Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ROSE
THREE WEEKS LATER
Throwing my purse onto the passenger seat, I sigh, close my eyes, and rest my head against the headrest as the roar of my magic settles into a low hum.
My head feels foggy and my hands tremble as I pull the seatbelt across my chest, clicking it into place.
After a night surrounded by so many people, I’m both drained and overstimulated.
Normally, I thrive on planning events and parties—being an emotional conduit witch—but the constant barrage of texts from my ex this past week has my adrenaline spiking, making it difficult to control my magic. I rub my temples and inhale deeply.
A month. That’s how long it’s been since I caught him backstage with another woman. At an event I planned. With one of his favorite bands. I never thought he’d cheat, but the image is burned into me: half-naked, tangled up behind instrument cases, her lipstick smeared down his neck like a brand—
No. I’m not going there. I won’t let him ruin this gig. Ruin my career—the one I’ve bled, sweat, and clawed for. Years of school, building connections, grinding through every step. I won’t let him ruin that too. On the night of our fucking one-year anniversary, no less.
Happy anniversary to me.
This is why I should’ve stuck to the plan: graduate, then make something of myself.
Live my best life helping others. I wasn’t supposed to meet him that last semester.
Wasn’t supposed to let anyone in. I was lonely, trying to fill the void in my chest I still can’t explain.
I thought Jett cared. Maybe even loved me, in his own way.
Now I know better. It was all a facade to worm his way into my connections. Maybe it was that way from the start. Maybe I was a fool, seeing something that wasn’t there but that I wanted. Does it matter?
I pull out my phone, block his number, and delete the one-sided text chain.
My chest loosens, like I can finally breathe without that invisible weight pressing down.
Even the knot between my brows eases. I should’ve listened to Netti—not just weeks ago, but months ago, when she flew in, took one look at him, and quietly warned me.
She said something felt off, that I deserved better.
That I should leave space for someone who could actually love me.
I laughed her off, told myself she didn’t understand him.
Didn’t get the moody, artistic energy I’d grown accustomed to.
But maybe… deep down, I knew she was right.
My lips tingle with a memory—not Jett’s, but another man’s. A kiss that stole my breath a year ago. A kiss I ran from out of fear. I was in my last year of college and wanted only freedom. So why does Carter Abernathy still haunt my every thought?
I have to get him out of my head.
The neon dash clock glares in the dark as I double check my seatbelt, shift into reverse, and pull out of the lot.
Tonight is Wolflight’s opening performance, and I’ve taken a side gig coordinating the event at Summerwind.
It’s a change of pace from the birthdays and banquets I’ve run at Greyhaven’s event hall.
The hall pays the bills, but it isn’t my endgame. That’s why I keep picking up side work.
Openings are my favorite—the magic of starting something new, of watching a dream come to life.
And Angelique’s lounge has been consuming every spare moment since her call weeks ago.
I’m exhausted, but once the opening runs smoothly, it could open doors I’ve only dreamed of.
Maybe then I’ll finally put in my two weeks at the event hall and chase freelance work full-time. Travel the world, gig to gig.
That’s been the dream since childhood. Nearly a year has passed since I graduated from Catoria University with my degree in Event Planning, and I’ve been working nonstop ever since—securing high-profile gigs at exclusive clubs nationwide.
Jett hated that drive in me, said it didn’t match his pace.
At first, he seemed supportive, even when I was traveling for internships.
I thought being an artist, he’d understand. That he’d want the same.
I sigh, pulling the tie from my hair and massaging my aching scalp before it spirals into a migraine.
His wandering eye—and other parts—should’ve been a warning. I’d caught him checking people out more than once. He always claimed it was artistic study for a new project. And I’d believed him.
Artistic study, my ass. More like practicing to be a cheating asshat.
Why didn’t I use my magic? I could’ve read his emotions, uncovered the truth. But I have boundaries. Peering into someone’s feelings without permission is a breach of trust. And magic isn’t perfect—people can hide, lie, twist themselves into something they’re not.
I trusted him.
And look where it got me.
I should’ve ended things before they became serious, but my career consumed me, and he was a comforting distraction from the emotional rollercoaster at the end of each day.
I thought he knew me. I thought he understood my drive for freedom, creativity, and helping others. I never thought he’d do what he did.
Slamming on the brakes, my seatbelt locks painfully across my shoulder as a car blows through a red light. My heart pounds, skin damp with cold sweat as I struggle to steady my breath. A few seconds later and they’d have T-boned my brand-new-to-me sedan.
Maybe I am working too hard. But it isn’t forever.
Besides, I’m making people happy, using both my magic and the skills I’ve spent the last four years honing.
I like my job, and I’m good at it. He certainly didn’t complain when it got us into the hottest events in the country—or paid for our expensive trips.
Fuck that loser.
I jab the radio on, blasting my favorite pop-rock station, and continue down the lamplit road.
I’ve lived in sprawling cities and tiny towns, but the suburbs suit me best. Big enough for my favorite shops, small enough that I can walk to work or downtown.
On early evenings, I often do—though Summerwind sits across town, nearly a thirty-minute drive from home.
At least for the rest of the month, aside from food runs and picking up décor, I can my work my side gig from my favorite café downtown.
The drive feels like minutes, but the dashboard clock says otherwise.
I pull into the driveway of the one-story house I’m renting.
Small, one bedroom and bath, but a spacious living room and pre-furnished.
Not knowing how long I’d stay in Greyhaven, I rented instead of buying.
Still, I made it feel like home—Netti even flew in for a small party when I moved in to celebrate my new job. Almost a year ago now.
And here I am, stuck in the same routine. The very thing I swore I’d never settle for. I wanted adventure. I wanted to travel, to experience life. When did I trade that for a nine-to-five and side gigs just to keep the dream alive?
I put the car in park, grab my purse, and lock up. Solar lamps illuminate the small concrete walkway. On the other side of the door Ginger mewls, tiny paws thudding against the wood.
“I’m coming, Ginger.” I dig through my purse until I find the key. But when I bend to unlock the door, I notice a folded square of paper shoved beneath it.
I scratch Ginger’s head before picking it up. My vision swims, stomach knotting as I recognize Jett’s chicken-scratch handwriting. Bracing against the doorframe, I read:
Baby girl, I know I messed up but don’t ignore me. I miss you.
Love, Jett
Scowling, I crumple the paper, glance outside—nothing amiss—then slam the door and throw the deadbolt before tossing it into the cold fireplace.
Couldn’t he take the hint? I’m done. And now he’s resorting to shoving notes under my door?
I scoop Ginger into my arms, his soft fur warm against my cheek, his purr vibrating through me. All I want is to curl up and shut the world out, but his insistent nudging breaks me out of my spiral.
“I’m sure you’re hungry,” I murmur, setting him down on the tile. My own stomach growls as I open the fridge. The faint scent of this morning’s coffee lingers in the air. “Looks like dinner for two. I worked through lunch.”
Ginger meows, copper fur prickling with static as he weaves between my legs.
I pull out what’s left: sliced turkey, Colby Jack, avocado-oil mayo, a crusty loaf of bread, and a cold root beer—a sugary promise.
From the cupboard, I grab Ginger’s food.
The metallic clang echoes softly, the hiss of the can opening sharp.
I serve him first, then wash my hands. My root beer fizzes when I crack it open, the sweet carbonation a small reward.
“Ready for bed?” I ask as he licks his paws, tail swishing. He follows on my heels as I head to the bedroom.
Hand on the switch, I pause. Movement near the window.
“Who’s there?” My voice cuts sharp as I flip the light on. But it’s only the curtain, swaying in the breeze. A chill creeps down my spine as I snap the window shut, lock it, and tug the blackout curtain into place.
I must’ve left it open this morning.
With a steadying breath, I loosen the bun holding my dark auburn hair and let it fall down my back, the weight soothing as I massage my tired scalp. Maybe I’ll take a vacation—somewhere sunny, a beach for a week or two—once this project is over.