“So what’s the problem?”
She stared at the screen. “Now I’m terrified I saw the wrong path. What if it all goes wrong? What if her business fails and her kids resent me and she ends up destitute and it’s all my fault?”
I walked over, gently tipped her chin up. “Liora. You saw possibility, not a guarantee. You nudged her toward what she already wanted. The rest is up to her. That’s how this works.”
“Is it?” she whispered. “What if I’ve taken on too much?”
I thought about how earnest she was, how she rooted for everyone to win, always. The way she’d talked about destiny like something that could be mended.
“You’re not in charge of everything,” I said. “Just your part. And your part, as far as I can tell, is giving people courage. They decide what to do with it.”
She breathed out slowly, shoulders relaxing. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”
“At what?”
“These talks,” she said. “The way you reframe things. It helps.”
I shrugged, embarrassed. “Just telling you what I see.”
“Do you think Greta’s business will work?” she asked, worry clouding her gorgeous face again.
“You already know it will,” I said, confident that her magick was strong. Hell, it was strong enough to force me into a truth spell. Which, admittedly, was still decidedly annoying when working with customers, but I also was getting used to navigating it. At the end of the day, the spell hadn’t been horribly disruptive to my life. “You saw it.”
“Aye, but it does help to hear you say it,” she admitted. “It makes me feel less like I’m playing cosmic Jenga with people’s lives.”
“You’re not,” I said firmly. “You’re just helping them see what’s already there.”
She smiled shyly at that, and I realized just how much I wanted to make her feel good—all the time, not just in bed. It was like watching a flower bloom slowly, and I wanted to gently water her, so she could show the world her beauty.
On Thursday, I took her into the forest with me.
It had been my idea. I wanted to share my world with her so she could get a sense of what my everyday life was like. The solitude. Inviting her into that felt like handing her the key to the last locked room in my house. I’d never really done that with a partner before.
“Will there be mud?” she asked that morning, standing in the hallway in jeans and a chunky jumper, hair braided back from her face. Bracken was perched on her shoulder like a tiny, judgmental parrot.
“Aye.”
“Will there be bugs?”
“Might be. But also it’s heading into winter, so far less of them, I’m sure.” I bit back a smile.
“Will there be murdering?” She eyed the chainsaw in my hand.
“None on the agenda today,” I said. “Just clearing up fallen trees on a path, darling.”
“Good. I don’t think I’d feel good about you taking down a healthy tree,” Liora said.
“I try not to. But those we take for cabinetry or firewood, we’re constantly replanting. I suppose I do things a little differently than some. I keep my land as a thriving ecosystem, and it’s a give and take, really.”
She pursed her lips, taking in my words, then nodded. “Then I approve.”
“Good to know I’ve got your permission,” I muttered, but my mouth twitched.
We hiked up the slope behind the house, the air was sharp and clean outside, the sunlight faded and soft as it crept toward winter. Frost clung to the edges of leaves and the ground was firm under our boots. Bracken hopped from her shoulder to mine and back again, chittering like he was running field commentary.
“Is he narrating our walk?” I asked, amused, but also enjoying having the wee man come along with us.
He chattered energetically.