Chapter 9 Austin
NINE
AUSTIN
The car line was at a dead stop, parents waiting outside their vehicles for the kids like they always did at pickup.
Over the past few days, I had learned that the line was long enough to make a man start contemplating whether kindergartners truly needed an education.
I leaned against the side of the SUV, letting the warm breath of late afternoon drift through.
Sunlight hit the paint in sharp, slanted beams and lit up the dust on the dash like golden mist. It was light that made everything feel softer, even the tightness in my chest that always showed up when I was waiting.
Then—there she was.
Winnie Darling came flying down the steps of the elementary school, her backpack thumping against her small frame, arms flung out like she might take off if she caught enough speed.
A teacher’s aide tried to wave her into a more dignified walk, but she ignored it completely, focused and grinning like she had a secret she couldn’t wait to spill.
I yanked open the passenger door, and she scrambled into the seat, already talking before the buckle clicked. “You’re not late.”
I raised a brow as I adjusted the straps on her booster seat. “Have I ever been late?”
She shrugged and popped the cap on her pink water bottle, like that was irrelevant. “Not yet.”
The words weren’t bitter, they were casual. A simple fact, but they landed hard in the small, quiet place in my chest that was growing more and more aware of the unspoken gaps she’d already learned to sidestep. I shook my head as I climbed back behind the driver’s seat.
Before I could respond, she narrowed her eyes, examining me like a biologist discovering something half interesting in a puddle. “You’re dirty.”
I looked down at my shirt—smudged with drywall dust and a thin streak of joint compound across the hem from the job I’d barely finished in time to make it here.
“Rude,” I said, feigning offense. “This is called looking rugged.”
Winnie grinned like she didn’t believe a word of it. Then she reached into her glitter-covered backpack and pulled out something small clutched in her palm.
“For you,” she said, holding it out on her open hand like it was something sacred.
I took it slowly—a small, shimmery stone, flecked with bits of mica that caught the sun like stars—red and purple with a faint swirl of silver.
“It’s a protection stone,” she said seriously. “Just in case. For the coming week. I had to do a blessing with it last night, but the magic should hold.”
I stared at the stone for a long second, caught off guard by the earnestness in her voice. No teasing. No performance. Just childlike truth—the kind only kids knew how to hand out without apology.
“Thanks,” I said, quieter now. I slipped it into my pocket without a joke. It didn’t need one.
“I got Mama one too.” She grinned.
“She needs protection too?” I asked.
Winnie shook her head. “Hers is for relaxing. Mom has the best laugh when she’s not stressed out.”
A puff of air shot out of my nose. This kid. “She does, doesn’t she?”
Winnie settled back in her seat, humming a song I didn’t recognize as she pulled her legs up cross-legged like the car was her living room.
As we drove around the parking lot and out into the street, I asked, “So what’s new in the castle?” Winnie and her friends had been spending their recess time playing make-believe. It was hard to keep up sometimes, but the drama was better than any TV show.
Without looking at me, Winnie said, “There’s been a coup in the Lavender Wing. Queen Esmerelda tried to take over the North Hollow during second recess, but Felicity—she’s head of the Moon Court—said that was against treaty rules. So now there’s going to be a magical trial by winged combat.”
I blinked. “Dang. That’s intense.”
“Ms. Evelyn says I have too much imagination.” She wrinkled her nose at the accusation. “But she just doesn’t understand Fae law.”
I shook my head. “Well, I think that’s a pretty serious oversight on her part.”
Winnie grinned. “Right? I mean, the Hollow’s territory only goes up to the hopscotch line. Everybody knows that.”
I nodded solemnly. “Obviously. Boundaries are important.”
She beamed. “Exactly.”
The street finally cleared ahead, and I eased into the late-day traffic with one hand still resting near my pocket where the little stone sat, warm from the sun and her palm. It was nothing. A simple rock, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I wasn’t her dad or her stepdad. I wasn’t anything, really.
Except maybe something she counted on.
That thought settled somewhere deep inside me, quiet and unfamiliar. The kind of weight that didn’t feel heavy, just permanent, like a key left in a lock.
She pointed up ahead. “Can we drive past the pink house again?”
I smiled. “The one with the cat in the window and the mailbox shaped like a mushroom?”
She nodded. “That’s where I think Queen Esmerelda’s hiding until the trial.”
“Then absolutely,” I said, flipping on my turn signal. “We can’t let her get away with a hostile takeover.”
Winnie raised her water bottle like a toast. “To the Resistance.”
I reached back to tap my knuckles against hers. “To the Resistance.”
And we drove on.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, the sun had dipped low behind the tree line, turning the sky a dusky watercolor of plum and gold.
Winnie kicked off her sparkly sneakers at the bottom step and darted up the stairs with an energy only children seemed to store in endless supply.
I followed at a slower pace, the weight of the day settling into my shoulders, the slight ache in my knees reminding me I was pushing my limits.
I looked out at the carriage house. I couldn’t hear the muted click of Selene’s keyboard, but I could see her.
Her back window glowed with warm light, casting her silhouette in motion—shoulders hunched slightly, one hand braced against the desk, the other moving fast as she typed.
She worked like she lived—quietly focused, with no room for distraction unless someone needed her.
When she realized we were home, she dropped everything without hesitation.
Winnie flung open the back door. “Mom! We’re home! And guess what—Austin says Queen Esmerelda is totally overstepping her boundaries!”
I watched as Winnie flopped onto the couch, already unzipping her backpack and pulling out a tangle of worksheets and a crumpled granola bar wrapper.
A minute later, Selene padded in barefoot, glasses sliding down her nose and a pencil tucked behind one ear. Her hair was up in a twist, and she wore a soft oversize T-shirt that hit just below her hips, paired with leggings that clung to the curves I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing this close.
“Thank you for picking her up,” she said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Winnie’s head before looking at me.
“Anytime,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “She’s excellent company. Gave me the full rundown on the fairy kingdom’s legal system.”
Winnie pointed a crayon at me. “He agrees with my interpretation of the treaties.”
Selene gave me a mock-stern look. “So now you’re a diplomat?”
I shrugged. “Apparently.”
She shook her head and smiled, a small, tired thing that tugged at my chest in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Her glasses slipped lower, and she pushed them back with the heel of her hand.
When her phone buzzed again, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is a call I should take. You mind hanging out for five more minutes?”
“I’ve got her,” I said. “Take your time.”
Selene’s hand brushed my forearm briefly—barely there, but enough to spark heat under my skin. “Thanks,” she murmured, already backing toward the hallway.
I moved to the kitchen, unboxing the emergency mac-and-cheese stash I’d picked up last week after discovering Winnie’s aversion to anything green that wasn’t a sprinkle or candy. Then I moved toward the fridge and pulled out a bag of broccoli florets.
Winnie groaned as she walked in. “No. No green trees. I already had fruit today.”
“You had half a strawberry yogurt for breakfast,” Selene said as her head popped back into the kitchen.
“And I sniffed a grape,” Winnie added.
“Not the same thing,” her mom muttered under her breath as she listened to the voicemail.
I cleared my throat. “What if we made a deal?”
Both turned to look at me. Selene’s eyebrow crept toward her hairline. Winnie narrowed her eyes like a seasoned negotiator.
I pointed a spoon at the pot. “If you try one bite of broccoli tonight—just one—I’ll build a vegetable garden out back.
You get to pick what we grow. I’m talking candy-striped carrots, purple beans, weird tomato hybrids .
. . whatever you want. Then, if it’s okay with your mom, the only veggies you have to eat are the ones you grew. ”
Winnie considered this, tapping her chin dramatically. “I want a fairy pumpkin.”
Selene’s eyebrow creased. “What is a fairy pumpkin?”
“It’s very small and glows in the moonlight,” Winnie explained with a gap-toothed grin. “Obviously.”
I leaned toward Selene. “Is that a real thing?”
She lifted her shoulders and I laughed. I nodded solemnly at Winnie. “We can start planning tomorrow.”
Winnie gave me a regal nod and disappeared back into the living room.
Selene mouthed thank you at me over the stove, and I just shrugged, but something about it stayed with me—how she looked when she said it. Grateful. A little surprised. Like maybe she wasn’t used to backup.
Selene held her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone. “I’ll be back soon.”
I waved her off and then found Winnie sitting cross-legged on the couch, absorbed in a book about underwater fairies and their pet dolphins. We made up a game—trading turns reading in the voice of the sea witch, trying to one-up each other in dramatics until we were both doubled over with laughter.
Selene returned twenty minutes later to find Winnie curled up beside me, her cheek resting on my arm.
I started to pull away, unsure—but Selene shook her head and whispered, “She’s fine.”
“I’m heading out,” I said quietly, carefully slipping out from beneath Winnie’s cheek.
Selene walked me to the door. “Thanks again,” she said. Her voice was warmer this time. Closer.
I hesitated on the porch, one hand still on the knob. “You work too hard,” I said, nodding toward the carriage house. “Did you even eat lunch today?”
“I’ll devour that broccoli mac and cheese.” She waved me off. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
I didn’t say anything then, but I gave her a faint smile and walked back to my side of the duplex.