Leo keeps a straight face. “Try singing them love songs.”
“What, like Taylor Swift?”
He taps his chin like he’s seriously considering this. “No,” he finally says. “Too much feminine rage.”
I crack into a laugh and he smiles broadly back at me.
“Plants are sensitive to energy, Betts.” He takes my closest hand and squeezes it. “Just like you.”
An hour later, as Leo and I are bundling up for the walk to Newberry, Avery gasps and leaps from the couch. “Hold on, witchling.” She grabs the Tarot deck off the coffee table and thrusts it at me. “Learn them.”
“But don’t you need them?”
She snorts. “I have eleven different decks. I can do without this one for a while.”
“Well then, thank you.” I slide the box into my jacket pocket and give it a pat. It’ll be nice to have something to focus on over winter break besides food and presents.
Leo and I walk at a sharp clip as flurries dance in the light of the street lamps. Avery’s cider keeps my insides warm, but my cheeks and ears are stinging in the wind.
Leo holds out an arm. “Come here.”
I want his warmth, but I hesitate. What if someone who knows me sees us?
“We’re friends, Betts. Friends who are cold.” He shivers theatrically.
Good point. I’d cuddle with Liv to keep warm, so why not Leo?
Because I’m a chicken-shit afraid of conflict, that’s why.
Screw it. It’s freezing out here.
I merge into Leo and snuggle under his arm. How is it this man is always so warm? Naturally, our pace slows, but I’m so content I can’t be bothered to care. There’s hardly anyone about, and my worries of being spotted fade away. It’s only me and Leo and a beautiful, wintry night.
As we approach Newberry Hall, he comes to a stop in a pool of lamplight. “I don’t think I’ll be able to see you until we get back from the break.”
This is something I assumed, but hearing it spoken aloud casts a cloud over me. “I know.” Nearly a month with no Leo. No grounding presence, no gentle voice, no steady hands.
Suddenly, impulsively, he shoves a hand into his interior coat pocket. “I got you something.”
“What?” I blink up at him. “But…”
He cuts me off with a shake of his head and pushes something into my cold hands.
An old book.
Anne of Green Gables.
“I’m keeping your copy,” he says. “So consider us even.”
This is no cheap thrift store find; this book feels precious. I open the cover and choke on my breath. “This is a first edition.” I look up to find him watching me intently.
“I know. And if anyone should have it, it should be you.”
I caress the yellowed pages like they’re made of lotus silk. There’s something tucked between them, something sparkly attached to a small card. I raise questioning eyes to Leo.
“Yeah, that.” He shifts his weight and stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “When I saw it, I thought of you. And in a moment of weakness, I bought it.”
The something sparkly is a silver bobby pin, decorated with a rhinestone faerie.
