6. Nick
CHAPTER SIX
NICK
Icatch little whiffs of Izzy’s scent the next day, all over town as she goes around talking to vendors, and I go around helping people. I don’t ever actually see her, but now that I know her, I can smell her everywhere.
Cinnamon, vanilla, and nutmeg. The sweetest treat.
Despite Izzy essentially demanding to take over my scheduling yesterday, I barely had time to catch my breath. The rest of my day after our meeting was jam-packed with broken sinks, busted doors, and whatever other nonsense the people of this town tend to get into.
So much so that when I finally dragged myself through my front door at the end of the day, I only had enough energy to inhale a bowl of cereal before passing out in my bed.
My thoughts today are on her with every hammer, every screw, every pipe, every random animal that needs rescuing from a tree. I’m consumed with thoughts of her laughter, her sense of humor, her lips.
I’m practically howling with the need to catch even just a glimpse of her by the time evening creeps below the tops of the evergreen trees. Maybe it’s the moon high in the sky, or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve finally found my mate, but my instincts are harder and harder to ignore.
Without conscious thought, I find myself following Izzy’s spicy-sweet trail, her scent growing stronger as I draw closer. I walk along the sidewalks until I’m outside Georgie’s café, and I see her.
She’s chatting with Georgie as she cleans up for the day, that light-infused smile on her face. It’s important she makes friends and finds a community here.
At least, it is if I’m ever going to keep her.
That’s what I tell myself as I back away slowly, smiling to myself at the laughter between my best friend and my mate.
I wonder if Georgie has said anything about Izzy being my mate? I’ve never known her to keep her mouth shut, although stranger things have happened.
I should let them be.
I step back from the shop and turn to the town.
My town. The streetlamps flood Main Street as people make their way home for the evening.
There are a few cars on the road, but people mostly walk—even in the classic Pacific Northwest rain, of which we’ve had a small break from for the past two weeks.
I stuff my hands in my jeans pockets and start the ten-minute walk home. It’s shocking how just meeting Izzy has already infused a sense of optimism I didn’t have before into my life. My parents always told me finding a mate would bring a sense of peace they couldn’t describe.
How right they were.
If only they could be here to see the woman chosen for me by the Goddess. It’s been almost four years now since their car accident, the one that took them from me.
The one that left my older brother in the hospital, but breathing.
Once he recovered, he couldn’t stay. He said that he couldn’t walk past the sight of the accident, past the park our parents took us to as kids, without blaming himself.
He checks in every couple of months, but the distance grows with every year.
I shake my head. There’s nothing to be done about it now.
All too soon, I’m at my front door and stepping inside my childhood home. The place I’ve loved for years. The place I’ve spent every free moment crafting into my dream home because I couldn’t bear the thought of selling it.
The place that, for the first time, feels truly empty. I see now how it needs Izzy’s personality. Her touches.
Her scent.
I whip out my phone before I can talk myself out of it.
Nick: Can we meet up to talk about everything tomorrow morning? Tea Leaves?
The desperation to see her, to spend time with her, lodges itself thick in my throat. I want to know her. What’s her favorite color? Her favorite movie? Who is her best friend? Does she have siblings? Does she love to paint?
Isabella: I was just about to suggest that! Great minds *winky face* is eight too early?
Nick: Never, if caffeine is involved. I’ll see you then.
I exhale a relieved breath. Knowing I’m seeing her tomorrow is only a temporary salve, but it helps the anxiety all the same.
Isabella: I updated your calendar if you want to look it over beforehand.
That’s my girl.
I spend the rest of my evening going over her downright brilliant changes to my calendar and marveling at just how thorough she’s been. I could tell she was intelligent, but I had no idea how terrifyingly efficient she is.
The whole thing is color-coded. Color-coded! I thought she was joking about that.
Even this is a window into how her brain works, how her mind shuffles and organizes the things she’s forced to reckon with.
And by the Goddess, is she a force. Now I just have to convince her to give me a chance.