Chapter 11
Rowan was sitting on the bed when I came back, one elbow propped on his knee, hair tousled, expression dangerous.
“He hypnotized me again,” he said darkly. “Tomorrow I’m turning him into soup.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then he stood, took my hand, and pulled me toward the new bath he had built in the yard.
“You smell like him,” he complained. “Come wash.”
His tone was sour, but his hands were gentle.
That was Rowan all over.
The next morning, Adrian did not come.
Or the next.
Or the next.
For a while I almost thought maybe he had finally gotten a grip on himself.
Then Nora visited again, and while she was talking my eyes drifted toward the neighboring house.
No sign of the white wolf.
No sign of Adrian.
Just silence.
A strange silence.
That night, while Rowan held me in bed, I found myself listening for the old sounds. Water. Movement. The barely there noise of somebody lingering outside who was too stubborn to leave and too proud to knock.
Nothing.
Days slid by.
I should have settled happily into peace.
Instead, the quiet felt like a missing tooth I could not stop touching with my tongue.
Then one afternoon, while Rowan was out, the front gate creaked open and Adrian came in openly for the first time in his real form.
No wolf disguise.
No white ears.
No pretending.
He stood in the sunlight with his shirt half buttoned, hair loose, eyes wary.
I folded my arms.
He swallowed.
“I washed,” he said.
Of all the opening lines he could have chosen, that was the one.
I burst out laughing so hard I had to lean against the porch post.
His ears turned red.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then took a breath.
“I can support myself. And you. I know how to use my voice properly now. I’ve been earning money in town. That house next door is mine. I came back because… because I want to stay. For real this time. And I won’t keep secrets anymore.”
That last part mattered more than the rest.
I sobered slowly.
“Rowan stays,” I said.
Adrian’s jaw tightened instantly.
I held up a hand.
“Before you start crying, listen. Rowan chose me when I was hurt and confused. He took care of me. He didn’t play games. So if you want back into my life, it’s not by pushing him out.”
Adrian looked like every word physically injured him.
But to my surprise, after a long struggle, he nodded.
“I hate it,” he said honestly. “But… fine.”
The comments floated by.
Growth.
Tiny, painful, but real.
Maybe he can learn.
I stepped closer.
“Then there are conditions.”
His eyes snapped to mine, alert.
“No more disappearing.”
He nodded.
“No more lying by omission.”
Another nod.
“And if you’re upset, use your mouth. Words. Normal ones.”
He looked slightly offended by that, which told me it had been necessary.
“Fine.”
I was still about to add more when Rowan came through the gate carrying produce and stopped dead.
His gaze took in Adrian, then me, then Adrian again.
The silence was thick enough to chew.
At last Rowan sighed.
“So the fish survived.”
Adrian bristled immediately. “Unlike some people, I never pretended to be a house pet.”
“And unlike some people,” Rowan replied silkily, “I didn’t move in and act like communication was a luxury.”
I stepped between them before one of them lost sense.
“Enough.”
They both looked at me.
And there it was.
The thing I had apparently done to my own life.
One dramatic siren.
One sly fox.
Both looking at me like I held the answer to every question that mattered.
I put my hands on my hips.
“If either of you makes me regret this,” I said, “you can both sleep in the yard.”
That night was tense.
No yelling.
No fighting.
Just a strange, brittle politeness while Rowan cooked and Adrian sat on the far side of the room pretending not to stare holes in him.
But when I went to bed, I was not alone.
And for the first time, I realized maybe that did not have to be a disaster.
Maybe it could just be… my life.
A weird one.
A complicated one.
But mine.