Chapter 13 #3
Usually, I carry my weight like armor. But today? I feel… lighter. Like last night cracked open a window in me, and I’m not choking on stale air anymore.
Between clients, I set my phone up and record a quick TikTok. Just me, shuffling my deck under a filter that makes everything hazy-gold. Onscreen text: Love doesn’t fix you. But it reminds you you’re not broken. It’s cheesy as hell, but whatever. I hit post before I can overthink it.
My phone buzzes almost immediately. But it isn’t a comment or a like.
Iris:
You didn’t come home last night. You okay?
I smirk, typing back:
I’m great. I’ll explain later.
Two seconds later, my other sister checks in.
Opal:
Willow Vale not coming home? This doesn’t happen?!?! Must be loovvveeeee!
I roll my eyes, thumb flying:
Calm down. It was one night.
Opal responds with fifteen heart emojis and a GIF of a rabbit eating lettuce, whatever the hell that means.
The hours slip by in a blur of cards and clients.
But thankfully, it isn’t a fully packed day.
I wrap up my last reading by five o’clock.
It’s a breath of relief when it’s finally over, the shop is quiet, the candles burned low.
I blow them out one by one, pack up my bag, and lock the door behind me.
As I step into the night air, I grin wickedly.
Because I have a plan for tonight.
I head home first. Neither of my sisters is home, mercifully, so I don’t get bombarded with questions.
It’s only the cat that watches me with suspicion and worry.
I take a sweep around the house, grabbing a few specific items. I put a lot of thought into them.
What has the most soul? What’s personal to me?
One by one, I pick some winners. I load it all into my truck before returning to the house and packing an overnight bag.
Presumptuous?
Of course not. Why couldn’t I spend the night at my boyfriend’s house?
Just the thought pastes an unhinged smile on my face.
Boyfriend. For Willow Vale? Who would have ever thought such a thing possible?
Checking the time, I shoot off a quick text.
Can I come over once you’re done with your show?
There are only ten more minutes until Lucky has to go on stage. But he replies almost instantly.
Yes! Whenever. Always.
There’s a swarm of butterflies that is unleashed in my stomach as I read his words. I heart the message, slip my phone into my back pocket, and head back out to my truck.
I have one more stop. And it’s going to take some time.
By the time I roll into the parking garage at Lucky’s building, I’m practically giddy.
I have so much shit to haul that I have to first track down one of those luggage haulers.
Piece by piece, I unload my truck and stack it all on the roller.
And then, very carefully, because I have precious cargo, I make my way to the elevator.
It’s nearly midnight by the time I ring the doorbell, and I’m grinning like a fucking loon.
Because tonight? I’m not just staying over.
I’m moving in a little chaos.
The door swings open, and Lucky’s standing there in black joggers and a white tank top, hair damp from a post-show shower. He grins when he sees me—wide, wild, the kind of grin that makes me feel like I’m the prize at the end of his night.
And then his eyes drop to the luggage cart.
There’s a lot there to analyze.
Overnight bag. A blanket, candles, mugs, crystals. An oversized cage with a small, twitchy occupant inside.
His grin collapses into utter confusion. “What the actual fuck?”
“Surprise!” I sing, pushing past him with the cart before he can even decide if he’s letting me in.
He stares, frozen in the doorway, while I wheel my chaos straight into his pristine, soulless penthouse.
First order of business: I pull out the blanket from my cart and toss it across the back of his leather couch. “This place is giving depressed and ready-to-run vibes. We’re fixing that.”
Next, the candles. I plop them onto his immaculate marble counters, lighting one with a flourish. “Instant coziness. Less morgue, way more sexy séance.”
Lucky finally closes the door, stalking after me like he’s not sure whether to laugh or call security. “Willow. What are you doing?”
“Decorating.” I toss him a look over my shoulder as I set a hunk of rose quartz on his coffee table. “Your home is a soulless prison. Your place needs life. Personality.”
I spin toward him, only to walk right past him to retrieve the extra set of teacups I brought with me. I set them up in a corner of his kitchen, making a mental note to pick up a kettle. Finally, I turn, hands on my hips. “And more importantly, you need some love, always waiting for you at home.”
Before he can even process that, I bend, open the cage, and scoop up a ball of fur and ears.
Lucky’s eyes widen. “Willow. No.”
“Yes.” I march right up to him, cradling the beautiful white rabbit against my chest, and plop it into his stunned arms. “Meet your new roommate.”
He stands there, holding it like it’s a live grenade instead of an adorable ball of the softest fur I’ve ever felt. “You bought me… a rabbit.”
“Obviously.” I grin, wicked and satisfied. “Because this place has no soul, and life is exactly what it needs. A new, literal life, living in it. Besides, it’s beautifully ironic, cause, you know, magician and all.” I indicate all of him, every beautiful inch. “So, it’s perfect.”
“I’ve never had a pet before,” Lucky admits, voice low as he looks down at the creature.
“Which is exactly why you need one.” I step closer, my hand brushing the rabbit’s back.
She’s wildly calm, which is why I picked her instead of one of the babies.
She’d been left behind when her previous owner died.
She just wanted someone to love on her. “Because now, when you come home from your unhinged magician life, someone will always be waiting for you. Her name is Hattie. Isn’t that perfect? ”
Lucky looks at me, deadpan disbelief. “I am not going to pull her out of a hat just because I’m a magician.”
“It was already her name,” I say, my hands rising in my defense. “Swear to Ma’at. It was just fate, plain and simple.”
Lucky let’s out a noise, and I can’t tell if it’s annoyance or defeat. But just then, Hattie half crawls up his chest and nuzzles her little head into his neck.
Lucky stiffens, and for a second, I’m worried he’s going to drop her.
But as he looks down at the little angel, as he runs a hand down her back, he…
melts. His face crumples, brows knitting together, mouth soft.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, stroking her ears with one careful finger. “I think I love her.”
I bite my lower lip, clasping my hands together, and swaying just a little. “And that is how you win day one of being a girlfriend.”
Lucky looks up at me, still holding the rabbit like it’s holy. His grin returns, and he shakes his head. “You’re out of your mind, Dagger Kitten. But, weirdly, thank you.”
“You are very welcome,” I say sweetly, leaning in to kiss him. The rabbit wiggles between us, and we both laugh into the kiss, tangled in neon light, chaos, and a moment that feels terrifyingly like… family.