Page 21 of Wild Thorns

"Or maybe I'm trading one obsession for another."

"Also possible. But at least this obsession comes with pie."

I hung up and went to bed.

But I lay awake for a long time, listening to the night sounds of Magnolia Creek. Thinking about threads, energy, and connections. About the way Callum Voss looked at me like I was already his. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Outside my window, the magnolia tree stood silver in the moonlight. Beyond it, the preserve was dark and quiet.

And somewhere in that darkness, I heard howling.

It rose and fell through the trees, that coordinated sound I'd been hearing since my first night here. Three voices, I thought. Three distinct tones weaving together into something that sounded almost like music.

Almost like a language.

I pressed my hand against the window glass, feeling the cool night through my fingertips.

What are you? I thought, not sure who I was asking. What is this place? What's happening to me?

The howling faded into silence. The preserve settled back into darkness.

But I could have sworn, just before I finally fell asleep, that I heard an answer. Not in words. In feeling. A warmth that spread through my chest, a sense of being seen, being known, being claimed.

I should have been afraid.

I wasn't.

When I woke the next morning, there was a white magnolia blossom on my porch railing. Perfect, fresh, still wet with dew.

And fuck, I wanted to know who had put it there.

Chapter seven

Festival Flames

"You're coming to the festival, right?"

Jasper had appeared at my door again, this time with coffee instead of pie, steam curling from two cups balanced in one hand. His grin suggested he already knew the answer, or at least knew what the answer was going to become.

"What festival?"

"The Magnolia Creek Founder's Festival. Happens every year, first weekend of June." He leaned against my doorframe, casual in a way that highlighted how his shoulders filled the space, how the morning light caught the gold flecks in his amber eyes. "Food, music, fireworks. Best ribs in three parishes. Games that are definitely rigged but in an endearing way. General small-town chaos."

"That sounds..."

"Amazing? Life-changing? Like exactly what you need?"

"Loud."

"Also, yes." He handed me one of the cups, his fingers brushing mine in a way that sent warmth up my arm. That same electric hum I felt whenever any of them touched me, like static before a storm. "Come anyway. Lila's going to drag you if I don't. At least this way you'll have a guide who knows where all the good stuff is."

"Is this you asking me on a date?"

"This is me saying you should experience the festival. With me. As your dedicated guide." His eyes sparkled; that mischief I was learning to recognize dancing beneath the surface. "If that happens to involve spending several hours together eating delicious food and watching terrible local theater, well. That's just coincidence."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm very persuasive. Ask anyone."