Chapter 3
Garen
My phone buzzing nonstop on the side table wakes me early in the morning. Groaning, I stretch and blink at the weak morning sunlight. What the hell time is it? Grabbing my phone, I see it's my sister calling.
'This better not be you celebrating the first day of spring like you did on the winter solstice. It's way too freaking early for that, Olympia," I grumble when I answer.
"No, little brother. I need your help," she says on the other line, and I sit bolt upright in bed.
"What's up? Are you okay? Is Ruth okay?"
"We're fine. Nothing happened to us or anything. We're not hurt. It's just that today is the big Ostara Festival, and John and Deb were supposed to help all day, but they both came down with the norovirus."
"Ew."
"Yes, ew, little brother. But like I said, it's just me and Ruth today. By any chance, are you able to come down the mountain and help? The Ostara Festival is always one of our best-selling days. We are going to be swamped."
I stare out into the dim bedroom, rubbing my face with my free hand. A festival? She wants me to help out at a popular festival surrounded by hordes of people?
"Garen, are you there?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm here. Sorry. Of course, I'll help," I grumble.
"You, little brother, are a lifesaver. I promise the next time you come to our place for dinner, I'll make you your favorite. Beef Wellington."
"Seriously?" I ask, my grumpy mood already lifting.
"Yup. This is such a huge favor. I know how you hate crowds. Thank you so much."
"Of course. See you in a few hours."
The festival is everything I feared, bustling with people and with constant interaction with strangers.
But my sister and her wife's booth is incredibly busy, so I focus on being happy for them and try to ignore how uncomfortable I am with all the peopling.
As lunchtime nears, Olympia waves her keys in front of me.
"Little brother, will you do me another favor? Stock is getting low, but Ruth was smart to pack extra paintings in the van. Do you mind grabbing them? They're in the back."
"You got it, sis," I say, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head before heading out into the throng of people.
As much as I want to rush through the festival chaos, I force myself to walk like a normal human being. I pass a booth for the Corvid Valley Single Parent Foundation and make a mental note to stop by later and donate.
Once I wind my way behind the last row of booths, I pick up speed toward the parking lot. A cottontail rabbit hops out in front of me, and I freeze, not wanting to scare it. Then, the animal shifts into a curvy woman with graying brown hair. I jump back, my hand slamming against my chest.
"Holy shit!"
The woman glares at me and snaps, "What, have you never seen a shifter before?"
I shake my head with a nervous laugh, feeling my cheeks heat because I reacted like a nervous dipshit.
"Yes. Of course. Sorry. I was just startled."
She returns my apology with another glare before walking over behind a booth. I continue on my way, grumpier than before. What the hell? I said sorry. What the fuck is that lady's problem? She may be a knockout with curves in all the right places, but what a shitty attitude.
I power walk to my sister's beat-up van and stack the canvases so I can carry as many as possible. Slamming the door shut and locking it, a wave of guilt washes over me. Crap. What if that woman thought I was some sort of bigot?
Shit.
I take my time walking back, carrying the pile of paintings in my arms. When I pass the beautiful woman's booth, she glances over her shoulder.
Our eyes meet, and she glares at me before turning back to the customer she's helping.
I plod back to my sister's booth, and am greeted with cheers and thank you's from the two of them.
When it is almost time for us to pack up, I quickly excuse myself and make my way over to the Corvid Valley Single Parent Foundation booth. A woman with graying auburn hair and bright blue eyes smiles at me when I walk up.
"How can I help you?"
"I was just wondering if you had something like a QR code for me to scan so that I can make a donation?"
"Oh, that would be wonderful," she says, offering her hand. "I'm Dawn Perkins. I'm the manager at CVSPF."
I take her hand and give it a firm shake. She slides a QR code my way, and I pull out my phone, scan it, and donate the max amount allowed before smiling at her.
"It was nice meeting you, Dawn. Have a good day."
Turning on my heel, I begin walking back to my sister's booth when I hear Dawn gasp behind me and call out, "Thank you so much, Mister Sterling!"
Stopping, I turn, and grin at her. She stares at me with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, clutching her phone.
"Of course. I'm adding you to my annual giving list. Thank you for everything you do." I pause, then add, "But please, call me Garen."
"Wow, thank you again!" she chokes out. A cowboy with floppy hair walks over, and a small toddler breaks away from him, running up to her.
"Mama! Mama!"
I watch them for a moment, feeling an unfamiliar tug in my chest. Envy, maybe. I shake it off and walk back to my sister's booth, my mood much lighter than it was at lunchtime.