Rowan The Pre-owl Years #2
Rowan casually slung his arm over his uncle’s shoulders for the picture, and he looks so…
Happy.
He looks so happy.
Suddenly, my eyes are wet, and I have to gulp back an unexpected sob.
The picture changes to a seascape, and I set the digital frame back in its place on the bookshelf, tucking the cord out of sight.
From the moment Rowan first spoke to me, I knew he was a person. I mean, of course I knew.
But now…now I can’t unsee him. That eighteen-year-old kid went to college after this photo was taken. He fell in love, got engaged, and then…
Destroyed his life.
My heart breaks now that I know his face. I close my eyes as the rain begins again, the sky crying with me.
Knowing Ash is going to be back any minute, I dry my eyes, blinking several times to staunch the flow of the tears, and take a deep breath.
By the time Ash returns, I’ve regained control of myself.
“I thought it was letting up,” he says when he steps into the living room, soaking wet. “But it must have been a lull in the storm.”
Ash strips off his waistcoat, looking around the space like he doesn’t know what to do with the saturated garment. His white shirt is plastered against his skin, showing off muscles he’s been hiding under his fussy old-money, high fae clothing.
His hair drips, and his feet are already bare. He must have left his shoes and socks by the door.
I want nothing more than to spend the evening curled up on this man’s couch. Fleetingly, I imagine crossing the space and smiling up at him, wiping the rainwater from his temple and peeling off his soggy shirt. But I’m not that bold. Or if I am, I’m not in the right mood.
I’m melancholy, worrying about a man who hasn’t been a man for seven years.
“Are you all right?” Ash asks, noticing.
I’m not sure how to answer. If I tell him what’s bothering me, he might misunderstand my concern. His and Rowan’s relationship is rocky at best.
And I like Ash. I don’t want to upset him. I certainly don’t want him angry with me because I’m crying for a different man.
So, I do what I do best—I force a smile. No one wants a sad summer pixie, especially not a man who just told me he missed my sunshine.
It must be believable, because the concern leaves his eyes. He sweeps his gaze over my face, his expression…inviting. “I’m going to change, and then I’ll be back, all right?” He nods to his couch. “Do you want to watch a movie? I made soup yesterday that I can heat on the stove.”
“I’d like that.”
With a promising smile, he leaves the room, disappearing down a hall to the right.
I exhale, telling myself to cheer up. Rowan’s been an owl for years now. Just because I’m finally coming to terms with it means nothing.
But I think of him alone in the house, standing on a romance novel he doesn’t want to read, bored and lonely.
Stop.
Rowan isn’t my problem.
Except…he is.
Laverna left him in my care, and I agreed to her terms when I accepted her money and cottage.
As soon as Ash returns to the room, I walk up to him, looping my arms around my waist. “I think I should go.”
He frowns down at me. “If this is about a stupid plant, I’ll buy one.”
I smile. “No, this is about Laverna.”
His eyes narrow. “And by that, you mean Rowan.”
“I need to turn him back, Ash. The guilt is starting to eat at me.”
“What guilt?”
“That I’m here, with you…and he’s stuck at home with only a wooden swing for entertainment. He must be going out of his mind.”
“He made his bed.”
“He did. But for whatever reason, Laverna chose me to help him out of it.”
Ash sighs. “I don’t like it.”
“I know,” I say gently, hoping acknowledging it will at least help a little.
He steps back, nodding toward the door. “Go on then.”
I hesitate, torn between duty and pleasure.
“I expect you’ll be at your shop tomorrow?” he asks when he sees me lingering.
“I will.”
“Good.” He leans down, brushing a chaste kiss over my lips. “I’ll see you then.”
And because I’m pathetic, I ask, “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” he says on a sigh. “I’m irritated with Laverna—and partially angry with myself for not striking the bird mess out of the will when she wasn’t looking.”
“That would have been illegal,” I point out.
He shrugs, but I know he wouldn’t have done it. I mean, I don’t think he would have. High fae can be unpredictable.
“Do you want a ride back to your house?” he asks.
“You just tucked your horse into his cozy barn. I’m not that cruel.”
Ash slides his hands into his trouser pockets, looking a little bereft, and watches me leave. I almost go back to him, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll never leave.
With a sigh, I step out the front door.
The storm is already letting up again, confirming I brought on that second downpour. But it’s still raining. I run down the gravel street, my clothes damp by the time I reach the gate.
I hurry past the wet flowers, promising myself I’ll give the garden attention soon, and step into the cottage, kicking off my muddy shoes as soon as I’m inside.
Chester greets me as usual, and then Rowan flies into the room, landing on his swing. “What are you doing back already?”
“I had an idea.”
“What kind of idea?” he asks warily.
“Follow me.” I wave my hand, going down the hall, inviting him into my bedroom.
He lands on the worn hardwood floor just outside it. “I can’t go in your room.”
I shoot him a look as I open my nightstand drawer. “Why?”
“Because I’m a man. And you’re…well, you’re a pixie, not really a woman. But the principle holds.”
“Well, you’re an owl, not really a man. So, I think it’s fine.”
Reluctantly, he flies inside and lands on the bed’s footboard. “What are you looking for?”
“My e-reader.”
“What for?”
I locate the device easily, but the stylus is proving difficult. Finally, I find it, and then I hold them up, victorious. “For you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know, come on.” I leave the room, heading toward the kitchen.
“If you were only going to be in there for a minute, why make me follow you?”
I ignore him and set the e-reader on the table. “It’s designed to recognize a finger swipe, and you obviously don’t have one of those.”
“No kidding.”
“But I think you should be able to hold the stylus in one of your talons. Hop over here and give it a try.”
Rowan leaves his perch, humoring me, and awkwardly grasps the stylus with his little foot—almost falling over in the process.
“Okay, that’s not going to work. Maybe you can hold it in your beak?”
The owl drops the stylus on the table, glaring at me, unblinking.
When I see he’s going to be stubborn, I say, “I’ll have you know, I could be making out with Ash on his very soft couch right now. The least you can do is humor me.”
The owl makes a rude retching noise.
“If you hack up an owl pellet on the table, I will evict you.”
He chuckles and then leans over, picking up the stylus in his beak.
“Good! Now, see if you can turn on the device. Give it a tap.”
“I do know how to use a touch screen,” he grouses, his words clear despite the stylus thanks to his amulet.
“Good for you. Get on with it then.”
He turns it on, and numbers come up, requesting a passcode.
“Oh, that might be difficult,” I say. “Do you think you can type numbers?”
“Maybe with practice,” he says, but he sounds doubtful. He is wielding a stylus with his beak after all.
“I’ll set it to something easy.” I pick up the device and unlock it. “Six numbers all in a row. But for now, I’ll just open it for you.”
“Kit—”
“Shh,” I say, cutting him off. “Okay, go to my library. There are hundreds of books in there, all of which you’ll hate.
But I don’t care if you buy books. Buy all the books you want—put Laverna’s allowance to good use.
I’ll even see if I can buy a little stand so you can read from your perch. What do you think?”
Rowan sets the stylus down, looking resigned. “You’re annoyingly helpful.”
I grin, deciding that’s high praise. “Does that mean you like it?”
“Yes,” he admits. “I do.”
“Does that also mean you’ll be happy all evening, and I can go back to Ash’s without feeling guilty about you being over here all sad and alone?”
“No. If I’m going to read, I’ll want tea, and I have no way to make it myself.”
“I think that’s your way of saying you like my company, isn’t it?”
Eyes on the e-reader, he waves me away with his wing. “That’s my way of saying I want tea. I can buy anything I want?”
“Any boring epic fantasy you want.”
“You pegged me wrong. I’m a LitRPG kind of bird.”
I grin to myself as I walk to the cabinet. Tomorrow, I might regret leaving Ash and his couch, but tonight, I’m glad I came home.