#mr. ginger

Max gave a small whine at the sudden lack of tummy rubs. “Sorry, sorry, just worried about your master,” [Sterling] soothed the dog, once more running his long fingers through Max’s fur. “Henry won’t say,” sighed Mia, fighting to keep her frustration reined in. “All I know is that both he and Jeric came to me separately a little before the festival and asked that I stop trying to force them to hang out together. Which is stupid—they clearly get along.” Sterling gave a quiet hum at that. Before he could respond, however, the sound of firecrackers erupted from his pocket. Max yelped, bolting from the kitchen. “Shit! Sorry, Maxie!” he called as he quickly pulled his phone out. “Callie?” guessed Mia. “Yep!” he said, his smile illuminating his entire face. Yoba, Mia hoped one day Har— she could find a man who adored her the way Sterling did Callie. “She’s back at the cottage,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Do you mind if—?” “Go talk to your woman,” Mia laughed, waving a hand at him. Droplets of water fanned across the kitchen. “I’m almost done here anyway.”

“Will my presence bother them?” Sterling asked. He had no desire to upset any spirits. That seemed like a horrible idea. “No. At most, they’ll just not show up,” said Callie as she knelt down. Reaching out with her hand, she brushed it along a scroll that he hadn’t noticed before. It immediately unrolled, startling him. Well, that certainly wasn’t natural. “Ah, here we go,” she said softly to herself. Sterling felt royally confused. “This is the final offering needed to complete this scroll. I… I’m unsure what exactly you’ll see. For me, when I’ve done this before, the world fades to white. I commune with the Junimos, strengthening our bond, and when I finally can see again, the room is fixed.” Her dark eyes peered at him worriedly. “If you’d rather stay in one of the other rooms during this, I wouldn’t blame you.” And miss out on seeing the Junimos? Experiencing magic? Fuck that. “If you don’t mind my being here, then I’d rather stay,” he told her.

“I’m… I’m worried.” “About?” “Shane.” Mr. Ginger paused in his bath once more, his leg still up in the air. “Why? The meathead has been rather quiet of late.” “That’s why,” answered Callie, watching Cuthbert as the gray cat continued batting the jingle ball around the room. “His best friend just cut off contact with him, and instead of seeming upset, he’s… he’s remarkably laid back about the whole thing. He isn’t hiding in his room drinking, he isn’t lashing out at anyone. If anything, Marnie was saying he seems focused, like he finally has a plan.” Getting up, Mr. Ginger stretched his front legs and claws out before ambling over to Callie and hopping up into her lap. “Maybe your mate parting ways with him just gave him a needed wake-up call.” “Maybe,” she said doubtfully as she began petting him. Or maybe she was just upset because he hadn’t reacted how she expected? Was she trying to find drama, cause drama where none existed?