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And I’ve always been nothing more than a cursed asshole.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I won’t do anything to hurt her.”

Even if that means continuously pushing her far, far away.

Chapter 12

Auror

“I’ve never seen her this pissed off,” Leo grumbles, closing the fridge for the third time in the last three minutes. It just won’t stay shut.

He’s home today, but I can’t even be happy about it. Turns out, the cottage really doesn’t like him. Either that, or she’s mad about something else, but how am I supposed to know? She’s a house.

It swings back open, and a jar of marinara sauce falls onto the floor, shattering and seeping onto the hardwood. Looking way too much like a crime scene. I make no move to clean it, and Leo mutters curses, looking around the different drawers, nooks, and crannies.

“Rags are over there. To the left.” I lift a shoulder. “Be nice to the cottage. She’s just a girl. She’s allowed to be moody.”

I’m not my mom. I don’t have a soft spot for the house, or whatever, but Leo acting this annoyed is just… well, it’s more annoying than the house.

Leo gives me an annoyed look as he slides past me to grab a rag. The fridge stays closed this time, and Leo drops to his hands and knees, cleaning up the mess.

I rub my hand against the wooden kitchen island in an attempt to soothe the house, but it seems to do the opposite. The lights flicker, and the walls shake in a way they haven’t since we moved in.

Leo rubs his forehead. “I’m too hungover for this. Can you tell her that, please?”

“Trust. She doesn’t listen to me.” I roll my eyes. “Besides, it’s already afternoon. You should have taken a potion.”

“Shut up.”

I lift my hands. “Sorry.”

Not sorry.

Truthfully, I don’t mind him being a little short with me, and I don’t really mind that he’s upsetting the moody cottage. This is probably the most time we’ve spent together since moving here, and even though he’s snapping at me more than he’s speaking with me…

Fuck. I’m really lonely if I’m looking to Leo for friendship, aren’t I?

“No, no. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a dick.” He sighs and slumps onto a stool at the kitchen island, but the chair moves out of the way just as he sits down, and he falls flat on his ass.

Somewhere in the house, there’s a delighted laughter—feminine, soft, a bit chaotic. I don’t dare ask Leo if he can hear it, too. We don’t need a repeat of the conversation with Luke.

“She really doesn’t like you.” I press my hand to my mouth to keep from laughing along with the house.

Laughing with it? As if it’s a person? I don’t understand what’s going on, but the more time I spend with the cottage, the more it feels like that’s the case. It feels real.

Leo picks himself up and dusts off his backside. “She doesn’t know me.” He raises his voice. “And maybe we should keep it that way!”

Sounds good to me.

I nearly jump out of my seat. Yup, the house’s voice is distinctly feminine, but Leo… he doesn’t react. He doesn’t seem to hear it at all.

Oh no. Maybe I need to see a doctor after all.

“I’ll make you a sandwich or something.” I slip from my chair and turn my back to Leo, so he can’t read my face. “You know, soak up some of the alcohol. Or maybe you’d rather have a drink?”

Nothing like the hair of the dog, right? The only thing better is the actual potion meant to take care of hangovers, but Leo has always been stubborn when it comes to remedies—whether medicine or potions, or even simple spells. Headaches? He suffers until it goes away. He once let a hex give him boils for a week before finally letting our mom cast the hex-breaker spell. Probably deserved it, knowing him.

Unless there’s a broken bone, he won’t ask for help.