“Looks like you got a chance to talk to him a little?” Livy said. She and Skye stood on the small concrete front porch, watching Kit and Grady stroll back to the truck.
Skye shivered. The cold outdoor air seemed to invade her body now that he’d left. “A little.”
“Nice enough guy. I hope he’ll like it, a job doing something he enjoys, even if it’s just temporary.”
Skye shrugged, distracted. She felt the pull of the forest behind her, hated it and longed for it.
“I think he likes you.” Livy smiled as she watched the truck drive away. “Could hardly take his eyes off you.”
Skye’s eyes filled with tears, her misery uncontainable.
Livy glanced at her, and the smile quickly changed to a look of concern. “Hey, what, what’s wrong?”
Skye flopped her hand up and down herself, and ended with a hopeless flourish that pointed back toward the woods. “This.”
Livy wrapped an arm around her, and guided her back into the warm house. “I know. It sucks, not being able to talk to people as easily as you used to. But you will again. I know it. You’re a strong woman, babe.”
In the front hall, Skye sniffled and nodded in acceptance.
Livy patted Skye’s shoulder. “How about some chai?”
Skye nodded again. While Livy slipped into the kitchen, Skye wandered across to the back pantry, rested her forehead against the window in the door, and gazed out at the dark treetops.
Grady did seem nice, genuinely so, which tortured her even more. He will follow you. She had thrown out a magical hook and ensnared him without thinking of the consequences. She ought to send him away, keep him at a distance, for his own good. But he probably wouldn’t go, thanks to the spell that had infected him; and in any case, the magic was working on her too. Just as she longed for the forest out of all proportion, she now longed for him as well, her chosen mate.
She was ruining his life, yet she couldn’t bear to let him go. She closed her eyes. She’d thought the spell couldn’t get any worse, but it already had.
Kit had wanted to ask her. God, how tempting it had been to beckon Skye aside and just say those few words: “Hey listen, did goblins have anything to do with this?”
But seven years’ worth of keeping this liaison business a secret was too heavy a roadblock to shift. If she wasn’t enchanted—which, odds were, she wasn’t—he’d sound crazy if he asked that. And then she’d tell her lovely, hot sister how insane he was, and he’d never get to enjoy milkshakes or anything else with Livy again. Word might even get out to the rest of the town: what was up with Sylvain, talking about goblins or some shit? Losing his mind like his parents, real shame. Yeah, no. He couldn’t ask.
Besides, if she was under a spell, there was nothing he could do about it. No method existed for humans to counter goblin magic, or at least none that he or his unlucky ancestors had ever heard of. So, really, he prayed it was ordinary depression, much as depression sucked.
Maybe it was, and maybe Grady was about to turn everything around for Skye, just by virtue of being himself, with his good nature and mad cooking skills.
If Grady was honestly up for it.
“Sure you want to do this, bro?” Kit asked him as they drove across the one-lane bridge to Crabapple Island.
Grady gazed out the side window. Bridge railings blurred past. Behind them rippled the expanse of silver-gray water separating the island from the rest of town.
Kit’s question seemed to register a few seconds late. “Yeah, of course,” Grady said, his eyes still on the water.
“She’s pretty,” Kit admitted. “I just wonder if, I don’t know, she needs more help than you can give. She seemed really…withdrawn. Especially compared to how happy and talkative I remember her being in school.”
“She talked to me a little.”
“Well. Good.” They came off the bridge and curved onto the loop road. Tall conifers took over, interrupted by the occasional mailbox. “Anyway,” Kit said, “it’s not like helping her is totally down to you. Livy did say she was getting counseling. This is just more like hanging out with her. And feeding her kale or whatever so she’s healthier.”
Grady finally looked at him. “So she wasn’t like this till recently?”
“Yeah, Livy says it came on suddenly, a month or so ago.”
“Caused by what?”
“No one’s sure. Guess it’s not like her at all.” Kit pulled the truck into the rutted gravel drive that led to his house.
“Huh.” The cabin came into view, with its asymmetrically sloped roof and the sprawling mess of sculptures-in-progress in the yard. “I wonder if something happened.”
Kit parked the truck, and frowned out the windshield. “Let me know if you find out.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GRADY SET HIS ALARM FOR 7:30 THE NEXT MORNING, AND AFTER A SHOWER AND BREAKFAST, HOPPED IN HIS OLD Jeep Cherokee and drove up to Quilcene to buy groceries. While he poured his nervous energy into selecting the nicest-looking produce, his phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID: Mom. He answered, “Hey,” and tucked the phone against his shoulder while he bagged some bell peppers.
“Hello, Grady.” She sounded upbeat. “Now what’s this about a cooking job?”
He smiled. He’d left his older brother a text about it late last night, knowing that would be all it took to spread the word to both parents and every one of his siblings. “It’s nothing much. Just some part-time cooking at home for two women in town.”
“Old ladies? Doesn’t sound like the kind of thing old ladies would hire someone for.”
He wheeled the cart along and inspected the tomatoes. “Actually no, they’re in their twenties. Two sisters.”
“Oh! Well, even better. What are you going to cook for them?”
“For today, I’m thinking something that’ll work as lunch and also leftovers for dinner. I’ll bring recipes they can choose between, with ingredients that’ll work for both. I’m in Quilcene getting the groceries right now.”
“Is Quilcene the one that has the good store?”
“Yeah, or at least, nicer stuff than Bellwater.” He picked out four tomatoes. “Bellwater’s store is tiny and it’s all, like, iceberg lettuce and marshmallows and cans of soup.”
“Those poor people. It’s a wonder Kit’s survived this long.”
“That’s what I keep telling him.”
“Any luck on other job leads?”
Grady rolled the cart toward the dry-goods aisle. “Not really. I’m still looking. Getting kind of demoralizing.”
“That’s what job hunts are like, hon. Don’t give up. But if you do want to give up and move home, we would of course be over the moon to have you back. We miss you.”