17. Lorin

Chapter seventeen

Lorin

L ife had newfound appeal. With a working theory that actually seemed to have some basis in fact, Lorin and Kit—especially Kit—were rushing ahead toward a solution.

It finally felt within reach.

The push and pull of magic actively seemed to affect whether Kit was forced to shift or not. They'd caught it a few times, enough that Lorin was confident this was the answer.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse, in contrast to their happy mood. Heavy snowfall had come in overnight, laying a soft blanket over the world. Lorin's grandma had dropped them off some supplies early that first morning before it got too bad and stayed long enough to hear the latest breakthrough. She'd given Lorin some advice and dug out some books from the magic room—one on meditation to open magical pathways and one on simple spells to use in everyday life.

The more magic Lorin used, the more it could help Kit.

She'd left before the car got snowed in.

It had been a few days since then, and Kit had managed to stay human on and off for about half that time. Lorin wasn't used to pushing his magic toward anyone, and when the magical exhaustion got to be too much, Kit was open to shift back.

So far they'd managed to make it to three hours solid before the shift came. Lorin was eager to keep pushing it. His magic had its limits, however, and that became obvious very quickly. After being ignored for so long, like a muscle, it was weak, and the excess stress had it struggling to recover as fast as Lorin would have liked it to.

His own limitations frustrated him, until human Kit gently reminded him he could draw on his familiar power to recharge. And when Lorin said gently, he meant Kit smiled that beautiful smile of his at Lorin and then called him stupid in the same breath. Told him they were bonded for a reason and that the bond went both ways. Kit was getting Lorin's magic as a drive to gain his shift back, but Lorin was supposed to be using the familiar bond to recharge faster, focus his magic better, use it more efficiently.

Once that sank in, Lorin had no choice but to listen to Kit. He allowed the familiar bond to do its job, power flowing to him and replenishing him faster than he was used to. He used spells for whatever he could think of after that. Stirring tea. Folding blankets. Dusting.

The whole house was alive with it.

Kit seemed delighted in both forms, chasing the mop around the floors or poking at a hovering cushion until he got bored or exhausted.

Currently he was in his human form, lounging on his stomach in front of the small fireplace that was lit and crackling. He was dressed for once—a hard sell to the shifter, but a necessity for Lorin's sanity.

He'd snuggled into Lorin's fluffiest cream jumper, the length bunching the fabric at his hips and giving him sweater paws. He looked adorably round, and not unlike he was wearing his fox fur. The pants had been a harder compromise, with Kit refusing to wear anything but Lorin's tartan pajamas and slipper socks with cartoon dogs all over them. They were cocked up into the air currently and swinging lazily. An open fiction book with a blush-inducing cover was in front of him, as well as a steaming cup of Glenn's tea.

It appeared to be helping. Kit wasn't wincing as much, and he'd been able to vocalize a little more. Still no talking though. He was on strict vocal rest for a few more days before Lorin felt they should attempt it since they were unable to take Kit to a doctor for fear of being found out.

Kit seemed exasperated by this stipulation, calculations going on behind his eyes that promised he was up to no good even as he nodded his acceptance.

He was a fox, after all.

A fox who had demanded kisses and attention and looked so pretty Lorin couldn't concentrate.

He hadn't realized just how small this cabin was until there was another human occupying it regularly. Arms and hands brushed. Bodies connected, squeezing past one another. Everywhere Lorin looked, there Kit was, looking so indescribably happy and beautiful even when he was getting into things he shouldn't have been.

The stars only knew why he had to empty the silverware drawer onto the floor to rifle through.

There was no escaping the building feeling in his chest. It was easy to ignore when Kit was a fox. Easy to concentrate on the problem. But human Kit was devastating. Lorin felt like collapsing in defeat a minimum of three times per hour. Because they were in such close quarters though, it brought to mind the very real logistic problems they might soon be facing.

Like food for two people.

His grandma hadn't packed for two humans, and Lorin didn't think Kit wanted to eat the raw fish she'd packed for him with a human tongue and teeth. At least, he didn't seem that interested in it, stealing out of the cupboards and filling his cheeks with various foodstuffs without shame.

Lorin couldn't blame him. Five years without chocolate had to be a hellish existence.

Sleeping arrangements were also becoming a very apparent problem. They only had one sofa, and sleeping on the floor wasn't a long-term solution.

Lorin was stuck pondering these problems as his gaze moved toward his parents' room from where he was standing in the kitchen. It was still closed up tight, despite the house's best efforts to coax him in there.

It would crack the door occasionally, but Lorin would slam it shut every time. Even Kit knew instinctively not to trespass in there, but maybe…maybe it was time.

The idea terrified him, having no clue what lay beyond the door. But he'd been slowly immersing himself in this space. It was starting to feel like the home it was supposed to be for him instead of a shrine.

All that was missing was this last piece.

He moved before he could second-guess himself, padding across the floor and pausing in front of the door. His hand hovered over the handle, and the house, for once, didn't push. It allowed him to grasp the metal and push down and in.

It swung open smoothly, stirring up a few dust motes.

It was dark, the navy curtains drawn across the windows, but Lorin could still make out the shape of a heavy wardrobe and a bookcase filled with all sorts of trinkets on the far wall. The double bed with beautifully carved posts, and head and footboards in the flowing shapes of waves was the focal point in the middle of the room. A footrest lay at the end over a rug.

Lorin shuddered out a breath, feeling pressure behind his eyes and nose to go along with the lump in his throat. He refused to break down and cry like he'd done before though.

He stepped into the space slowly, reverently as he made his way to the window instead of flicking the light switch. He drew the slightly musty curtains, revealing the beautiful set of floor-to-ceiling windows Lorin had glimpsed from the outside.

Light flooded the space, the stark whiteness of the snow illuminating it further. Lorin stared out at the view, feeling like he understood his parents exactly in that moment.

The beauty of the forest was spread out before him. It was like being outside.

He turned around to take in the room in the light and spotted Kit's head poking around the corner, his amber eyes looking concerned.

Lorin smiled as best he could. "It's okay."

He looked around himself. The covers were blue too, a lighter shade, and the furniture was a dark wood Lorin recognized from the trees outside. He stepped forward and traced the bedpost, following the lines with his hands and wondering if his mother or father had made it themselves.

Kit stepped up to his side, grabbing a hold of Lorin's sleeve, not for attention, but as a show of support.

"I guess I was feeling brave today. It's going to be the same whether I do it now or in two years, right? It'll still hurt just as much."

Kit ducked his head to meet his eyes, nodding in support, as if to say without words, ‘you are brave and I'm here for you.'

He moved to the side then, huddling in one of the corners as if letting Lorin know he was there but that he wouldn't stand in his way, like he somehow understood Lorin needed to do this on his own.

And he did.

He had to breathe in the magic his mother had left lingering in the air. Had to let his eyes see the place they were the most vulnerable together, the place where they felt safe together. The place where his mother had taken her last breath. And the place where his father had surrendered to their bond and followed her.

The room pulsed with their power. After holding it in for all of the years since they'd been gone, it felt like it was coursing through his veins. It reminded him of the magic room, but this was different. The magic room had harnessed power, controlled spells, and well-thought-out rituals. The power in this room was raw. Waiting to be gathered and used. Waiting to feed into something bigger, something more substantial than the sum of its parts.

Lorin didn't know where to start.

His hands ached to touch everything, to see if there were memories triggered that he wasn't aware of yet. If there were traces of his parents there that weren't just the tales his grandmother had told him. He wanted to know if there was anything of him merged with them that he could find.

He needed to see if there was a family there. His family.

He ran his fingers over their pillows, saying tiny incantations as he went, making sure the tendrils of his magic went to Kit as well. He needed him to stay. The magic worked up the dust from the bedding and sent it glimmering into the air, the tiny particles like glitter against the brightness of the day.

He sent his magic to open drawers, to slip inside them and pull out whatever it could find. He found confirmation there of what his grandmother had always told him. His mother had been chronically organized and tidy. Her bedside table was neatly filled with essentials she wanted to have close. Lorin found her favorite perfume, a small phone book she kept close, and a small binder filler with handwritten instructions for rituals she wanted to try. It was color coded and separated into the moon phases and times of day when the ritual worked best. There was also a small jar filled with pretty rocks in different shapes and sizes.

A memory flashed before his eyes of her wearing a necklace with a rock pendant on it. Lorin ran a finger over the jar, wondering if that necklace had been made from the rocks she'd collected. He wished he could trust his mind with it.

His dad, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. His side was basically just one junk drawer after another. Filled to the brim with whatever he threw in there, it seemed, and jammed with objects that wouldn't budge without a little magical intervention.

Lorin sent an incantation inside, pushing the drawers open and finding the most random assortment of things he could imagine. The small pocketknife made sense, as did the scraps of wood he had started to carve into small figurines.

But there was a lone glove in there too, a pack of batteries, a roll of copper wire, a set of dice, parts of a pen that had been taken apart, and so much more that Lorin couldn't even process it all.

"I don't think I take after my dad at all," he said softly, turning around to look at Kit and returning the reassuring smile he sent his way.

He moved to the wardrobe at the other end of the room, opening it and gasping at the scent that he knew for sure had belonged to the two of them. Those memories he trusted. They felt real. Tangible somehow.

Grass and wood, lavender and humidity. He ran his hands over his mom's dresses and his dad's shirts, using magic again to clear out any evidence of time on them. The fabric moved like it was alive under his fingers, slipping through them and whispering as it fell down again.

He didn't remember any particular outfit or pattern, but it all still felt like a part of his past. Like he knew it was somehow a part of him.

He moved a few clothes hangers and spotted a large box at the bottom of the wardrobe. He crouched and opened it slowly, coming face to face with what looked like a photo album—one he hadn't seen before. One his grandmother had never shown him.

He took it out of the box and sat down with his back against the bed, the scent on it now fresh and herbal. Calming. He balanced the leather-bound photo album on his knees and placed his palms on top of it.

He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as his eyes misted over. He wanted to see the memories inside, but he wasn't sure he was capable of opening himself up to it.

A head landed on his shoulder and pale fingers covered his in a comforting touch. The sound of paper ripping broke through the swirl of emotion inside of him, and then a note appeared in front of him.

I'm here.

A beacon of light showing Lorin he wasn't alone. He turned his head to the side and pressed his lips against the fluffy hair tickling his neck.

"Thank you," he whispered, taking the note and tucking it close to his chest as he cracked the album open.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like he was avoiding a jump-scare when he knew nothing like that would happen. The rush of pain was similar to the rush of fear though. The album opened to a photo clearly taken at a bonding ceremony.

The same clearing he had found Kit in, the same tent and the same decorations. And in the middle of it all, his mother, wrapped in the arms of a man wearing nothing but cotton shorts and the biggest smile.

He was looking at the camera like all of his dreams had come true at the same time.

"My parents," Lorin said, just to say something. Just to get started. "My mom was a witch. My dad was her familiar."

What kind of a shifter was he? Kit asked through his notebook.

"A beaver," Lorin said. "He built this cabin. For my mom. And me. She was an elemental. Water was her calling. I don't remember her using her powers, but I know Grandma always talked about how she looked like she was made of water when she'd do it."

They sound like they were made for each other.

"They were," Lorin said. "There used to be a stream behind the cabin. He built her a dam to make a tiny pond for her to use in her rituals. It dried out. When she… When they…"

He shook his head and sighed, turning the page.

His parents, standing in front of the finished cabin, proud, happy.

"She wove her magic into the wood for the cabin," Lorin said. "He built it, but she infused it. That's why the feeling of her power is so strong. Everywhere."

She was powerful, Kit wrote.

Lorin nodded, flipping another page. His mother in the pond, her hands on her large belly, a beaver standing next to her, watchful and alert.

Lorin.

She'd been pregnant with Lorin when the photo was taken. The first family photo they had. The first out of so few.

They look so happy, Kit wrote, showing the note to Lorin carefully, like he was making sure he wasn't causing him any more pain than necessary.

"They were," Lorin said. "They loved each other so much."

What happened?

Lorin had expected the question. It was logical to ask it, and Lorin had promised him an explanation in the future.

"She got sick," he said, flipping the pages and swallowing against the tears when he saw himself in the next ones. A happy, smiling child, safe with his parents. "Cancer. Aggressive and untreatable. Grandma tried to tap into some really powerful stuff to help her. She felt like she was letting us all down because there are things magic can't do. This was one of them."

A tear dropped down onto the glossy page of the album and Lorin wiped it away.

"My dad wanted to stay for me," Lorin choked out. "He did everything he could, but the bond they had was one not every bonded couple shared."

He knew Kit would understand.

They weren't just a mate and a familiar, the note said. They were soulbonded.

"They were," Lorin said. "Defying all odds. Always."

So when she died…he followed.

"He did," Lorin said, caressing the faces of his parents in the photos. He'd had so little time with them. A short two years that hadn't even stayed with him because he was too young. They were almost strangers, and Lorin felt pain stab at his heart like it had so many times before.

He wished they were there. He wished he knew if they'd be proud of him. If they'd like Kit. He wanted to ask them so many things. Talk to them about so much.

And he'd never get the chance.

They'd be proud of you, Kit wrote as if reading his mind, and Lorin shook his head.

"I ran, Kit. As soon as I knew the truth about what happened to them, the world felt like it closed in on me. I couldn't see the way forward, but I knew I couldn't be like them. Be magical. Embrace the unknown of my calling. Risk mine or someone else's life after bonding. I couldn't handle the potential for things to go wrong."

They wouldn't blame you for it , Kit said. Nobody would blame you. You were a kid and you lost so much.

"So did you," Lorin said. "But you fought and stayed."

I was already hurt though, Kit wrote. I had to fight to fix things. You were trying to prevent harm.

"Does that justify it?" Lorin asked.

I think it does. I think they'd understand that you needed time to find yourself. You're back now.

"I had no plans to come back."

Why did you?

"Because…" He swallowed and finally let himself examine the real reasons why he had gotten on that bus. Why he had booked vacation time as soon as he saw that message. "A part of me was missing. I'd lost myself along the way."

Kit squeezed his arm for him to continue, his gaze overflowing with compassion.

"Once I moved to the city and got a job, I thought that was it. I had my own place and everything was stable and safe. Exactly the way I wanted it. I didn't tell anyone I was a witch, and no one asked about me. Not really. It was easy to hide because I had no one to hide it from anymore. No one close. No one who knew or understood me. I thought it was better that way. I had chosen my road to walk down."

Kit scratched two words on the paper that struck Lorin right to his core. Sounds lonely.

Lorin blinked away the sting in his eyes and the ache in his chest. "It was," he whispered. "At first, I convinced myself that it was right. That it would start to feel better…"

You weren't happy?

"No," Lorin mumbled, the echo of his grandma's words mixed with Kit's strangling the true answer from him finally. He swiped a tear from his eye before it could fall. "But I didn't know what else to do. Once I made that decision I didn't know how to go back. I was stubborn. This was supposed to be my path forward, but I was so empty and confused. I decided to numb it out. Push it down. And it worked…until my witch marks started coming in. I couldn't ignore it anymore. And that part of me that felt lost didn't want to."

Kit took Lorin's hand in his, stroking along the marks he clearly liked so much.

Lorin remembered the sheer and total panic of seeing that first creeping stain on his nail beds. The threat that it would shatter the illusion he'd built his life around. The reminder of the biggest pain of his life.

Now they represented something completely different.

There was pride and love. His perseverance and sweat and tears were all inked indelibly into his skin. They were purpose. They were all parts of himself that he'd kept sheltered and hidden away for so long. Finally surfacing, finally embraced.

"The moment I found you, things started to clear up," Lorin said.

That's how it should be. I'll always be here to guide you forward. I never want you to feel lost with me , Kit wrote. But you walked this path yourself. I was just waiting at the end of it so we could walk the rest together.

He read the words and felt like he was being cleansed. Like he was being seen totally for the first time, wholly and completely. He turned sideways to cup Kit's face in his palm.

"I never thought it could be that way," Lorin said, swallowing against the weight of what he was about to say. "You made everything make sense."

Kit raised his hand to grip Lorin's wrist. He nuzzled into the palm still on his cheek, kissing the center. He looked up at Lorin, his eyes flashing brighter, ears morphing into points, and Lorin gasped, whispering the first incantation that came to mind. Just to keep Kit. Just to not have to lose him to the shift now that he needed him so much.

The spell did help a bit. The ears rounded again, but Kit's eyes kept glowing. Lorin knew it meant they had very little time left.

Don't strain yourself, Kit wrote to him. You're exhausted.

"I don't want you to go," Lorin whispered desperately.

Not going anywhere, he wrote. I'll be right here with you like I always am. And you can help me shift back to human once we both get some sleep. You won't get rid of me that easy, witch boy.

Lorin tried to find solace in that, fighting against the thrumming need within him to grasp Kit and hold him tight. He caressed Kit's face just under that glowing eye, fighting for calm, to contain every raw emotion within him. He held his gaze and with a final look to confirm that they were on the same page, he leaned in and brushed his lips against Kit's.

He swallowed Kit's gasp and kissed him for real, pulling him closer until their bodies were glued to one another. He used the grip he had on Kit's cheek to tilt his head and angle the kiss better, desperate to push everything he felt into it.

All the things he wasn't sure he could voice properly. He hoped Kit would get it. He hoped the way he kissed him back meant that he did.

Fur sprouted under his fingers and Lorin broke the kiss, breath staggered and heavy as he watched the shift take over.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, and Kit nodded before his fox took over completely, Lorin's palm still on his fluffy head, their eyes still locked together.

Kit

They cleared the room together while the snow fell steadily outside the window over the next few days.

Lorin struggled with it at first. Kit could see the guilt and sadness weighing down his shoulders as soon as he moved even the smallest object. But Kit didn't think it was healthy to constantly live in a shrine to those they had lost. Lorin would never be able to move on, to make this place truly his if he was scared to embrace and change what had come before.

It got easier though. Kit didn't rush him, and eventually more and more things were moved out of the way into what used to be the nursery. Clothes were boxed up reverently from the wardrobe, and Lorin's clothes took their place.

The bedding was stripped off and changed for the spare set they had been using on the sofa. The nightstands were emptied. Some of Lorin's books joined his mother's on the bookshelf, and the gifts Kit had found for Lorin were put in pride of place next to some of the wooden carvings Lorin's father had made, while the rest of the knickknacks were carefully packed away.

They hadn't actually slept in the bed yet, but Kit knew Lorin was closer to taking the leap with every small change.

It even extended outside of the bedroom.

Lorin was finally considering what he liked about the cabin instead of keeping everything exactly the same for fear of losing his parents' essence. They were written into the very beams of the house Lorin's father had made. The house had been given life through Lorin's mother's magic. Lorin would never lose them, and it seemed like Lorin was finding a little peace in that finally, after so long running from it.

He asked for Kit's input too. What his favorite color was. What he thought about replacing the armchair because it creaked so much it actually set Lorin's teeth on edge. What he wanted to add to the place. If there was anything he needed.

It was beginning to feel a lot like their home.

Between all of that, Lorin continued to practice magic, and Kit continued to try and hold his shift for longer periods. They'd gotten it down to almost a science by this point, able to time roughly when he would shift.

Kit used this to his extreme advantage, flirting with Lorin any chance he could get. The kisses they'd shared only pushed him further, longing for more but understanding that the timing wasn't exactly great.

Flirting was fun though, alongside the kisses he often stole. It made Lorin's cheeks pink and left him off-kilter. It lightened the heavy atmosphere on harder days and left a zing of excitement in the air. It was bursting and full of promise. Kit wanted to pop that bubble, but he didn't want to push for something Lorin wasn't ready for.

The snow let up on the fourth day, the sun shining brightly down and starting to melt a little of it.

Kit was sitting crossed-legged at the window in the bedroom after shifting to human, drinking in the sun with half-closed eyes as he drank his tea. He was dressed in another of Lorin's sweaters, this one a light blue cable knit, and he'd reluctantly put on some plaid pajama pants.

Lorin was cooking in the kitchen, the bursts of magic fizzing through their bond. The smell of bacon and toasted bread drifted through the house.

Kit finished his tea in one last gulp, letting it soothe the small ache he still felt there before testing his voice. He'd been doing it privately for a few days while Lorin wasn't looking. He worried a lot, which was lovely, but Kit was getting impatient.

He started off with some smaller vocalizations, simply testing lower and higher sounds like scales. The sounds were weak and hoarse, but they were noticeably stronger than the pathetic squeak he'd managed when he'd first tried.

He opened his mouth and tried, "H-i…"

It broke in the middle, but it was a word!

"Hi."

This time he managed to fully say it, but it was airy and hoarse.

"Hi. Hi—"

"Hi," Lorin said.

Kit whipped his head around and saw Lorin frozen in the doorway with two plates in hand. His messy hair was falling all over his forehead, and the sleeves of his black sweater were rolled up to his elbows in an attractive way. Kit couldn't pinpoint why, it just did something to him. He was also staring at Kit like he was something amazing, and frowning at him like he was mad too.

Kit grinned sheepishly at him and waved. "Hi."

Lorin hurried over, carefully sinking to his knees and setting the plates down between them. He didn't take his eyes off Kit.

"That sounds like it still hurts."

Kit shook his head. He didn't have his notebook to hand, it was in the nightstand that Lorin had said was his now. He did an okay sign for good measure.

Lorin huffed, his mouth curling up at the corners. "I can't believe you finally said something. Have you been doing this behind my back all this time?"

Kit beamed unrepentantly, taking Lorin's hand in his own just because he wanted to. Lorin stroked a thumb over his shyly.

"Looks like I'll have to buy Glenn two coffees."

It was clearly meant as a throwaway comment. A joke. But Kit widened his eyes in happiness at the idea of getting out of the house. He motioned outside to the weather. They could totally go. He'd seen the snowplow go by in the early hours of the morning while he was out as a fox.

Lorin frowned, trying to interpret. "You wanna go today?"

Kit nodded adamantly.

Lorin scratched his neck awkwardly. "I don't know…"

Kit let go of Lorin's hand and crawled over to retrieve his notebook. He crawled back again, flipping to a clean page to write, He's your friend. Don't be shy.

"I'm not shy," Lorin said, twin spots of red bleeding through his skin.

A hermit then.

"Not you too." Lorin groaned.

Please, he wrote, pouting.

Lorin was helpless against it. "Fine! I'll call my grandma and see if we can go to town for a little bit. We're actually running low on food, and I have some library books to return. We have about three hours before you shift back, which should give us plenty of time. We can keep a low profile."

Glenn?

"I don't have his number," Lorin said, clearly avoiding the topic. Kit pouted again and Lorin sighed. "If he's there we can say hello, okay?"

And buy two coffees.

"And buy two coffees," Lorin repeated, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of bacon that he shoved into his mouth. He mumbled around it, "You'd think you were my conscience and not my familiar."

And mate , Kit wrote with satisfaction, darting in to plant a kiss directly on his mouth and snickering gleefully when Lorin choked on his bacon.

They finished breakfast quickly and then there was a small fight over what Kit was allowed to wear outside of the house. He'd consented to the thick boots that were too big for his feet, and the coat and scarf, but refused point-blank to wear the jeans.

It only ended when Lorin's grandma beeped her ancient horn at them from outside.

Kit raced out of the door in the pajama pants with his shoes flopping on his feet and a scarf end trailing after him.

"Kit!"

Kit opened the back door and dove inside, locking it after himself. He smiled smugly from the other side of the glass as Lorin stood there, hair ruffled, with a pair of jeans held in his hands and his bag of books slung over his shoulder.

"Well hello to you too," Grandma said from the front seat.

"Hi," Kit said back.

Grandma raised a brow from underneath the shadow of her witch's hat. "Talking now?"

Kit wavered his hand from side to side.

"Kit. Open the door," Lorin said, hands on his hips.

Grandma rolled her window down a sliver, a blast of cold air creeping inside to battle the sputtering heater. "Stop fussing and get in the passenger seat."

"Grandma—"

"Now, boy! I haven't got all day."

Lorin sulked and rounded the car, getting in. "You shouldn't encourage him. He's going to catch a cold."

"He's built for this weather. You told me that, remember?" she said as she pulled away. Kit nodded along sagely.

Lorin glared at them both, his face going red at having his words thrown back in his face. "As a fox! You know that's what I—"

Kit leaned forward between the seats and smacked a kiss on Lorin's chilled cheek, which abruptly shut him up. It really was too effective. He almost felt bad.

Lorin's grandma's cackles filled the car. "Things are going well, I see. Anything you want to tell me?"

Lorin seemed too embarrassed to talk for the rest of the ride.

"About three hours, you said over the phone?" Grandma said once they'd pulled up in the center of town.

"Give or take, yeah. I'm not strong enough to push it further yet." He looked down at the time on his phone. "We have about two hours left on the clock."

Grandma nodded, pursing her thin lips. "I'll pick you up outside of the grocery store in two hours then. Get whatever else you need done first, then go there. You should get enough food to last you just in case the snow gets bad again, so don't be shy with it."

Lorin nodded. "Thanks, Grandma."

She waved him off fussily, shooing him away, but Kit caught the hint of a smile on her wrinkled mouth. He'd actually caught a few over time. She wasn't as cold as she tried to appear, and she clearly cared about Lorin a lot, even if her ways of showing it were different.

"B-bye!" Kit stuttered, beaming when he got the word out, a feeling of accomplishment sinking into his bones. He caught Lorin doing the same, pride turning his eyes sparkly and lifting the apples of his cheeks. He was too pretty when he smiled.

Kit repeated the word to himself as he shuffled out of the car and onto the street, where he paused abruptly. He stared around himself in wonder, trying to remember the last time he'd been upright in a town.

"Anything you want to do first?" Lorin asked him as he came to his side.

Kit probably changed expressions a million times as he thought of all the possibilities.

They could window shop, sit down and have lunch together, get coffee, CAKE! Kit loved cake. They had to buy groceries, and Kit had never thought he'd consider grocery shopping something to be excited about, but he could actually pick things up and not just trail around at Lorin's ankles.

He was paralyzed by choices. Anything and everything felt like a great idea. He looked at Lorin helplessly.

Lorin smiled. "How about we grab you a few things to wear first?"

Kit shook his head wildly. Nope. That didn't sound fun at all and was not on the nonexistent list they had of what to do with their day. He didn't want clothes.

He tried sneakily shuffling toward the other end of the street, but Lorin gripped his wrist before he could get too far away.

"I think you need at least a few things," Lorin said. "Shoes that fit, if nothing else."

He looked down at the bulky shoes on his feet and the inch gap between his ankle and the heel. He huffed and threw his head back melodramatically, but stomped after Lorin as he led them toward a colorful thrift store down the street.

He was made to try things on. Things that didn't smell like Lorin. He didn't like that one bit. He glared and pouted as Lorin brought him item after item of clothing, adding them to the growing pile of things Lorin said he needed.

"Why do you hate this so much?" Lorin asked at one point between handing out different pants Kit would submit to wearing. Kit pulled out his notebook and scribbled into it harshly.

They smell wrong.

"The clothes?" Lorin asked.

Kit nodded. They don't smell like you.

"Oh." Lorin blushed and Kit grinned smugly. "Well we can, um, wash them in my detergent when we get home. And keep them with my clothes in the wardrobe. They'll start smelling like me soon enough."

Dammit.

Again with the logic.

Fine, he wrote, trudging back into the changing room to try on the rest of the stuff Lorin had piled in there.

It wasn't that he hated clothes altogether. In the past he had, of course, worn clothes. But they had always been loose and easy to shed. He didn't like to be restricted from any sort of movement, especially with his legs. If he could wear shorts at all times, that would be the dream.

So he was picky. Not just about scent.

He was wrestling with the stubborn sleeve of a sweater when he heard a familiar voice coming from outside the cabin curtain.

"Lorin, hey. Didn't expect to see you out of your cave," Glenn said.

Kit widened his eyes and rushed to get himself dressed again.

"Glenn!" Lorin said, sounding thrown off and awkward. "Hi."

"Shopping?" Glenn asked as Kit scooped up his haul, bursting out of the door.

His excitement turned abruptly to jealousy as he found Lorin and Glenn standing closer than he necessarily liked. While he knew there was nothing there—Lorin was his mate, and there had never been anything but awkward budding friendship between the two—the fox in him suddenly didn't care.

He wedged himself between the two of them, his back to Lorin's chest as he grinned up at the other man.

"Hi!" he said, working very hard to keep his face looking friendly. He had no idea whether it had worked, and Glenn was giving no indication one way or another as he smiled in surprise.

"You can talk!"

He seemed so genuinely happy that Kit relaxed his stance, shrugging in answer without the aid of his notebook.

"He's okay to say hi and bye for now without it hurting," Lorin said for him, pulling him into his side a little. "But he's forbidden from trying anything longer than that until the pain in his vocal cords is completely gone."

"Is the tea helping?" Glenn asked them both.

Kit nodded, shuffling the clothes in his arms enough to give the man a thumbs-up.

"It seems to be. We'll have to wait to know for sure until we can safely get him to a doctor," Lorin said before wringing his fingers together in front of him and shuffling his feet. Kit recognized the nervous habit and leaned closer, hoping it would help soothe him. "Um…can I, maybe, buy you that cup of coffee…to thank you?"

Kit felt pride burst inside his chest as Lorin got the words out. So maybe he didn't like Glenn standing too close, but he did want Lorin to have friends in the witch community. Or friends at all. At least one friend.

He definitely didn't want him to be lonely.

"I thought you'd never ask." Glenn beamed, slapping Lorin on the shoulder.

Lorin stumbled a little and sent him a small nervous smile. "Great, um, let me just go pay for these and we can find somewhere?"

"There's a cute café just around the corner that opened a couple of years back. Amazing pastries," Glenn said, pointing his thumb behind himself. "Go check those out and we can head there right now."

"Don't you have clothes to buy too?" Lorin asked, looking at his basket in confusion.

"And miss the chance to make friends? No way," he said, casting the basket aside and wrapping his arm around Kit's elbow. "Some shirts can wait. Come on, Kit, we can…"

"He doesn't leave my sight," Lorin said, like a reflex.

Glenn paused for a second before fixing his smile back on and nodding. "Understood," he said. "We'll wait right here."

He didn't let go of Kit's arm though, and Kit hadn't seen Lorin's eye twitch quite that way before. Lorin huffed and headed to the register. Kit tilted his head as he watched after him.

Was Lorin a little bit jealous too? The thought made him very smug, he wasn't gonna lie. Clearly his flirting and mating techniques were top tier.

Lorin settled the bill as quickly as he could, marching back to them with a few bags, and together they walked out of the store and around the corner to the café.

Glenn was right. It was charming. All sunflower yellow details and delicious-looking pastries in the display cases. The inside smelled of freshly baked bread and sugar. Kit felt his mouth water as they approached the counter. He glued his nose to the glass, eyeing a richly glazed donut.

"I think he wants a donut," Glenn whispered very loudly.

Kit would have been offended at being mocked, but he did really, really, really want that donut.

He turned to Lorin and blinked a few times, hoping it came across as cute.

"You'll have a hard time saying no to that face," an amused voice said.

Kit glanced up to find the cheerful, rounded face of the woman behind the counter. Her blond hair was tied up in a messy bun, a tiny dormouse tucked inside it so only two beady black eyes were poking out. Clearly her familiar. She had an apron with the café's name on it over an impressive baby bump she was cradling with one hand. A magazine full of baby furniture with a few things circled was open to her right.

"Millicent." Glenn greeted her happily, drumming his fingers on the counter. "How's the bump treating you?"

"Like a punching bag. And stop using my government name. It's Millie to anyone who isn't my harpy of a mother who stuck me with it," she said with a sigh before turning her gaze to Lorin. "Nice to finally meet you."

She didn't add anything else, no addenda that held veiled meanings, but also not pretending she had no idea who he was. Kit decided he liked her.

"Thanks," Lorin said shyly, adjusting his long hair nervously. "Nice to meet you too."

"What can I get you other than the donut?" she asked with a wink at Kit.

Lorin ordered a tea and two coffees, and they grabbed a table in the corner. Kit didn't even wait to sit before he was tucking into his treat, lumps of sugar falling everywhere.

As he was trying to enjoy it, he felt people watching them. Kit was always hyperaware of people—that hadn't worn off with the bonding and mating. Cocooned in their bubble, it was easy to relax, but out here in the big wide world he still kept up an acute awareness of his surroundings, no matter how much fun he was having.

His paranoia had come too late to help him five years ago, but it had kept him safe since he'd escaped the coven that had taken him. So he recognized when eyes paused on their table every few seconds, how steps faltered and whispers carried. The way Lorin was starting to shift uncomfortably and glance around them let Kit know he wasn't the only one who had noticed.

Until one older witch plucked up the courage—or the audacity—to actually approach their table, looking down at the three of them.

"So…the prodigal grandson makes his return to our small town and starts making friends," she said. "How nice of you to remember we exist. Are we finally good enough for you to grace us with your presence again?"

"Lita," Glenn said sunnily, his smile never falling, but there was an iciness in his eyes that had never been there before. Apparently, he didn't like everyone like Kit had thought he did. "I see you know Lorin. And this is Kit, his boyfriend."

"Hi," Kit said, beaming at the word boyfriend. It didn't really mean much when they were bonded so much deeper than that, so much stronger, but it still sounded nice. He liked it.

The woman rudely ignored the fact that Kit even occupied time and space, taking a breath to say something more as Glenn tilted his head and leaned closer.

"I'd love for you to join us, but I have found a really odd mark on a very intimate part of my body and was about to confide in Lorin about it in great, excruciating detail," Glenn said. "I don't suppose you're interested in hearing about it?"

She made a disgusted face but wasn't deterred. It wasn't until Millie called her name from behind the counter that she paused.

"Lita, your order is ready!" she called sweetly. "I managed to rush it for you. I know you have places to be."

Lita huffed and made her way to the counter, grabbing it before leaving with her pointy nose in the air. Millie watched her leave before rolling her eyes, walking out from behind the counter, and approaching their table.

She grabbed their empty cups. "Don't listen to her. She had the same attitude with me when I dared to go to college somewhere else."

"Me too," a guy from one table over grumbled, mostly to himself. "She's mean."

Millie didn't wait for a reply, simply walked off with a sincere smile. Kit watched Lorin watch her go, a complicated but contemplative look on his face.

"She really is deranged. I wouldn't worry about what she says," Glenn said.

Lorin snorted, meeting his eyes. "And you're unhinged. What would you have done if she'd said yes?"

Glenn shrugged. "Improvised?"

Kit giggled.

"Unhinged," Lorin repeated.

"Aw." Glenn cupped his cheeks in his hands. "Are you one of those people who show affection by poking and prodding at every single character trait?"

"I don't know," Lorin returned, rapid fire. "Are you someone who has character traits that need poking and prodding at?"

"Pfff, I'm a delight," Glenn said, placing a delicate hand on his sternum.

Lorin actually smiled at that.

Kit felt warmed from the inside out and grabbed Lorin's hand to link fingers.

They sat there for a little while, chatting about different things before Lorin realized the time had flown by too quickly. There was no time to get the rest of their errands done. They barely had enough time to get to the store while Kit was still present.

Lorin mumbled a shy invitation for Glenn to join them.

Kit wanted to sing with happiness.

It only got better as Kit raced around the grocery store, grabbing everything he'd been craving for five years and anything he thought he may have missed out on. Lorin did his best to try and control the amount, simply taking items out of the cart when reasoning didn't work, only for Kit to sneakily put them back.

Glenn trailed them the whole time with his own small basket, chatting cheerfully and laughing. He alternated between helping Lorin fight for reason and flip-flopping and running interference so Kit could add five bags of chips.

It was chaos and they drew plenty more looks, though nobody else said a word. Kit had a feeling the huffs and rolled eyes were more to do with the noise and clamor than Lorin.

It was when they were at the checkout with a woman who called Lorin ‘hun' and inquired after his grandma in a pleasant tone that Kit had the feeling their den wasn't the only place they could make into a home.