Heartsong (Green Creek 3)

It was grass.

And lake water.

And sunshine.

I lifted the shirt and brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply.

My chest ached. It was there. Faint, but mixed in with all the other scents.

And it fit. It mingled. It complemented.

Somehow, it—and I—fit with all of them.

I thought I was spinning out of control.

Jessie wasn’t outside the door when I came out.

I heard her laughing in the kitchen at something Elizabeth had said. I pulled at my shirt. Jessie was right. I was bigger. The shirt was too tight in my chest and arms. The buttons were straining.

I looked out the window to the front of the house. There were multiple cars parked in the driveway. The blue house sat behind them, the windows open. Rico and Tanner stood near the porch. Tanner said my name, and Rico turned to look at me through the window.

He frowned before shaking his head. Tanner put an arm on his shoulder, but he brushed it off.

I didn’t want to give Rico a reason to shoot me, so I turned away from the window and walked toward the kitchen.

I was cautious. Careful. I stood in the doorway. Elizabeth had to know I was there, even though her back was to me. Jessie too, probably. She wasn’t like any other human I’d met. She moved like a wolf.

Elizabeth stood at the sink, peeling potatoes.

A radio sat on the windowsill above the sink. It was old-fashioned, the dial lit up in a bright yellow light. Tammy Wynette was crooning about how she was going to stand by her man. Elizabeth was singing along, her voice quiet and melodic.

Jessie stood in front of the large stove. There were four pots on four different burners, and they were bubbling. It smelled wonderful. I was ravenous.

I didn’t know what to do.

I waited.

Tammy sang, aching and sweet.

Elizabeth swayed back and forth, her summer dress billowing around her legs.

It struck me then just how much I wanted this. It was sudden and fierce. I wanted this. Here. With them. In this place so very far from all I thought I knew.

I didn’t deserve it.

My heart hurt.

“You know,” Elizabeth said suddenly, “my mother told me once that a watched pot never boils. I always found that fascinating, because it does, eventually, whether you’re looking at it or not. Robbie, if you please.”

I swallowed thickly.

She took a step to the left, motioning me to join her in front of the sink. She didn’t look at me.

I thought she was giving me a choice.

There was no hose in sight.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen.