Chapter 20

Alden

AS SOON AS ROWAN CLOSES the door in the foyer, I let out a sigh and slump against the wall. I can just barely hear Aurora’s voice as she and Rowan walk away from the cottage, as cheerful and lighthearted as ever.

Those are two things I’m certainly not feeling.

When she stumbled yesterday, my heart felt like it seized up. I knew she seemed off, less bubbly than usual. Of course, she waved the whole thing away with a brush of her hand, saying she was just tired from the summer heat and needed to rest.

Last night, while I lay beside her in bed, I watched the moonlight play across her face as she slept. It turned her skin a shade of silver, her hair a shimmering pale hue. And as I listened to her steady breathing, I whispered into the dark, “I love you.”

She didn’t wake, didn’t so much as budge.

But Harrison heard me. He was lying right there beside her, cuddled up into the blanket, his eyes watching me steadily.

And knowing those two can communicate, I suddenly feel like I need to have a word with him—because if someone is going to tell Aurora I’ve fallen in love with her, it needs to be me.

Pushing off the wall, I head back into the kitchen and pick up my half-full teacup before pulling the door open and stepping out onto the side of the cottage. I don’t immediately see Harrison or Lucy, but as I sip my tea and scan the garden and surrounding forest, I hear a scuffle of leaves.

Sure enough, Lucy is just inside the tree line, digging through the leaves that still remain from last fall. As she scratches and pecks and scratches some more, Harrison claws the trunk of a sturdy pine tree, shredding little pieces off.

“Harrison,” I call out, and surprisingly, he flicks his ears and turns to look at me. He doesn’t come over though. Of course not. Like any self-respecting cat, he makes me walk over to him .

Lucy clucks when I approach, and I stoop to give her creamy brown feathers a gentle pet. She allows it, even closes her eyes for a moment. Then, once she’s had her fill, she trots back off toward the garden, probably in search of more grubs.

Harrison still sits at the base of the tree, gaze pinned on me, waiting.

“So...” I start, glancing around as if Rowan or Aurora or Lydia is going to pop out of the trees and giggle at me for trying to talk to the cat. But no one is anywhere near here—all I hear is the summer breeze whispering through the trees and the distant burble of the river, which is full now and rushing with snowmelt. Thinking of the river makes me remember the day Aurora climbed on top and rode me right there on the riverbank, and I have to quickly pull my mind away from that lest I give myself an uncomfortable tightness in my trousers.

Looking back to Harrison, I meet his intense green gaze.

“I know you heard me last night... heard what I said to Aurora.”

He just blinks.

“And I’d appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself. I’m going to tell her... when the time is right. Can you do that for me?”

I’m not sure what I expect from him. It’s not like he nods or smiles or something.

But he does hold my gaze for a long moment, then blinks slowly, stretches, and sprints off to find where Lucy has gone to. And somehow, that feels like confirmation enough.

I stand and stretch my back, then finish off the rest of the tea in my teacup. The air is already growing warm, even in the shadow of the tree line, and given the buzzing of the insects and the smell of plants in the air, I expect it’s going to be a hot day. Which means I should get started on the coop before the sun rises too high.

But before that, there’s one other thing I want to do, something I’ve been thinking about for some time now.

“Hey, Harrison,” I call out, striding after him and the chicken. “Come over here, would you? I need to see how tall you are.”