Magical Musing (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #2)

Chapter Twelve

Keegan’s eyes locked on mine, and the room felt smaller like the walls had crept inward a few feet, pressing us together with nothing but the faint resilience of magic and the soft ticking of the old clock on the side table.

His gaze was steady, sharp as always, but beneath the usual guarded steel, there was something softer—an ache or a question he wasn’t ready to ask.

Which was good because I didn’t think I was ready to answer.

My heart gave a traitorous little flutter, one I promptly brushed aside like an annoying gnat. This wasn’t the time for feelings I couldn’t afford to explore. Not when the weight of curses, lost time, and unspoken fears hung between us like cobwebs.

Not to mention my daughter.

I tore my gaze away, pretending to be suddenly fascinated by the grain of the wooden floor beneath my socks. The moment stretched until Keegan cleared his throat, the sound low and rough in the quiet.

“Anyway, I came over to say thank you,” he said, his voice softer than usual, lacking its usual edge of sarcasm or gruff dismissal.

I glanced up, startled—not by his words but by the vulnerability threaded through them, delicate and rare.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable in his own skin.

“For being there,” he continued. “When I was… like that.”

Like that.

The image of him, half-shifted and broken, flashed in my mind—his body caught between worlds, fighting against a curse written into his very bones. The growls, the fevered glint in his eyes, the agony carved into every strained line of his face.

“I’d hoped you’d never see me that way. I’d hoped you’d never find out,” he added quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor, shoulders tense. “But I’m glad you came.”

My chest tightened, peace blooming despite the heaviness of his words.

“Keegan,” I said softly, stepping closer. He looked up, and there it was again—that pull, like an invisible thread tying me to him, taut and humming with something I couldn’t understand.

I swallowed hard. “I want to be there for you. Like you’ve been there for me. Even if it’s been from a distance.”

His eyes softened, the tension in his jaw easing just enough to let a breath of vulnerability slip through. He gave a slight nod, the movement almost imperceptible, but it carried more weight than any words ever could have.

That flutter returned, persistent and unwelcome, and I forced myself to ignore it.

He stood as the space between us suddenly felt charged.

Keegan didn’t step closer, didn’t reach for me, but his presence was enough to make my pulse stumble.

“Thank you,” he said again, his voice rougher now like the words scraped against something raw on their way out.

I nodded as my heart lodged somewhere between my ribs and my throat.

The urge to reach out, to touch his hand or arm, was overwhelming, but I didn’t move.

Instead, I did something far more reckless.

“I promise we’ll stop the curse before the next one,” I said, the words spilling out before I could catch them, bold and foolish and full of hope I wasn’t sure I could sustain.

Keegan’s gaze met mine, something flickering there.

Gratitude? Maybe.

Disbelief? More likely.

His mouth curved into the faintest hint of a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

But it was too late.

I’d already made it.

And the terrifying thing was that I wanted to keep it.

Even if I didn’t know how.

I could feel the weight of my promise hanging in the air, pressing against my chest like an invisible hand. But I didn’t back down. I couldn’t.

“I believe in my heart that we can stop it.”

Keegan studied me for a moment longer, then gave a slight nod.

“Goodnight, Maeve,” he said quietly, turning toward the door.

I watched him go, and my heart still raced as my promise echoed in my head.

And for the first time, I realized that saving Stonewick wasn’t just about breaking the curse.

It was about saving him, too.

The door had barely settled on its hinges after Keegan’s quiet exit when the weight of my thoughts came crashing down.

The flickering light from the small lamp on the end table seemed too bright in contrast to the dark storm brewing in my chest.

I stared at the space where he’d stood, his words—or lack thereof—lingering in the air like an unfinished sentence toying with the promise he didn’t think I could keep.

Maybe it was the timing or the conversation, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that now was the moment to say it. To bring it up before I let fear talk me out of it. The clock’s soft ticking nudged me forward as if even time was impatient.

I opened the door just as Keegan reached the bottom step of my porch. “Keegan, wait.”

He turned slowly, his silhouette sharp against the darkening sky. The faint glow from my porch light caught the edge of his face, casting shadows under his strong jawline and highlighting the tension already settling in his posture. His expression was unreadable, which was becoming his signature move.

“I, uh…” I stepped out, folding my arms across my chest—not because of the cold, but because it felt like armor against the vulnerability I was about to spill. “I wanted to tell you something.”

He waited silently with a steady gaze.

“I’m going to see Celeste before she leaves for her ski trip.”

That did it.

His entire body froze. The faint shift of his weight paused mid-motion.

I’d hit a nerve.

Keegan didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes darkened, reflecting the porch light like shards of amber glass.

“How?” His voice was low and careful.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, ignoring the sudden urge to justify myself before I’d even explained.

“I was planning to meet her for lunch. Somewhere between here and there.”

Silence.

The air turned heavy and awkward.

I could feel the heat rising in my chest—not from anger, but from the raw need to defend something I didn’t think should require defending.

Keegan didn’t say anything. He just nodded once, curt and stiff, his face a mask carved from stone. All the walls went back up just like that.

But that was the thing about Keegan. I’d learned to read the silence between his words as clearly as the words themselves.

And right now, his silence was screaming and throwing a tantrum.

“I can’t not see her,” I blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s Christmas, Keegan. There’s already been too much time. I feel like life—my life outside of all of this—is slipping away a little. Like if I don’t hold onto it, it’ll disappear. She can’t disappear.”

I didn’t expect a grand speech from him. That wasn’t his style. But I thought he’d say something more than just nodding again. His shoulders rose with a deep breath, but when he exhaled, it was like he was letting go of something I couldn’t see.

“I get it,” he finally muttered.

But he didn’t.

Not really.

Because if he did, he wouldn’t look at me like I was walking into something dangerous and acting like I didn’t know it.

I could feel his disapproval radiating off him—that quiet, simmering frustration he wouldn’t name, bottled up and buried under layers of duty and restraint.

I knew that look.

I sighed. “Just say it.”

“It’s not safe.” He didn’t turn to face me.

I frowned. “You think I don’t know that?”

“You’re leaving Stonewick.” He finally faced me. “You’re stepping out from under the protection of this town, the Academy. Gideon’s been searching for an opening and any sign of weakness. And you walking right into the outside world? That’s a flashing beacon saying come and get me. I dare you .”

I crossed my arms, meeting his stare head-on.

“I refuse to be a prisoner in the same place that gave me freedom.”

His expression didn’t shift. “It’s not about keeping you locked away. It’s about keeping you alive.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head.

“Keegan, I get it. I do. But I can’t just—” I motioned around the room. “—stay here, waiting for the next disaster. I have a life outside of all this. A daughter. And I’m not about to let fear—or Gideon—take that away from me.”

His gaze stayed locked on mine. “You’re more valuable to this fight than you understand.”

The weight of his words pressed into me, thick and undeniable.

“Especially now,” he continued. “You made a vow to the Academy, Maeve. You’re critical to it reopening. You think it let you in by accident?” He shook his head. “If something happens to you—if Gideon takes you out—who knows when the next chance will come? If ever.”

Guilt curled around my ribs.

I swallowed hard, and my resolve flickered for just a moment.

But then I straightened my shoulders. After all, I was a forty-five-year-old woman who knew exactly what she didn’t want in this life, and it was to cower in fear or let some mysterious man control my life. I wouldn’t give that power to Gideon.

Keegan knew better. He wouldn’t make me do something I didn’t want, but letting Gideon keep me in Stonewick gave something away I couldn’t get back.

Time with Celeste.

“I hear you, Keegan. I do. And I won’t pretend this isn’t dangerous. But Celeste is my daughter. And that bond? It’s unbreakable. She’s the most important thing in my life.”

“That’s exactly what makes you vulnerable.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he beat me to it.

“You don’t think Gideon knows that? He’s going to use every advantage he can find. And your love for Celeste? It’s not just your strength. It’s a weakness he can exploit. Your biggest weakness.”

His words sliced through me, but I didn’t flinch.

“Then I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t get the chance.”

His jaw twisted like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t.

Silence settled between us.

Then he exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair.

“Dammit, Maeve.”

I managed a small, tired smile. “That’s the spirit.”

He didn’t smile back. “Just… be careful.”

I nodded. “I will.”

Keegan stared at me a moment longer, and without another word, he turned and walked away.

“Keegan—”

His broad back retreated into the night, footsteps crunching softly against the thick layer of snow. He didn’t leave with anything dramatic.

Just… walked away.

I stood there for a long moment, watching my breath fogging in the cold, watching until his taillights disappeared down my drive.

The chill finally crept through my sweater, seeping into my skin, but it wasn’t enough to shake the knot tangled in my chest.

Closing the door felt like admitting defeat.

The last thing I wanted to do was upset Keegan.

Inside, the house was too quiet.

Frank snored softly from his spot near the fire, utterly unbothered by the emotional hurricane that had just passed through.

Before I knew it, Twobble walked in through the front door.

I chuckled and shook my head. “Were you just lurking and waiting for the moment he’d leave?”

“Something like that.” Twobble grinned. “What else do I have to do at this time of night?”

“Well,” I muttered to no one in particular, “that went… well.”

Twobble huffed but didn’t comment, which was rare. Even he knew when to keep his snark tucked away.

I sank into the worn chair by the window, staring into the darkness.

My mind raced with everything I didn’t say.

Keegan’s reaction—or lack thereof—felt like unfinished business, a conversation paused mid-sentence with no promise of being resumed.

And I hated unfinished business. It was why I filed for divorce so quickly. Once I saw Alex’s true colors, that was it for me.

With Keegan, however…

He was right.

But it wasn’t as simple as a black-and-white issue.

I needed to see my daughter. No magical curse, looming shadow threats, or brooding guardians with their silent disapproval would change that.

The world outside Stonewick was still spinning, moving forward without me, and Celeste was part of that world. I wasn’t ready to let go of it, not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Besides, Keegan’s ability to shift from open to distant was so swift that it gave me emotional whiplash. One minute, he stood in my kitchen with that rare softness in his eyes, the kind that made my heart trip over itself. The next, he was back to brooding like it was his full-time job, and he was gunning for employee of the year.

It was like flipping a switch—one I couldn’t access.

The way his eyes darkened when I mentioned Celeste looped in my mind like an annoying song I couldn’t turn off.

It shouldn’t have bothered me this much.

But it did.

Because underneath all that stoic silence, there was something more—a tension threaded between us like an invisible wire, pulling tight every time we got too close to unraveling it.

And yet, despite the mess of feelings swirling in the pit of my stomach, I knew exactly what I had to do.

I had to see Celeste.

She was my daughter.

Time had already been slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. First, it was the shock of discovering the Academy, then the labyrinth of magic and curses, and somewhere along the way, weeks had disappeared without me realizing it.

The thought of missing another moment with Celeste twisted something sharp and hollow inside me.

She wasn’t a baby anymore. She didn’t need me the way she used to when she had scraped knees or late-night nightmares.

But I needed her. I needed to see her face, hear her laugh, and remind myself that not every part of my life was wrapped up in shadowy threats and ancient curses.

Maybe Keegan thought it was reckless.

Perhaps he was right.

But this wasn’t about magic or safety or curses.

This was about my heart.

And hearts didn’t operate on logic or strategy. They beat to their rhythm, even when it made no sense.

Twobble peeked around a stack of books, his glowing eyes narrowing like he was waiting for me to make a decision.

And that’s when it hit me. Gideon didn’t operate on logic or strategy all those decades ago. He had acted irrationally because his heart threw him in that direction. But the course had been set, and it was up to us to stop it before it was too late.