Page 93 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“See you Saturday, Becca!” Iris called from behind the counter, just before I slipped out.

“Sure thing! Can’t wait.”

Axel’s eyes narrowed as we approached his truck. He unlocked it and opened the door for me. “Saturday?”

“Yep!” I hopped in and buckled up, reaching for my bag. “The Fall Fling.”

I could feel Axel’s gaze burning into the side of my face. He didn’t move. Just stood there, one eyebrow raised as he digested this. “You’re going to that thing?”

My lips parted. “It’s the Fall Fling! Everyone’s talking about it. An event to celebrate literally my favorite time of the year. Of course I’m going. I promised Iris I’d meet her there. She offered to pick me up but your place is a little out of the way and I know how you are about your privacy.”

“You were going to go alone.”

“I was going to meet Iris there. That’s not alone.”

“That’s alone.” His voice was a low growl. “Blackthorn is still out there. You think he doesn’t know about this festival? Or how much you love autumn? The whole bloody town’s been talking about it for weeks.”

“Axel—“

“You’re not going alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Iris⁠—“

“Is human. Can’t protect you from a witch.”

Neither could he, but now didn’t seem like the best time to point that out. I glanced up through the windshield and my eyes caught on Iris standing at the counter in The Roost. She was staring straight out the window. At us. At Axel, who still had his coffee and cookie in one hand, the other braced on the door as he scowled down at me.

She was scowling, too. Probably wondering why he was just standing there instead of getting in the truck.

I pulled my gaze away and said, “So what, I’m supposed to just hide inside your cabin forever? Never do anything normal?” My frustration bubbled up. “Moving here was supposed to be a new life for me. I’m making friends. I refuse to let Ambrose take that away.”

“I’m not asking you to hide.” He exhaled and his shoulders dropped. “I’m asking you to let me come with you.”

“To the Fall Fling?”

“Aye.”

“You. At a crowded harvest festival. With live music and dancing and hundreds of people.”

His jaw clenched. “I can handle it.”

“Axel, you hate crowds. You literally live in the middle of nowhere specifically to avoid people.”

“I hate the idea of you unprotected more.”

The words hung between us. Simple. Direct. Utterly sincere.

I studied his face—the hard set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand gripped the door like he was physically restraining himself.

“It’s going to be loud,” I warned. “And crowded. And there will be children running around hopped up on apple cider and candy. Booths. Activities. And I’m going to want to experience all of it. If you can’t handle that⁠—”

“I’ll survive.”

“You might have to dance with me.” I lifted a brow, teasing.

Something shifted in his expression. The tension didn’t leave, but something else crept in alongside it. “That so?”

“It’s a fall festival, Axel. There’s a whole barn dance thing. It would be weird if we just stood there.”