CHAPTER SIX #2
I force a smile, grounding myself, focusing on the table between us, the sound of the ocean, the warm glow of the lights overhead.
Be here.
Just… be here.
I hadn’t told her why I was really back. Just that I’d be in town for the summer and wanted to meet up if she was around.
Lucky for me, she was.
A server approaches, placing menus in front of us with a practiced smile.
“What would you two lovely ladies like to drink this evening?”
“A glass of Riesling please,” I reply, returning the smile.
“Make that two,” Junie adds, shooting me a smirk that instantly transports me back to being sixteen and up to no good. “Actually, make that a bottle.”
I huff out a quiet laugh, something in my chest loosening despite everything.
The server disappears and returns a moment later with water, a chilled bottle, and two glasses, the pale gold liquid catching the last light of the sunset as he pours.
We both lift our glasses, clinking them together softly.
The sound feels like a small reset.
A beginning.
“So tell me everything I’ve missed. Last time we talked, you were starting a new job,” she says, leaning forward in her seat, eyes bright with genuine interest.
My grip tightens around the stem of my glass.
I glance around, buying myself a moment. The patio has filled in around us, couples tucked close together, friends laughing too loudly, the low rhythm of music threading through it all. Normal. Easy.
I take a slow sip, letting the crisp, cool wine linger on my tongue before setting the glass down and tilting my head, carefully arranging my expression.
“That’s sort of one of the reasons I’m back. The marketing job laid me off, but that’s okay. I can always find another job. Lucky for me, my aunt needed someone to dog-sit Gin for the summer while she went on some Eat, Pray, Love adventure across the sea.”
The words come out lighter than they feel.
Practiced.
Like if I say them that way, they might actually be true.
Junie’s expression shifts—just slightly—but I catch it.
Concern.
Curiosity.
Maybe even a little disbelief.
“In her townhouse? What about your gran’s place or your parents’ house?”
My stomach churns, the wine suddenly sitting heavier than it should.
I keep my shoulders loose, my tone casual.
“My father sold our home and moved to Florida after Mom passed. My aunt is actually staying in Gran’s house, which is where I’m at for the summer.”
The words settle between us quieter this time.
Heavier.
For a moment, the noise of the patio fades just enough that all I can hear is the ocean, steady and relentless, filling the silence I don’t quite know how to.
I reach for my glass, taking another sip, using it as a shield.
“I’m really sorry,” she murmurs. “The job thing sucks, and I know it’s gotta be hard coming back to that house.”
I plaster a smile on my face. The reality was I hadn’t really processed my grief, and now all the walls I’d built to protect myself felt paper-thin, ready to be blown down.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. No big deal. I’ve got my aunt’s dog to keep me company.” Blinking back unshed tears, I stare down at my nearly empty glass through blurry vision.
Maybe wine was a bad idea.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“That’s sweet of you, but right now I want to hear about you. You kicked Derek to the curb finally?” I wave her off and refill my glass, lifting an eyebrow toward her bare ring finger.
She exhales before taking a long swig of wine, draining her glass. I watch her intently, waiting patiently.
Looks like I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
“Yeah, actually, he filed, not me. But it’s a relief. We gave it a solid four years, and I don’t think we were ever happy.” She raises her glass in a mock toast. “And the divorce was finalized last week, so I’m back to being a Beck.”
“Juniper Beck sounds so much nicer than Juniper Mallory anyway,” I reply, clinking my glass gently against hers.
“I think so too.” She gives me a soft smile, genuine.
Maybe this is what I needed.
Reconnecting with friends.
That’s when I see it.
Condensation droplets hovering over my water glass.
Not sliding.
Not falling.
Floating.
My breath stutters for half a second before I force my hand to move like everything is completely normal. I brush my fingers down the side of the glass, pressing the droplets back into place, smearing them into a harmless sheen before wiping my damp hand on the napkin in my lap.
The last thing I needed right now was some freaky water magic.
Across from me, Junie keeps talking, swirling her wine like nothing’s wrong—but I know better. She’s a water witch. If anyone would notice something like that…
My pulse ticks up.
But her gaze stays on her glass, unfocused and distant for a moment.
Maybe she didn’t see.
Goddess, I hope she didn’t see.
Telling her I lost my job was one thing.
Telling her I gave up my magic—forsook it—and now it’s suddenly back, unpredictable and leaking out of me like a broken dam?
That’s something else entirely.
I force myself to lean back in my chair, to relax my shoulders, to breathe.
“So we should plan to have dinner again before you leave. I’ll be pretty busy the next two weeks, but maybe the following week?”
“Yeah, dinner sounds great. I’m pretty busy too but nothing I can’t rearrange,” I lie through my teeth.
Busy.
Right.
Not busy doing anything other than walking Gin and refreshing job listings until my eyes blur, but she doesn’t need to know that. I don’t need to sound desperate. Or lost.
And I definitely need time to figure out what the hell is happening to me.
“I’d love that. With the reunion coming up, I’m sure I’ll get pulled into helping with stuff, but my schedule should slow down after that,” Juniper says, absently swirling her glass, the wine catching the light.
Reunion.
Right.
I nod, swallowing around the sudden lump in my throat.
“Are you excited for the reunion?”
“Of course. It’s always good to see family.”
I raise an eyebrow at her immediately.
Her mouth twitches.
“Okay, it’s a little stressful. But it’s worth it to see my gran.”
I take a slow sip of wine, letting it linger a little longer than necessary.
At the mention of her gran, grief catches me off guard—sharp and unexpected.
Even after two weeks here, I still wake up some mornings half-asleep and expecting to hear the soft clink of a spoon against a mug. To smell coffee drifting down the hall. To find my grandmother standing at the stove like no time had passed at all.
The silence that follows instead is… louder than it should be.
I clear my throat and set my glass down carefully.
“So what’s your plan?” she asks, mercifully changing the subject.
“Other than dog-sitting and job applications, nothing really,” I reply with a small shrug, aiming for nonchalance.
The rest of the evening slips by in a warm, hazy blur.
We laugh, really laugh, about the summers we spent here, running barefoot through town, getting into trouble we swore we’d never admit to. Sneaking into places we shouldn’t have been. Playing mermaids in the surf until our skin burned pink and our hair dried stiff with salt.
For a little while, it almost feels like nothing has changed.
Like we’re still those girls.
One glass of wine turns into two, and then somehow the bottle is empty between us. The mini lobster roll bites she ordered barely make a dent in soaking up the alcohol, all buttery and rich but not nearly substantial enough to counter the soft buzz settling into my limbs.
By the time we stand, the world tilts just slightly—not enough to be obvious, but enough that I’m very aware of the way my hips sway a little too much as I adjust my balance.
The patio is darker now, the string lights glowing warmly overhead, the ocean reduced to a shadowy, endless expanse beyond the railing.
“It’s getting late. I need to head back.” I glance down at my phone and blink at the time. “Gin is very particular about when she wants to go to bed.”
Junie laughs softly. “Okay, but text me when you get home, okay?”
There’s something in her tone, light but edged with care.
“I will.”
We stand there for a heartbeat longer, neither of us quite moving, like we’re both aware that this—whatever this is—matters more than we expected it to.
Then she steps forward and pulls me into another hug.
This one is softer. Warmer.
Familiar in a way that settles something deep within me.
“You too!” I say when we pull apart, grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder.
I give her one last smile before turning toward the exit, weaving back through the tables and out the front door into the night air.
The cool breeze hits my skin, cutting through the warmth of the wine, grounding me. For a moment, I just stand there. Breathing. Listening to the distant crash of waves.
Trying to ignore the faint, electric hum still thrumming beneath my skin, like something inside me is waking up.
Whether I want it to… or not.