12. Caroline
Potion for Soothing:
Earl Gray, Chamomile and honey. Drink when the heart is heavy.
Ibarely set the bag of cat food on the kitchen counter before my phone buzzes. Thistle immediately abandons me for the bag, sniffing at it.
“Hello?” My voice comes out rough, scratchy.
“Caroline? It’s June. I hate to call you in, but we’re swamped. There’s been some kind of surge, and Tessa—our new apprentice—is completely flustered. We could really use an extra pair of hands.”
“A surge? Is everything okay?”
“The wards held, but everyone’s coming in for calming draughts and protective charms.” She pauses. “I know you’re probably not feeling great after last night, but…”
“No, no, it’s fine. I can come in.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re a lifesaver.”
We hang up, and I reach for the mug waiting on the kitchen counter. The tea inside is lukewarm now. I take a sip, the familiar blend of chamomile, vervain, and something else—something secret—coating my tongue.
It's the aftercare blend, a special concoction June and August keep stocked for the town's Omegas. It's designed to help us after… well, after getting fucked. It soothes the ache of a knot and helps our bodies process the surge of magic that comes with an Alpha's touch.
And, if the whispers are true, it works a little like Plan B, something to do with the moonwort and the way it interacts with Omega physiology. I've never had to test that particular theory, thank the stars.
Until now.
I can feel my muscles already starting to loosen, the tea working its magic. Thistle stretches, arching his back, then settles back down, his tail twitching.
“You planning on joining me at work today?” I ask, scratching behind his ears.
He opens one yellow eye, gives me a look of pure disdain, then starts licking his paw with meticulous precision.
“I guess I’m on my own.” I laugh, shaking my head. I swear, I buy him the most expensive cat food in town, the kind with real salmon and no fillers, but this familiar has a mind of his own.
I head to the closet, pulling on my work clothes—jeans, a soft gray T-shirt, and my favorite apron, the one with the little pockets for my tools.
My body still aches, a dull throb between my legs, a reminder of last night, of Damon’s hands on my skin, his breath against my neck.
I push the thought away, focusing on the practicalities of getting ready.
In the kitchen, I’m measuring out coffee grounds when a knock echoes through the small house. I wipe my hands on my jeans and hurry to the door, my heart pounding.
I swing it open to find Amara standing there, her hair a wild mess, her eyes blazing.
“Glad you’re not dead,” she says, “because I’m going to kill you.”
My stomach drops. Fuck. She knows. “What? What’s going on?”
She pushes past me into the house, spinning around to face me. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I’ve been calling and texting since last night!”
“I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Busy?” She throws her hands up in frustration. “Well, when were you going to tell me that your ex was in town? Because I’m pretty sure I just saw Griffin as I was driving here.”
Griffin.
The name hits me like a physical blow, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. But then, a wave of relief washes over me, so intense it makes my knees weak. This is about Griff. Not about Damon. Not about the fact that I fucked my best friend’s cousin.
“He seems to be doing okay,” I say, my voice surprisingly even.
“You talked to him?” Amara asks, then winces, pressing a hand to her temple. “Ow. My head’s killing me.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, genuine concern cutting through my relief.
“I’m fine,” she says, waving me off. “Just a bit of a headache. But we can talk about that later. Right now, we need to talk about Griff.”
“We will,” I promise, grabbing my keys from the hook by the door. “But I have to go to work. June needs me at the shop.”
“Seriously?” She groans, flopping onto my couch. “Now?”
I nod, trying to look apologetic. “I made some coffee. You can totally sleep in until I get back.”
“Fine,” she mutters, pulling a throw pillow over her face. “I plan on it.” She peeks out from under the pillow, her eyes narrowed. “How the hell are you so okay, anyway? After everything?”
“I slept a lot,” I say, which isn’t entirely a lie.
“Me too,” she says, her voice muffled by the pillow. “And I still feel like shit.”
“I can brew you something before I go,” I offer. “A headache tincture?”
“I’m okay,” she says, sitting up. “Wait.”
We’re walking back to the kitchen, and I stop, turning to her. “What?”
“You smell weird,” she says, her nose wrinkling.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, my heart starting to pound again.
She steps closer, her eyes narrowed. Then she reaches out, tugging at the collar of my halter neck. “Did you have sex?”
I swallow hard. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You smell like jasmine,” she says. “And something else. Herbs. Like… aftercare tea.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I took aftercare tea.”
“So you had sex?” Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock and excitement. “Was it Griffin? Did you fuck Griffin?”
I shake my head, then nod, then shake my head again. “No. No.”
“But you’re taking aftercare?”
Ah, shit! I have to tell her something. I can’t lie about this one thing. This is a safe thing to share. “Okay, so… I kind of went into heat.”
Amara’s jaw drops. “What? When? Why didn’t you call me?”
“It was… sudden,” I say, my cheeks burning. “I kind of handled it.”
She pulls me into a tight hug, her arms squeezing me hard. “Are you okay? Oh my stars, Caroline, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice muffled against her shoulder. “I took care of it, and then I took the tea to help.”
“Nasty.” Amara smirks, pulling back to look at me. “Did you go sex toy shopping without me?”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up, unexpected and real. “We’re not talking about it.”
“Fine,” she says, a wicked glint in her eye. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“No,” I say, a little too quickly. Because the truth is, I have no toys. No secrets to share. Just the memory of Damon’s hands, his body against mine.
She starts describing hers in vivid detail, and I clamp my hand over her mouth. “Amara! Stop!”
She laughs, pulling my hand away and then pulling me in for another hug. “Are you really okay?” she asks. She sounds concerned.
“I am,” I say, and I’m surprised to find that it’s mostly true. The tea helps, the lie helps, and for now, that’s enough.
“Are you?” I ask, pulling back to look at her.
She nods. “I am.”
“Good,” I say, turning to the cupboard. “I’ll make you some tea, and then you can rest and be okay.”
“Thanks,” she says.
As I measure out the herbs, I swallow the guilt that’s been sitting in my chest like a stone. I hate lying to her, especially about something like this. But how can I tell her the truth? How can I tell her that I spent the night with her cousin, her overprotective, Alpha sheriff cousin?
I just don’t know how.
The water boils, and I pour it over the herbs, the steam rising up, fragrant and familiar.
The bell above the door chimes as I push my way into Foxglove & Finch, and the scent that greets me is overwhelming.
Lavender and sage, cinnamon and clove, something sharp and metallic that smells like ozone after a lightning strike.
The apothecary is packed, bodies pressed close between shelves heavy with jars and bottles.
Even Clive Harper is here, leaning against the counter with his usual too-familiar grin, a stack of boxes at his feet.
“Morning, Caroline,” he calls out, cutting through the chatter. “Missed you around here.”
I force a smile and prepare to lie. “Hey, Clive. I’m glad to be back.”
Behind the counter, a young woman with her hair twisted up in a messy bun looks up, her eyes wide with what looks like equal parts panic and relief. She’s got flour dusted across her nose and a streak of something purple on her cheek.
“Hey,” she says, wiping her hands on her apron. “You must be Caroline. I’m Tessa.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” I say, setting my bag down behind the counter. “Where are June and August?”
“June’s in the back, trying to restock the calming draughts. August is out helping with deliveries.” She gestures to the chaos around us. “It’s been non-stop since dawn. Everyone’s jittery after last night.”
“I bet,” I murmur, my eyes scanning the crowd. “What needs to be done?”
Tessa pulls out a clipboard, her fingers shaking slightly.
“We’ve got about twenty orders for protective charms, a dozen calming draughts, and someone special ordered a dreamless sleep potion for their kid who’s having nightmares about the Rift.
” She bites her lip. “I’ve been trying to keep up, but… ”
“It’s okay,” I say, taking the clipboard from her. “We’ll handle it together.”
She lets out a breath, her shoulders slumping. “Thank you. I was starting to think I’d have to close up shop and hide in the supply closet.”
I laugh, but it comes out hollow. “We’ve all been there.”
We get to work, our movements falling into an easy sync. I measure out dried herbs while Tessa grinds crystals with a mortar and pestle, the sound a steady counterpoint to the chatter of customers. The air hums with magic, a low thrum under my skin that makes my teeth ache.
“Clive’s order is ready,” Tessa says, pushing a small paper bag across the counter. “Just needs sealing.”
I nod, grabbing a stick of wax and a stamp. “I’ll take care of it.”
As I work, my mind drifts back to last night, to Damon’s hands on my skin, his voice in my ear. A flush rises to my cheeks, and I have to shake my head to clear it. This isn’t the time or place.
“Everything okay?” Tessa asks, her brow furrowed with concern.
“Fine,” I say, maybe too quickly. “Just thinking.”
She nods, accepting this without question. “Well, try not to think too hard. We’ve got a lot to get through.”
I force a smile, turning my attention back to the task at hand. But my thoughts keep straying, my body remembering the ache of him, the way he filled me, the way my magic responded to his. It’s been hours and I can still feel him, a ghost of a touch that makes my skin tingle.
I make a mental note to brew a proper Plan B potion when I’m alone tonight.
Something stronger than the aftercare tea, something that will erase any trace of him, any possibility of…
well. Anything. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let him fuck me like that, without protection, without thinking about the consequences.
But in the moment, with the Rift surging and my heat raging, it felt like the only option. The only way to survive.
“Caroline?” Tessa nudges me, pulling me back to the present. “You with me?”
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at the same jar of rose petals for who knows how long. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… tired.”
“June told me that it was all because of the Rift. It messes with your head. Makes it hard to focus.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I mutter, turning back to my work.
The hours pass in a blur of grinding and measuring, of sealing and packaging.
Customers come and go, their faces a mix of fear and relief.
Some thank us profusely, others barely acknowledge our presence before rushing out with their purchases.
Through it all, Tessa and I work side by side, our movements growing more synchronized, more efficient.
“You’re good at this,” she says as we pause for a brief moment to catch our breath. “June and August said you were, but… wow.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” I say, wiping sweat from my brow. “This place has been my second home since I was sixteen.”
“That’s when you got Thistle, right?” she asks, her eyes bright with curiosity. “June seems to be very fond of your familiar.”
I nod, a smile touching my lips. “Yeah. He’s sleek and black and too knowing for his own good. Been with me ever since.”
“Lucky,” she says wistfully. “I’ve been waiting for my familiar for years. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get one.”
“It happens when it happens,” I say, echoing the words I’ve heard so many times. “You can’t force it.”
“I know,” she sighs. “But it’s hard, you know? Seeing everyone else with their familiars, their partners. Feeling like you’re missing something.”
I nod, my chest tightening. “I get it.”
Before she can respond, the bell above the door chimes again, and a new wave of customers pours in. We exchange a look of shared resignation, then turn back to our work.