Rowan woke to the smell of coffee; it was becoming a comforting scent to her.
It meant Charlie was awake and hadn't left for work yet.
There was gentleness. A quiet about it that calmed her.
Charlie Swan wasn't loud about anything, especially kindness.
Rowan walked downstairs in the warm socks Charlie had gotten her the previous day on the way from home to work. She appreciated it; socks weren't something she wanted to buy from the local thrift store.
She padded into the kitchen and found him turning from the counter with two steaming mismatched mugs full of coffee.
"Heard you got up, thought you might want some."
"Thank you, Charlie." Rowan took the one he offered, with the Forks PD shield logo. They sat at the small kitchen table, the table striped with the dusty sunlight coming through the blinds. Rowan savored the peace; it was a rare gift.
Charlie scratched his cheek, "So you're settling in ok? Room comfortable?"
"It's cozy. I like it."
He huffed out a small laugh, "Can't take much credit, my best friend's wife designed the space when I got it."
"Still...it feels like home." She almost whispered the word, as if afraid it would shatter the hope lodging itself in her chest. It had been almost a week here, and it filled her with a comfort she hadn't felt since before she lost her parents.
Charlie's eyes softened in his own guarded, fatherly way. "Well," his voice was a near whisper too, "You're welcome here as long as you need."
Magic fluttered inside Rowan.
It wasn't romantic, just genuine...affection.
She liked Charlie.
And he liked her.
It was simple and good.
---
By the end of the week, the town had firmly classified her as "Someone New", not just someone drifting through but someone who looked like they were putting down roots.
And Forks never welcomed strangers quietly.
At the diner, Cora leaned in with a knowing smirk, glancing at Charlie with a fond look, "Don't let the rough exterior fool you, man's got the softest heart of us all."
At the grocery store, the cashier squinted at her looking over her dark amber skin, long limbs and her tightly coiled curls. "You kin to the Landrys'? No? Huh? You just got the familiar look."
At the post office, a man she had never met nodded at like the were old friends meeting. "Heard you are helpin' out at the high school. Good on you. Those kids act better around nice people."
Even while at the gas station, when she was out with Charlie doing errands, teenagers eyed her from the aisles with blatant curiosity.
Rowan didn't mind. Curiosity was harmless.
Then she noticed how animals reacted.
A stray cat followed her three block.
A crow landed on the roof of the cruiser every time she approached, its head tilting to the side.
Someone's golden lab dragged its owner across a crosswalk to just sit at Rowan's feet.
And Charlie noticed.
"Animals love you."
Rowan smiled down at the dog, patting it on its head, "Maybe they just know I like them.
But the magic that only grew inside her, with an almost sentience, whispered:
'They sense you, and they aren't afraid.'
---
On Saturday night, Rowan insisted on cooking dinner for Charlie. She decided to make her mother's fried chicken and her father's kimchi rice. She had been prepping the cabbage for the kimchi after work since Tuesday.
Charlie only tried to argue once but it only took one look at her prepared kimchi and her determined look for him to give up.
She cooked with enthusiasm, humming as she battered the chicken, seasoning by memory and intuition. Her magic flickered occasionally, sinking into the kitchen walls making them glow slightly golden.
Charlie sat at the dining table reading over case notes, but he'd look up sometimes - eyes soft and an unreadable expression on his face.
And when she finally set the table and watched with eagerness as he took his first bite of the rice, nodding along, eyes widening from the zing of the kimchi before taking a sip of beer... then taking a bite of fried chicken. "Whoa..."
"Is it too much?"
"No..." He coughed, eyes watering slightly, "No, it's great. Just wasn't expecting...the spices."
Rowan laughed, relieved, "I'll tone it down next time."
Charlie shook his head, taking another bite and nodding his head. "Don't."
She blinked.
Charlie didn't look up, his head bowed over his chicken, and his voice had a gruff gentleness to it. "This house could use a little flavor."
---
Later, as Rowan washed dishes (which Charlie almost won an argument on until she turned on the sports channel and sat him in front of it with his beer), her magic stirred again.
A gentle tug at her center. It was a soft pull.
She pressed her hand to her sternum, feeling the hum beneath - like distant voices speaking her name in languages older than the Earth. Three voices, to be precise. She shivered.
Charlie glanced over, his brow furrowed as he saw her in the center of the kitchen, still pressed to her chest. "You alright?"
"Yeah." Rowan swallowed, "Just feeling something."
He nodded as if she'd said something perfectly normal.
"You are a sensitive kid," he murmured, "Nothin' wrong with that."
And with that, the tug eased.
Rowan looked at him - this quiet, lonely man who had taken her in, not once questioning her - a wave of gratitude so strong her magic glowed faintly around her.
Charlie didn't see the glow, but he did feel something that he hadn't felt in a long time. His house had a warmth that had nothing to do with the heater, but everything to do with the feeling of it. He'd tell her later, before she went up to bed, that she made the house feel less empty.
And Rowan, pausing on the staircase, would decide to protect this pocket of peace for as long as she could hold onto it.