VII . Contractions & Cheese Curds

Aurora

H azel’s living room is empty. Voices drift down the stairs. After a short debate, I scale the steps. Hazel sits up in bed with Sable stooping over her as she takes her vitals. Slate hovers beside her, his hands clenching and unclenching anxiously.

“Rory,” Hazel greets me. Her face is placid like nothing is the matter. Slate’s startlingly green eyes shoot up to mine, but he dismisses me and refocuses on his partner.

“Hey sis, how’s it going?” Cautiously, I approach the bed, choosing to stand on the far side out of the way.

Hazel sighs dramatically. “It seems like I might be in early labor, maybe?”

“Are you kidding me?” I brace myself on the bed and look her over.

“Yeah, I think? They might be practice contractions, but they hurt more than they used to.” Her words halt abruptly. She sucks in a breath and holds it. Her nose scrunches up.

Sable moves her hands over her belly and murmurs indistinctly.

“I think it’s most likely early labor,” the older woman declares.

“Holy crap,” I say, sitting down to steady myself.

Sable steps back and folds her hands. “It’ll be a while until you’re in active labor. You’ve got at minimum a few hours, possibly a whole day. You should relax and get a good meal in.”

“Can you get me some chocolate, baby?” Hazel asks, and Slate nods. Without a word, he brushes past Sable and heads out of the room.

“He’s taking good care of you, it seems,” Sable says.

Hazel’s face breaks into a bright smile. “Yeah, he is. I can’t wait for him to be a dad.”

“I’ll be back to check on you in an hour. I think rest is best right now, considering how active you’ve been. If your labor moves slowly, we can consider walking.”

Hazel nods. Satisfied, Sable picks up her bag and heads for the door.

“So it’s baby time?” I ask, crawling across the bed to sit beside my sister.

“I guess so.” Her grin is elated. “You ready to be an auntie?”

“Definitely. And you’re ready to be a mom, so it’s perfect.” I rub circles across her belly. The muscles contract under my hand and Hazel inhales sharply again. I can’t help but hold my breath too.

She relaxes. “It’s not bad, really. Mildly uncomfortable.”

“Are you getting pain meds? Can they do that out here?” I ask, alarm raising my voice.

Hazel shakes her head. “No, and it’s fine. Sable has some options for emergencies, but I can handle this. I’m in the best shape of my life. It’ll be fine.”

I want to argue with her. There’s no reason for her to go through that pain. But she looks confident, and it’s her choice.

“You should go enjoy your day. You can come back when things are getting serious, okay?” She pats my knee. “I just want to relax and read for a bit.”

“Gotta squeeze one more book in before baby?” I tease.

“What are you up to today?” she asks.

“Oh, Cedar got new chicks for the coop and I helped him place them with a mama hen. She accepted them right away. It was really cool.”

“Sounds cool.” Her cheeks indent and her eyebrows raise an almost imperceptible amount. “Still enjoying spending time with Cedar?”

I bristle at the not-so-casual question. “He’s my friend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, we can be friends. I’m not flirting.” I refuse to cross my arms like I want to. She must buy it, because she nods and leans back against her pillows.

“And goodness knows, he doesn’t know how to flirt,” Hazel says with a giggle.

He doesn’t need to flirt. I bite back the thought. “So he was going to make some cheese and I think I’m going to go help.”

“Jealous. I’ve never done that. It seems complicated.”

“Want me to bring you some of the cheese?”

She smooths her hands over her belly and presses against her hip in the spot I know is hurting her. “It probably won’t be ready for a while. They age it, right?”

“I have no idea. I guess I’ll find out. I’ll bring you some if I can.” Reluctantly, I climb off the bed. “Don’t have the baby without me, Mama.”

“No promises. You better get back here in time. But seriously, give me some peace and quiet. This will be my last chance to be alone for who knows how long.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I hesitate at the door, soaking in the sight of my wonderful big sister. She’s glowing, a halo of radiance around her warm skin and dark hair. A contented smile curves her mouth, and I’m reminded how much she loves her life now. She’s happier than I’ve ever seen her. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted for her. But under that, jealousy twinges under my breastbone. Maybe someday I will feel the same sense of belonging and confidence in my skin.

Trotting down the stairs, I look around to see if there is anything I can help with. Dishes to wash, laundry to fold. I want to be useful. But everything is tidy. Slate has even hung up my paintings in the nursery already. Baby Daddy has it covered. Some of the tension relaxes from my shoulders, and I head toward the door.

She wants me to go have a good day while she relaxes and lets her body do its thing? Sure. I’ll go make some cheese.

Cedar is still in the garden. He sits on the end of the garden bed that I helped him plant and picks out some of the baby plants.

“What are you doing?” I ask cheerfully.

He looks up, sweeping over me in an analytical way. “Thinning. Everything good with Hazel?”

“Yeah, she’s started labor. But she said to not come back until tonight. She wants to relax during these early stages.”

“So the baby is coming?” He stands, letting a pile of greenery tumble to the gravel path.

“Sometime tomorrow or maybe late tonight I expect.”

His gray-blue eyes connect with mine and widen with excitement. I want to squeal and jump up and down, though anxiety over my sister giving birth weighs me down. Cedar seems to see all of this. “It’s going to be fine. She’ll do great. Sable has helped with dozens of babies. She knows what she’s doing.”

I let his strong arms pull me into a hug. The feel of his chest against my cheek calms the buzzing under my skin. The warmth radiates out to my fingers and toes.

“Thanks,” I murmur. “I’m so excited, but also…”

“I know.” His hand strokes over my hair and I sigh. The feel is exquisite and I wish he would bury his fingers into my hair, but his hand stops at my upper back like a gentleman. Mentally shaking myself, I step back and tuck my hands into my pockets. “So should we make some cheese? Sounds like a good distraction.”

“If you want to.”

“I do. Teach me, oh cheese maker!” My nose scrunches as I grin at him.

Cedar offers his arm and we walk out of the garden and past the school building to his family’s cabin. At the front door, he pulls off his boots and I take off my tennis shoes before we cross the house in our socks.

“This is where you grew up?” I ask. It’s so quiet, I suspect the house is empty.

“Yeah. This is my sister’s room,” he says, pointing at a door decorated with stickers. “And this is mine.” He pushes the door open partially and I see a tidy space with navy bedding neatly made up. The far side of the room is empty.

“You shared it with Onyx?”

“Yeah.” He scratches at the back of his head. “I haven’t really done anything with the space since he moved out.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Almost a year.” His eyes stay on the floor.

Biting my lip, I ask, “Do you want to move out too?”

“Maybe. It’s not really a priority, honestly.”

“Waiting for a girlfriend to move in with?” I tease, my brain forgetting to filter my words.

He pauses, those distracting eyes slowly moving to meet mine. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

It’s not the words he says, but the slow way he says it that has my stomach clenching. There’s nothing between us. A few hugs and friendly touches. Totally platonic. And yet it doesn’t feel platonic.

Goosebumps prickle over my arms and I desperately try to recall Hazel’s words. They don’t do casual. He doesn’t date around. He would expect this to mean more than it does. I’m going back to Los Angeles. The thought feels less and less real the longer I spend with him.

He looks away, breaking the tension before he ducks out of the hallway and leads us to the kitchen. We step through the side door, and finally we are standing in the cheese kitchen. It’s as clean and bright as the day of the baby shower.

“Grab a few gallons from the fridge,” Cedar instructs as he reaches for a huge pot.

Pulling the closer fridge open, I freeze. Massive clear buckets of milk line the three massive shelves. How many gallons are in each of these? How am I supposed to lift them? “Um, Cedar, I’m not sure…”

He appears at my back. “They’re three gallons each. We need two of them. Here, I’ve got you.”

Cedar reaches for a bucket and lifts it effortlessly. Not to be outdone, I grab the second one and heave it up. It’s manageable, though I let out an embarrassing grunt.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Yes, I can manage to lift three gallons of milk,” I say, scowling at him.

He raises his hands to pacify me. “I didn’t doubt you.”

My teeth grind together as I move the heavy bucket toward the counter and my arms protest as I attempt to lift it higher. Thankfully, Cedar is attentive and his hands close over the handle on either side of mine before I lose my grip. He lifts it onto the counter without a word.

“Now what?” I ask, shaking my hands to numb the ache of the handle digging into my fingers.

“We need to heat them up to eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit. There are thermometers in the drawers in the island. Can you grab one?”

While I shuffle through the drawers, Cedar pours all six gallons into the pot. Nothing looks like a thermometer. Finally, he comes over and tugs out what looks like a kitchen timer with a probe attached.

“Seriously? That’s not a thermometer, I swear,” I say.

“But it is.” He smiles at me and winks. My mouth falls open. Oblivious to my reaction, he pulls a spoon off the wall and begins stirring. “We have to heat this slowly and stir continually, otherwise it won’t heat evenly and parts can overheat.”

“So we have some time to kill?” I say, leaning against the counter beside him with my elbow against the cold steel.

Cedar’s attention snags on the way my chest sticks out, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling. He clears his throat. “Can you stir? I need to get more… um, stuff.” I want to gloat over how his cheeks tinge pink and his eyes glue to the ground. I’m flirting with danger, but I can’t resist. His lingering looks and soft touches are driving me crazy.

We’re alone here. The garden is open to anyone walking by, but in this small space, no one can see us. It’s quiet. Private.

He sets two jars down beside the pot, and tries to take over the stirring again, but I don’t release the spoon. His fingers curl over mine, and I peek over my shoulder. He swallows visibly but doesn’t move his hand.

The thermometer beeps, and he uses his hold over my hand to tug the spoon out. Warm milk drips on the counter. “We need to add the culture.”

“Okay,” I say, breathless. He opens a jar and measures out a spoonful of powder. “Just sprinkle it over the top.”

Gingerly, I take the spoon and do my best to obey his instructions. It peppers the top and floats there. “Do we stir it in?”

“Not yet. It needs a minute to bloom.” We both watch the clock. “It’s been long enough.”

Turning the spoon in my grasp, I stir the powder into the milk. “Now what?”

“It has to cook for a long while.” His chest rises and falls. “It’s converting the lactose to lactic acid.”

Spinning, I edge closer to him, away from the pot.

“You like the science part, don’t you?” I ask, pleased when he doesn’t move away from me. The stove warms my back, and I revel in the heat of his body at my front.

Cedar’s eyes flicker between mine, occasionally dropping down to my mouth. “It’s interesting.”

It’s clear he’s interested, but I suspect he won’t do anything about it. I want to drag him closer and kiss him, but that last shred of caution holds me back. Taking a slow, unsteady breath, I speak my thoughts.

“Hazel said you don’t date.”

“You asked about me?” he says, his mouth curving into a smirk.

My fist props on my hip. “Well? Do you?”

“I haven’t.” His voice is hoarse, making my toes curl.

“That’s not quite the same,” I murmur. “If you haven’t dated, have you kissed anyone?”

The pause almost kills me. He could get irritated with me or embarrassed. The pink flush is back in his cheeks but he clears his throat and says, “No.”

Anxiety and excitement bubble up, stronger, buzzing in my chest. “Have you ever wanted to?”

Hopefully I’m being clear enough. He stills, tension through his shoulders as he holds our eye contact. “It hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Not at all?”

“Not until recently,” he admits, and my fingers itch to touch him, but I want him to make the first move. It’s worth the infuriating amount of self-control I’m currently exerting.

His eyes lower to my mouth. I’ve almost got him. “You know,” I say, wetting my lips, “we have over an hour with nothing to do.”

He hums in agreement. The sound vibrates through my bones.

“If you wanted to kiss me, I think I’d really like that.” A flush paints my own cheeks, turning my neck and ears cherry red. The moment waiting for his reaction makes me want to curl up in embarrassment. But he hasn’t rejected me yet. It’s a struggle to breathe.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he says, but his hand moves to my waist. His fingers squeeze and knead my skin and I know I have him. It’s a fight to keep my eyes open with how good it feels.

“It’s just us,” I whisper.

Cedar

My lungs seize up, and it’s a struggle to keep air moving. I’m light-headed. I think I’d really like that. This gorgeous woman looks up at me with spellbinding golden-brown eyes and licks her lips. Damn it.

I shouldn’t touch her. She’s not an option as a mate. She’s human and she has a whole life in Los Angeles. This can’t end well.

My other hand goes to her waist too. The feel of her soft curves crumbles my resolve. I’m going to regret this.

She tips her chin up, her lips parting slightly. I shouldn’t find her this alluring. It’s not just how beautiful she is, it’s the spark of life she carries with her. She’s vibrant, unpredictable, and passionate.

Her delicate fingers brush across my chest. Sparks radiate out from the spot of contact. I’m pulled down like she’s a magnet. The part of my brain warning me to stay away from her is fading, overwhelmed by a desire to please her. To taste her.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. I’m not sure what she means. It’s okay if I don’t kiss her? It’s okay if I do? Would I be okay if I didn’t? No. My decision solidifies and it unlocks something inside of me.

One hand grips her waist firmly, and the other moves to her jaw, hooking a finger under her chin to tip her face upward. Her eyes widen and her pupils devour her honey irises.

“Aurora?”

“Yes?” Her voice scrapes over me.

“You really want me to kiss you, don’t you?” I ask, daring to tease her.

She nods, her chin bumping against my hand.

“How long have you been thinking about it?”

“A while,” she says, swallowing and taking a ragged breath.

“And cheese making is what does it for you?” My tone is so serious, it takes a moment for her to catch my joke. Those beautiful eyes narrow and she pulls back, her mouth curving into a scowl.

“You know, you don’t have to make fun of-”

I don’t let her finish the thought. My arm scoops under her ass, lifting her and twirling us in one sweeping movement, away from the hot stove until I can set her down on the center work table.

Her mouth opens in a surprised gasp. She’s level with me and her knees part to allow me nearer. I grab her hips and drag her closer to the edge, and her hands scramble to grab my shoulders. Her knees squeeze against my hips.

Breathing fast, she blinks at me with her lips slightly parted, waiting for my next move. My fingers tangle in her hair as I finally kiss her.

All rational thought leaves my brain. Her nose bumps my cheek and I tilt my head to better reach her. Her lips are soft and she brushes them against mine and then presses firmly. Fireworks go off behind my eyes. I press against the nape of her neck and kiss her harder. Her lips part and her tongue tentatively dips into my mouth. She’s sweet, gentle, and I want to devour her.

Her fingers thread into my hair and a low guttural sound rolls out of my throat. She must like it, because her hold on me tightens. The feel of her against me, her mouth on mine, is bright sunshine and rich pleasure.

Time loses all meaning, and it’s just her thighs against my hips, my fingers squeezing the curve of her waist, her lips moving with mine, my tongue against hers. With a little hiccup, she breaks off and leans back, letting out a giddy little laugh.

My chin falls to my chest, and I stare at the ground, awkwardly adjusting myself. If I look up, now she’ll see my eyes glowing dusty blue. But then her head tips back, revealing an expanse of throat.

With a shuddering breath, I turn back to the stove and check that the temperature is holding steady.

My reflection in the polished backsplash reveals that my eyes have returned to normal, so I turn to face her.

“You okay?” A goofy smile curves her beautiful mouth, but her brows pinch as concern wars with her happiness. I don’t want her worried, but all of this is a lot. Kissing her was an all-consuming experience, far more than I anticipated.

“I’m fine. That was…” I pause, studying her reaction. “Overwhelming. In a good way.”

“We’ve still got more than an hour, I think.” She grips the edge of the countertop and leans forward, revealing more of her cleavage.

“Is that a request?” I ask.

She nods. I should redirect her. It’s madness to continue. But apparently, I’ve lost all common sense.

All the times I warned my brother he was being foolish by growing close to Ember echo back to me. Now I understand how little choice he had. She’s a supernova sucking me in. Despite knowing the potential and likely consequences, I’m happy to go along.

Aurora smiles as she grasps my shirt and tugs me back. My thumb strokes down her neck and across her collarbone. The way she shivers stirs an unexpected possessiveness in me. I want to be the only one who gets this reaction from her. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip.

Her floral scent fills me as my nose skims along her jaw. I place a kiss on her ear lobe and then trail down. She exhales a soft groan and tilts her head in an invitation.

I work my way down, kissing, tasting, nipping. Her nails dig into my ribs, encouraging me. “I like when you use your teeth,” she purrs. “Go ahead and leave a mark. I want something to look at later.”

Every muscle in my body freezes. Her words spark warring emotions so intense, I almost leap backward. She has no idea what she just said. Grabbing the counter, I focus on slowing my breathing and calming down.

“Cedar?” She slides off the counter and closes the distance between us. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” I try to keep my eyes averted, but she won’t let me. “This isn’t a good idea. You’re going home soon. And I like you, I really do, but this can’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah, of course.” She smooths her hands over her hair, untangling it. “Sorry.”

“It’s time to add the rennet,” I say, turning back to the milk and flipping the stove off. Without waiting for her to help, I measure out the liquid and add it. After stirring it in, I set the spoon aside. “We need to leave it undisturbed for a while.”

“And I’m guessing you don’t want to make out during that time,” she says dryly.

“We shouldn’t.” The disappointment is heavy in my voice. She gives me an odd look with one eyebrow raised. Guilt churns my stomach. Maybe she will walk away and that will be the end of our friendship. The thought hurts. I’m desperate for more, more talking, more kissing, anything. “Would you tell me about your life in Los Angeles?”

Aurora sighs and settles against me. It feels right to wrap my arm across her stomach and let her lean into me. She chatters about her tiny apartment, her job bartending, and her roommates’ crazy behavior. She makes it sound like an adventure but there’s an undercurrent of regret.

She talks until the cheese is ready. I keep listening even while selecting a long knife and cutting the curds into chunks. Using a flat ladle, I slice horizontally. I stir gently to separate them and then let it sit for a few minutes.

Aurora talks about the galleries she’s gotten shows in and how difficult they have been. I can hear her frustration even as she phrases everything optimistically.

Picking up the spoon again, I stir the curds slowly, trying to prevent them from breaking up while I turn the heat back on.

“So what are you doing now?” Aurora asks, peering in the pot with the cutest frown on her pouty lips.

“We need to slowly heat the curds up to one hundred and two degrees. They’re really soft right now, but with heat, they’ll start to firm up.”

“This really is a lot of steps,” she says, looking between the curds and me.

“I think they’re just about done. We need to test them.” Scooping a few curds out, I squish them together in my hand and then prod them. They fall back into individual curds easily. “If they stick together, they aren’t ready, but if they separate again, we are good to go. Now we remove the whey.”

“This is what whey is?” she asks.

Now that we’re focused on the cheese, I’ve relaxed. My body hasn’t gotten the message though, because my free hand runs down her ribs and across her stomach.

“Yeah, it’s the water part of milk essentially. We can use it in place of milk or water in a lot of recipes and it adds protein,” I explain, scooping out whey with a massive ladle until a minimal amount remains.

The door bangs open, framing Marigold. Her mouth is wide open, but she freezes, looking us over. Her expression melts into a smirk. “Oh, you guys look cozy.”

My arm drops and Aurora steps to the side, creating space between us.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but it’s baby time.” Her mouth curves into a frown, like she really is sorry for breaking up this time we had together. It doesn’t matter, I already ruined it.

“I’m going to go,” Aurora says, pointing at the door with her thumb.

“I need to salt this and get it into the press, but I’ll be around if you guys need me,” I say lamely. There is no reason they’d need me.

Aurora leans forward and plants a kiss on my cheek. It takes all my control to not grab her chin and kiss her properly. With a regretful look, she disappears into the house to follow Marigold.

Aurora

The quiet of Hazel’s cabin has transformed. Hazel’s voice drifts down from the second story. Cassia and Marigold hover in the kitchen, talking quietly and glancing toward the stairs. Jasper sits on the couch, forearms resting on his knees, wringing his hands.

“Can I go upstairs?” I ask no one in particular.

Marigold nods and I jog up the steps. Hazel stands at the foot of her bed, bent over with her hands gripping the footboard. Her sweaty hair clings to her neck as she groans. Slate rubs her lower back.

“Honey, I think it’s time for a shower. The hot water will help, I promise.”

“Will it?” Hazel asks, though it’s more a whimper. “Okay.”

Sable looks to me. “Go start the water so it’s hot for her.” I jump to obey. When I emerge from the bathroom, Hazel is swaying in place, growling through another contraction.

“How are we doing?” I ask gently.

Hazel rounds on me. “If you ask about my progress or how long this will take, I will end you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tucking my hands behind me, I back up until I hit the far wall.

“Here, let’s get under some hot water,” Slate says, easing her toward the bathroom. Once the door closes behind them, Sable lets out a sharp exhale.

“Is everything okay?” I ask cautiously.

She studies the closed door. “Yes, it’s going very well. She’s reaching the hard part.”

“How can I help?”

Sable’s silver braid swings as she turns to face me. “You can let her hold your hand and break a few of your fingers. Or listen to her and offer a distraction if you can. Otherwise, stay out of the way and let her body do its job.”

“Okay,” I say meekly.

Uncle Heath fills the doorway. “It’s baby time?”

“Yes and you can wait downstairs with everyone else. Except Marigold, send her up, please,” Sable snaps at him.

“Any issues?”

“No, but there will be if you bother a mother in labor.”

Heath nods and pushes off the door frame. A few moments later, he’s replaced by Marigold. Her reddish gold curls are twisted into a bun and her normally wide smile is pinched nervously.

“Alright ladies, it’s time to prep the bed. Take off the sheets and put down this.” She pats what looks like a plastic shower curtain on the dresser, beside a plain white fitted sheet. “And the new sheet on top.”

Marigold goes to one side of the bed, and I move to the other, and we make quick work of changing the bedding.

“Good, and she’ll be close to pushing when she comes out. I already left her gown in the bathroom, but Slate might need help getting her dressed. We will see.”

While we wait, I wander to the window. A row of houseplants line the ledge. I run my fingers over the glossy heart-shaped philodendron leaves and the round pilea leaves. Walking past the window, I trail my fingers over the spines of books on the impressive bookshelves covering the wall.

The door swings open and Hazel waddles out, now wearing a loose dress with her wet hair clinging to her neck.

“Looking good, Sis,” I say.

She sits on the fresh bed and lets out a dry laugh. “Yep, I’m the height of fashion. Holy shit, that hurts!” She leans forward, bearing down as another contraction hits.

Marigold moves to her other side and Hazel grips her hand as well as Slate’s. Their fingers turn white in her grasp.

“We’re getting there. You’re doing very good,” Sable says, her tone even and calm.

Hazel lays back against the pillows and pushes wisps of wet hair off her forehead. Her eyes meet mine and the irises glow a molten gold.

“Um, your eyes,” I stutter.

Another contraction starts, and Hazel bares her teeth, letting out a growl that raises the hair on my arms.

Marigold comes around the side of the bed and grabs my arm. “I think it’s time we go wait with everyone else.” She pushes me toward the door, but I plant my feet.

Through her lashes, I can see Hazel’s eyes clearly glowing. As she grits her teeth, they look sharper. There’s an animalistic glint to her that triggers fear deep within me. But she’s my sister, and clearly I’m hallucinating.

“Get her out of here,” Sable instructs.

Marigold pulls me toward the door when a crash startles both of us. One of the ceramic pots from the window lies shattered on the wood floor. The vine sprawls out of the shards, reaching up the wall and across the floor.

“What the?” Marigold asks, frowning at the pot.

“Now,” Sable snaps, the authority in her tone finally getting my feet to move.

With Marigold at my elbow, we trail down the stairs. She clears her throat. “Hazel needs some privacy now but I’m going to go clean up that plant really quickly.” She jogs back up the stairs, leaving me facing Jasper and Heath.

“How is she doing?” Jasper asks.

Heath rises and rubs a hand between my shoulder blades. The shock of Hazel’s eyes has started to numb. I must have imagined it or the lighting in that room was stranger than I realized.

“I think it’s going well, but she’s definitely in a lot of pain. It’s got to be getting close.” Numbly, I plop onto the sofa beside Jasper. Heath sits in the chair beside us.

No one speaks. Marigold comes down with a trash bag tied up and takes it out back. Then she settles on Jasper’s other side and holds his hand.

The light through the window fades and Heath walks around, turning on a handful of lights so we aren’t sitting in the dark. After what feels like an age, Sable appears at the top of the stairs.

“Baby is here, but she isn’t up for a lot of visitors. One or two at a time and keep it brief.”

Marigold catches my eye and smiles. “Aurora, why don’t you head up first. And no spoilers.”

“Thanks,” I say, moving toward the stairs. My legs protest each step after resting on the sofa for so long. A gurgling cry comes from the master bedroom, but it’s shushed quickly.

A pile of dirty linens sits right outside the door. Stepping past, I take in the dark room with Hazel curled in the bed. A tiny baby lays against her chest and Slate frames her with his arms. Sable bustles around, tidying up.

“Hey, ready to meet your niece?” Hazel asks, sounding exhausted but unbelievably happy.

I stop by her side and peer down at the little bundle. “It’s a girl?”

“Yeah. Meet Timber Sage.”

“Hi, baby,” I squeak, my voice barely catching.

“Wash your hands before you touch the baby,” Sable interjects.

Sighing, I peel myself away and head into the bathroom to scrub at my hands until they feel raw. I’m not taking any chances with my new niece.

Hazel readjusts her hold and Timber lets out a small cry. My stomach clenches. “Hey, sweet baby girl,” I croon, running my knuckles over the dark downy hair covering her head. She follows my touch, her mouth opening and tongue sticking out. “She’s so cute.”

“It’s time to try feeding again,” Sable says.

“I’ll give you your privacy,” I murmur, moving toward the door.

“Thanks for being here, Rory.” Hazel’s puffy eyes are full of contentment.

“Congratulations.” I’ve never been so proud of my sister. She’s a mom. There’s no doubt in my mind she’s going to be amazing at it.

Marigold and Jasper stand when I reach the bottom of the stairs.

“She’s breastfeeding right now. You might want to wait a few minutes,” I warn. “But I’m going to head home. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Heath frowns at me. “It’s dark. Wait a few minutes for me to meet the baby and then we can walk home together.”

“I can manage. I’ve got my phone with the flashlight app and I’ve walked the path between here and your cabin a bunch of times. I promise I won’t get lost.”

Heath opens his mouth to argue, but Jasper intercedes for me. “There’s nothing out there that could hurt her. She’ll be fine.”

I don’t mention the wolves I saw the other day because that won’t help my case. I’m not wandering through the forest, just walking between two cabins. It’s not far.

“Good night, everyone,” I say, pushing my way out the front door before Heath stops me.

The flashlight on my phone illuminates dirt beyond their porch and I step carefully. Once my feet are planted, I hold the light up and look back and forth. The trees are thinner to the left and I know I have to go straight forward and slightly to the left.

As I pick my way through the brush, the sounds of the forest at night surround me. Bugs hum and chirp, and a clicking sound makes me look up. Dark forms like small birds swoop past above the treetops, and I watch their journeys through the gaps in the branches. Bats. The clicking stalls as an owl hoot echoes around me.

With a smile, I pick my feet up and continue walking home. To my credit, I only stumble once, but when my palm braces against a tree trunk, my hand stings.

A sense of accomplishment fills me when I reach Heath’s cabin. I’m tempted to stay outside on the porch and enjoy the night, but exhaustion pulls me down. To compromise, I crack my window open an inch before washing up and curling up in bed. A red line crosses the inside of my thumb, but it’s not actively bleeding. I’m tired enough, the dull pain doesn’t bother me as I drift off to sleep.