I SET HIM TO WORK ON a necklace for his dad, telling him to knot the thread after every added bead. When I reminded him for the fifth time, he told me to shut up and insisted his intelligence didn’t match how dumb he looked.
Zipping it, I checked on the ink solution. After giving it a stir, I poured it through the sieve into a second jug, taking it to the table with me as I went across to sit.
Ethan’s gaze lifted a touch. “What’s that?”
“Ink I made.”
He nodded and continued his task, and I slid a sheet of parchment from the protective sleeve and picked up my quill. Five letters across, five down, Jess had said, until the words formed a square.
“Okay,” I murmured and began to write.
Ethan paused in his handy work. His eyes followed the scratch of the quill, to its dip in the ink and b
