Chapter 11 Austin
ELEVEN
AUSTIN
The sun was warm enough to peel off the layers by midafternoon.
I’d spent most of the evening hauling wood chips into the back half of the duplex lawn, where grass had given up and weeds had taken over.
Winnie had drawn a map for me, complete with a garden marked by sparkly ink and ominous warnings in red crayon about fairy territory and cursed rocks that must never be moved.
I followed it like gospel.
I was laying out the first row of raised beds—just rough-cut frames for now, lined with cardboard and filled with compost—when I heard the door creak open behind me.
Music filtered out first. Something bright and bouncy with a retro beat. Then feet—two sets—tapping along to the rhythm on the back porch.
I turned, wiping my forearm across my brow.
Selene stood in the doorway of her place, holding her phone in one hand, the other extended toward her daughter. She was barefoot, laughing as Winnie tried to copy her movements, elbows flapping like a baby bird, braid swinging behind her.
“You’re cheating,” Selene said, twirling in place.
“I’m improvising,” Winnie declared, nearly colliding with the railing.
Selene caught her just in time, steadying her with both hands, and then they were laughing again, spinning together. The sun caught in their hair. It painted Selene’s face in warm gold, catching on her cheekbones, glinting off her collarbone where the neckline of her dress dipped just slightly.
She hadn’t seen me staring yet.
I leaned on the handle of the shovel, pretending to inspect the garden bed, though my eyes kept drifting back to her. Her hips swayed as she danced, loose and easy, like no one was watching. Like she didn’t even care if they were.
Maybe she didn’t.
“Hey!” Winnie called suddenly, catching sight of me. “You too!”
I shook my head and straightened. “Nope. Busy. Very official garden duties underway.”
Selene arched a brow, playful. “Scared you’ll get shown up?”
I grinned. “Terrified.”
Winnie ran through the gate toward me and grabbed my hand. “Just one spin. I don’t care if you’re dirty.”
“Peer pressure is a powerful thing.” I laughed, dusting off my hands and setting down the shovel before twirling Winnie’s arm in a wide circle.
Selene clapped as she stepped onto my side of the lawn. Winnie beamed and gave a dramatic count-in like she was cueing a Broadway number. I took her hand, spun her once, then dipped her into a ridiculous bow.
She shrieked with laughter.
Selene shook her head, arms crossed but smiling. I caught her eye and gave her a wink.
She looked away too quickly, but when I handed Winnie back and spun to return to my side, I heard her murmur something under her breath.
“What’s that?” I asked, pausing to look back at Selene.
She looked at me then. “You’re really good with her.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d said that, and the compliment shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did. I scratched the back of my neck. “She’s easy to like.”
Selene smiled again, but this one was quieter. Thoughtful. It lingered in my chest as I went back to my garden plot.
The buzz was still there hours later, even after the sun dipped below the horizon.
On Saturday, I was driving through downtown, and I hadn’t expected to see them.
I’d just wrapped a grocery run—milk, eggs, a six-pack of whatever beer was on sale—and was heading down the main street in town when I spotted my favorite duo.
Selene in jeans and a striped tee, Winnie bouncing beside her in light-up sneakers and a unicorn backpack, both holding ice cream cones that were melting faster than they could keep up.
They were laughing. Heads tipped toward each other, matching strides even though one had to slow down and the other had to half skip to keep pace.
I pulled over without thinking.
The window rolled down, and I leaned across the passenger seat. “You two planning to walk all the way back?”
Selene turned, startled. Then her mouth curved into something that made my mouth go dry.
“We’re not that far,” she said. “Just needed to get out for a bit.”
Winnie ran to the window. “We saw fairies by the library!”
I blinked. “You don’t say. Are they wandering into enemy territory?”
She shook her head. “They left glitter trails, and it’s bad luck if you don’t say thank you.” She narrowed her eyes at me as ice cream dripped down her wrist. “Did you say thank you last time?”
My lips twisted. “I’m gonna be honest—I don’t remember.”
She sighed like this was exactly the kind of oversight that explained the general state of the world. “You’re lucky you didn’t get cursed.”
Selene looked up at the sky. “It’s getting late.”
Winnie pointed dramatically. “That’s when the Lady comes out. She walks the roads and looks for people who forgot to be kind. I hope we see her.”
I tried not to laugh as Selene groaned. Winnie was into lore of all kinds, but you couldn’t escape chatter about the Lady, and Winnie’s young mind took the stories as fact.
I popped the door open. “In that case, you’d better hop in. I’d hate to be responsible for a ghost-related incident.”
Selene hesitated, like she might insist they were fine, but then she glanced at Winnie, who had already climbed into the back seat, cone carefully balanced in both sticky hands.
“Thanks,” she said quietly as she got in beside me. I nodded and reached across to the glove box and handed her a wad of extra napkins.
Winnie kept up a running commentary about magical portals and fairy physics, then trailed off halfway through a sentence. I glanced in the rearview mirror to find her slumped against the window, cone licked clean, fingers sticky, and eyes closed.
“I think she’s out,” I said.
Selene twisted to look, her expression soft. “She never makes it past eight these days.”
I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The shared porch lights were on, casting everything in a warm, amber glow.
“I can carry her,” I offered, already climbing out.
Selene opened her mouth, maybe to protest, but then she just nodded and got the door.
Winnie didn’t even stir as I lifted her. She tucked into my shoulder, completely trusting, small and warm and smelling like watermelon candy, dirt, and sugar.
Selene led the way, holding the door, then stepping back so I could navigate the hall.
Her room was dim, the curtains drawn. I laid her on the bed and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. She mumbled something incoherent and curled onto her side.
I stood there for a second longer than necessary.
Then turned to find Selene watching from the doorway, arms folded across her chest, something unreadable in her eyes.
“She’s lucky,” she said. “Having a friend like you around.”
I didn’t know what to do with that.
“I’m the lucky one,” I said, before I could stop myself.
It felt too honest. Too close to something I hadn’t admitted yet—not even to myself.
Selene looked away. I followed her out to the living room. The night was quiet, the whole house still. A breath between things.
At the front door, I hesitated. “Okay, I’m going to head out.”
She nodded. “Thanks for the ride. Sorry if she got ice cream all over your new car.”
I turned the knob, but stopped.
Selene hadn’t moved. She was still standing there in the glow of the hall light, arms folded like she was holding herself together.
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I knew one thing for sure:
This—her, Winnie, the routine of this life—it was starting to feel like something I didn’t want to give up. Even if I wasn’t supposed to want it.
“Night,” I said.
“Good night,” she echoed.
I stepped onto the porch, into the hush of early autumn air and crickets, and didn’t look back.