Page 88 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

I kept my gaze out the window the entire drive. Soft folk music played in the background, the radio turned low. It was…perfect. Autumn was my favorite season and this was the place to spend it. In fact, I didn’t really want to spend it anywhere else ever again.

The trees were too stunning. It made my heart full and warm. The promise of crisp air, Halloween approaching, and then the holidays. The reprieve after a sweltering summer.

It was just…the best season.

The cabin came into view as the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. Smoke curled from the chimney. The porch lights were already on, illuminating the pumpkins and hay bales, the twinkling string lights and lanterns he’d put up for me.

When I stepped inside, I stopped dead.

The dining table—which we rarely used, preferring the island—was set with beautiful place settings. Cloth napkins. Wine glasses. Candles flickering in the center, casting warm shadows across the room. The bunnies were in their enclosure, already fed from the looks of their empty pellet bowls, contentedly munching hay.

“Axel...”

“It’s nothing fancy.” He moved toward the kitchen, his back to me. “Just thought we could use a proper meal. Together.”

My throat went tight. “What’s the occasion?”

I was fishing. Hoping he’d says something like, I changed my mind. Or, let’s make this thing more permanent between us.

He paused, one hand on the refrigerator door. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Do I need an occasion to feed my—“ He stopped. Swallowed. “To feed you?”

My hopes fell, but I decided not to push. Not yet.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Already done. Just need to plate it. Go wash up. Relax.”

I did as he suggested, taking a few minutes in the bathroom to splash water on my face, to study my reflection. I looked tired. But also...hopeful? The woman staring back at me had color in her cheeks that hadn’t been there a month ago. Had a light in her eyes that had nothing to do with magic. This next weekend could be it—the weekend we ventured deep enough into the cave to get the knife. To break the curse. Then I would show Axel I wasn’t going anywhere.

When I emerged, he was setting plates on the table. Beef stroganoff. My signature dish—the one I’d bragged about making.

“You made one of my favorites?”

“Asked you what your specialty was. You said stroganoff.” He pulled out my chair, waiting. “Wanted to see if I could do it justice.”

I sank into the seat, staring at the plate. Rich, creamy sauce. Perfectly cooked noodles. Tender chunks of beef and mushrooms. A bit of parsley garnished the top—from his greenhouse, of course. It smelled incredible.

“Axel, I...”

“Try it first. Then you can critique my efforts.”

I took a bite. Then another. The flavors were perfect—maybe even better than my own version, though I’d never admit that out loud.

“Well?” He was watching me intently, rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes.

“It’s terrible,” I deadpanned. “Worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

His face fell for half a second before he caught my grin. “Wee brat,” he growled, but there was warmth in it. Relief.

We ate. We talked—really talked, for the first time in days. About nothing important. About everything. He told me about a deer he’d spotted on his pre-dawn run. I told him about Sonny’s latest skateboard mishap. He asked about the physics of refraction, claiming he’d been thinking about it since my lecture. I tried to explain and ended up drawing diagrams on a napkin while he nodded along, looking genuinely interested.

The candles burned lower. The wine bottle emptied. And somewhere along the way, the tension that had been choking us since Monday began to unwind.

After dinner, we moved to the couch. He’d started a fire in the fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows across the walls. I curled into the cushions with my wine glass, and he settled beside me—close, but not quite touching.

“This was really nice,” I admitted. “Thank you.”

“You deserved something nice. After the week you’ve had.”