“What are you going to do with Rowan?” Ryder asks.
“Do with him?”
“He’s not an owl anymore. You can’t tuck him in a cage and keep him in your cottage.”
I roll my eyes. “He never had a cage.”
“You know what I mean.”
“He can sleep in the spare bedroom tonight. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”
Ryder starts for the door, winking roguishly before he goes. “If you need any help, you let me know, okay?”
“Thank you, Ryder.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
The elf lets himself out, and I wander into the kitchen, needing to do something that feels normal. And normal feels like tea.
But my eyes stray to the empty perch, and something cold settles in my stomach. I end up sitting at the table, feeling lost, unable to put my feelings into words.
Twenty minutes later, I hear footsteps.
Rowan walks into the room, dressed in jeans and a dusky blue, lightweight knit, long-sleeve shirt that Ansel gave him. Chester follows, my dog heeling like he’s found a new best friend.
My eyes drift over the man. And heisa man, not the boy from the picture.
Rowan’s shoulders have broadened, and his hair has mellowed to a deep cocoa shade. His jaw is more defined than it was in his youth. He has striking eyes, such an unusual gray, but they hold seven painful, lonely years in them.
The boy is gone, and so is the owl, leaving a stranger I don’t know.
When our gazes meet, I look away, nervous. “I was going to make tea, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. What would you like?”
“I can make it,” he says, his voice so familiar.
“Right.”
Needing to do something, I leave the table and busy myself by rearranging the utensils in the stand by the stove.
Rowan steps up beside me. “Kit.”
Refusing to look at him, I say, “Hmm?”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m a little freaked out.”
He chuckles at my honesty. The amulet didn’t do his voice justice. It’s a deep, rumbly sound, scratchy from years of disuse, and it tugs at my aching heart.
Nudging my arm, he says, “It’s because I’m hot, isn’t it?”
He sounds so much like himself, it hurts.
And though I laugh…I feel like I’m going to cryagain. I finally turn to look at him. And then I lookup, because he’s tall. “Can I admit something weird?”
He nods, his expression warm and curious.
