Chapter 14

Alden

I'M SITTING ON THE TOP porch stair, knife in hand, working on the final details in the wooden cat I've been whittling for the past week. It's somehow taken on a bit of a smug look, and I blame it on Aurora's cat, Harrison. I'm pretty sure cats can't smile, but I swear that one can damn near smirk.

I've just carved some texture into the cat's fur when the sound of dirt crunching under boots catches my attention. I look up, heart squeezing, already hoping to see a head of green hair appear walking down the path.

But lucky for me, it's my sister.

A breath eases out of me in a sigh, and I go back to whittling as she walks the rest of the way to my cabin.

"Hello to you too," Lydia says. She tosses her shoulder bag down next to me before taking a seat. "Scoot over."

"I was here first," I mumble, but still, I yield some space, making room for her to cuddle up beside me .

"What're you working on?" she asks, leaning over my arm so her curls tickle my nose.

It's obvious I'm not going to be able to focus with her here, so I set my knife aside and hand her the cat carving.

"Oh my goddess," she whispers, holding it up in the afternoon sunlight. "This is beautiful." She turns it this way and that, then pauses. "You know, this kind of looks like..."

The hesitation causes me to meet her brown eyes, and I already know that look.

"This looks like Aurora's cat." She arches a brow at me, and I have to fight not to let heat rise into my face.

"Well, it's not," I grumble, reaching for the carving, but she holds it out of my grasp.

"Who is this for, then? Hmm?" When I don't answer, she flashes me a grin. "It's for Aurora, isn't it?"

Again, I don't answer.

"I knew it! Oh my goddess. She's going to love it."

After admiring it for a moment longer, she passes it back to me, and a tangible tension releases from my chest just having the cat back in my hands. I set it very gently aside, next to my knife, handling its delicate legs with utmost caution. When I lift my gaze to Lydia again, she has her cheek propped in her hand, a little smile on her face.

"What?" I ask. It doesn't come out quite as grumpy as I intended.

"You seem happier," she says. "Lighter, somehow. That's all."

It's hard to argue with her when I know she's right. I've been waking up earlier just to appreciate the sunrise, scowling less, and even smiling at people. It's... strange. But not in a bad way.

"You have any snacks?" Lydia says, standing up in a swirl of colorful fabric and yanking my door open to traipse into the house.

She's already gone, probably ransacking my cupboards, so I don't bother answering. Instead, I pick the cat back up and turn it over in my hands, trying to imagine it sitting on Aurora's mantel or in her kitchen window.

Maybe even in her bedroom.

The thought reminds me of our night together. She invited me to stay over, and there was no way I was turning her down.

I never thought I'd get to try out the mattress I brought her, but there I found myself, arm wrapped around Aurora's slim waist, her body tucked firmly against mine, her soft hair brushing my cheek as I slept. And when the morning came, I didn't want to move, didn't want to leave the comfort and safety of her bed.

But I made myself. And I've wanted to go back every day since.

The door opens again, and Lydia plops back down beside me on the porch.

"These are good." She holds up a handful of lemon cookies. "Where'd you get these?"

Stealing one from her, I take a bite and offer her a rare smile. "Do you really have to ask?"

Her forehead crunches, and her lips turn down in a frown. "Aurora made you these? She didn't make me any. "

"Oh, she did. I just took them all before she could get them to you."

Aurora brought them by yesterday, Harrison trotting at her heels. It took some convincing to get her to part with Lydia's batch, but I don't tell Lydia that. It's more fun to see the flash of irritation that goes across her face.

"You're the worst." She shoves me playfully, but it barely gets me to budge. "Hopefully she'll make these for Ostara. Oh! Speaking of which." One of her brows arches in the corner. "Are you coming this year, or am I going to have to explain to everyone yet again why my brother refuses to participate in village festivals?"

My natural inclination is to tell her no and leave it at that. But then I won't get to taste Aurora's baked goods, and I almost can't stomach the idea of missing out on another loaf of sourdough with that delicious lavender butter she makes.

"We'll see," I say.

"Hmm." Lydia pops another cookie into her mouth and chews thoughtfully, her brown curls catching on the breeze. "I'd call that progress."

I wouldn't.

I just call it Aurora.