Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Poppy
H-Town’s Lantern Dedication Walk was a long-standing tradition, one from Luna’s very first Halloween event over a decade ago.
As Poppy walked between Wren and Hadley—Thom, Dane, Hayes, and Luna trailing behind—she decided it was one of those events that appeared gentle and whimsical on the surface but carried real weight if you let yourself look closer.
At dusk, just when night started creeping into town, the church bells would call both residents and tourists to the town square. From there, the procession wound its way through the streets, eventually spilling out onto Lantern Beach.
There, the crowd paused for a quiet acknowledgement of unfinished stories—fractured relationships, grief carried too long, people quietly losing their way beneath careful smiles.
The Lantern Dedication wasn’t about letting things go or wishes and prayers.
H- Town already had the Bonfire of the Bewitched for that.
The ritual itself was simple. Each participant chose a lantern—made from recycled paper, naturally—and wrote a single name on its side.
Not their own, but the name of someone they loved, worried about, missed, or hoped might somehow find their footing again Someone they’d misunderstood—or who’d misunderstood them right back.
A connection that needed reestablishing.
Beneath the name, they added an action. To have a conversation. Issue an apology. Attempt a second chance. Forgiveness. Honesty. Or a simple admission, even if it was only to themselves.
Simple, really.
But Poppy knew that simple didn’t mean easy.
She pushed her hands into the pockets of her leather bomber jacket and looked up at the sky, washed in bruised purples and blues, with hints of orange and pink.
To her, it felt like it was holding its breath, waiting to see what the humans would come up with, or whether they would be, as they frequently were, disappointing and trivial.
She heard the rumble of Thom’s deep voice behind her and stared straight ahead, trying not to eavesdrop on his conversation with Hayes and Dane.
Since their kiss a few days ago, Poppy had been hyper-aware of Thom—swinging between being overly casual and exiting whatever room he walked into as soon as she could without making it obvious.
At this rate, he was probably wondering if she had a split personality.
But if someone could explain how to act after you kissed your ex’s estranged brother—a kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about and replaying—that would be great.
Since they’d locked lips, Thom had grown quieter.
More controlled and more distant, and he’d been plenty reticent before.
Poppy was convinced he thought the kiss was a mistake.
He went out of his way to avoid touching her, almost treating her like she was radioactive.
When they did talk, they both kept things polite and light—it felt like they were both trapped in a badly-written soap opera, desperately pretending the whole thing hadn’t happened.
Except she couldn’t erase the fact that the kiss had felt real in a way that kissing Benji never had. At the time, it had simply felt … right.
And that was a problem. Was this just rebound attraction—her trying to slot someone in Benji’s place, to find the place in the world she’d lost when she ran out on the wedding?
Or was it because Thom had always been on her side?
Even when they were young, he’d been the one person who made her feel accepted.
Was kissing him just her adult version of reaching for that again?
And that was why she’d write his name on her lantern, along with something along the lines of trying to figure out whether she was attracted to him…or to the safety she felt when she was with him.
Poppy resisted the urge to scrub her hands over her face, knowing it would draw attention.
And if someone asked what was wrong, what would she even say?
That she felt guilty for accepting Benji’s proposal for the wrong reasons?
Guilty for being weak? For using him? Guilty for kissing Thom so soon afterward?
Guilty for being so fundamentally flawed that she always needed validation?
Maybe she was overthinking, overanalyzing—giving their kiss, their mutual attraction far too much mental bandwidth. But one core truth remained: she needed to keep her distance. If one kiss could cause this much emotional havoc, going further was terrifying.
Every relationship in her life—except Wren—had been contingent on her playing a role. But what if Thom was the only other exception? What if wanting him felt exactly like it was meant to? What then?
Jerked out of her thoughts by Hadley’s elbow in her ribs, Poppy looked at her young friend, frowning at her somber expression. “What’s wrong, Hads?” she asked.
Hadley sent her a shaky smile. “She’s here. The biker ghost from Solstice Deep.”
Poppy immediately took Hadley’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Does she scare you?” she asked. If this ghost was hassling Hadley, she’d step through the veil herself and take her on. Nobody messed with Hadley.
Hadley smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think she’s even noticed me. No, she’s fixated on you.”
And didn’t that sound a little creepy? “Is she someone I should worry about?”
“No. I get the sense that she thinks you are a puzzle she can’t work out.”
Poppy nodded and squeezed Hadley’s hand again. “I’m sorry you see them, Hads.”
Hadley shrugged. “It’s not that deep, Pops. It’s not like I see them all the time, they aren’t trauma-dumping on me or asking me to pass on messages. They just dial in, then disappear. They don’t mess with me.”
Poppy felt a little better hearing that. “If that changes, you let me know right away, okay?”
“Jeez, Pops, relax. I’ve got this handled.”
Poppy hoped so, but just in case, she lightly pinched Hadley. “Promise me.”
Hadley pushed out her lower lip. “Okay, okay … promise. Satisfied?”
Not really, but she knew that was all she’d get from Hadley today.
Shaking off her unease, Poppy looked at the printed town map Hadley held in her hand, detailing the route.
Boring, uninteresting, and flat, the map pulled her out of the experience, reminding her of right angles and rigidity.
And reality. Pulling it from Hadley’s grasp, she turned, walked backwards, and waved it in front of Luna’s nose. “This is a terrible map, Luna.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Luna asked, frowning. “It’s accurate.”
Poppy’s breath hitched when Thom stepped forward, and his hand encircled her bicep to keep her walking in a reasonably straight line.
Poppy sent him a quick smile. There was a crowd behind her, more people in front of them, and she needed the guidance.
Some people chattered and laughed, enjoying the hint of spookiness, the element of woo-woo.
Others looked sober, thoughtful, a little reverent.
“The event is mystical, lovely, spooky, Halloween-y … very on brand for H-Town,” Poppy said, still walking backward, still guided by a silent Thom. “But this map is pedantic, formal, so very boring.”
Luna stared at her, then shrugged. “So, design a better one,” she told her.
Poppy stopped walking, and the others braked with her. The rest of the procession swarmed past them, ants avoiding an obstacle. “You want me to draw a map?” she clarified.
“If you’re going to criticize something, give me a solution,” Luna told her, sounding crisp.
Despite her floppy hat decorated with plastic berries, her long, floor-length kaftan, and rainbow hair—green streaks had been added to the pink and blue—Poppy saw the businesswoman, the strategist, and the go-getter beyond the surface.
Luna used her looks and eccentricity to keep people off-balance, but she was a shrewd bird. Very shrewd.
“You’re artistic,” she stated. “I remember you used to draw and paint while Wren practiced, and you were quite talented. Paint me a map of the town, something that isn’t…”—she waited a beat—“pedantic, formal and boring.”
Poppy felt a surge of excitement, already imagining how she’d portray the streets, with layout, how she’d draw the lake and Blackweather Green, the iron bandstand.
The stores… She’d use the palette of the sky, purples and blues and deep gray, with hints of tangerine and fuchsia.
She’d draw tiny lampposts and slightly sinister carved pumpkins, ghosts in windows…
She looked at Thom, whose hands were now jammed into the front pockets of his jeans.
“Can we go home?” she demanded. Maybe she shouldn’t refer to Solstice Deep as home, but she didn’t care.
She still considered it hers. She wanted to sketch, to get all her ideas on paper before they vanished in a puff of smoke, held hostage in some unreachable part of her brain by self-doubt.
“Sure, I want to finish removing the paneling in the study,” Thom agreed. He looked around and shrugged. “This isn’t my thing anyway.”
“Neither of you is going anywhere,” Luna said in her don’t-mess-with-me voice. “Because what’s the point of leaving now and coming back for the Witching Hour Social later?”
Why did Luna think she was attending the singles event? Poppy was sure she’d said no. “I’m not going to that, Luna.”
“You are if you want the commission to draw a new town map.”
Before she could respond, Thom jumped in. “That’s blackmail, Luna.”
Yes, exactly!
“Blackmail is such a harsh word,” Luna replied, insouciant. She looked at Thom, her gaze steady. “You know my position, Thomas. It hasn’t changed.”
What position? What was she missing? Poppy wanted to ask, but that wasn’t what was important now. She had a chance to design a map, to test her artistic talents and to get paid for doing so. Hell, if that meant making small talk with strangers, then she’d do it.
“I’ll go, Luna.”
Luna’s expression suggested that it was never in any doubt. “Of course you will, darling,” she said, placing her hand on Poppy’s arm and squeezing. “Good girl.”
Poppy noticed her fingernails and bent down to see them better. No. Were those broomsticks on her inch-long talons? Seriously?
“Does anyone ever say no to you?” Thom asked, sounding curious. And irritated.
“Not unless they want to be hexed,” Luna cheerfully replied.
Hadley clasped her hands and rested her fingers against her lips. “I really, really want to be like Luna when I’m an adult,” she murmured, to no one in particular.
Hayes mock-clutched his heart. “Baby girl, don’t scare me like that.”
Luna swatted his arm and wrapped her arm around Hadley’s waist. “I’ll teach you all my tricks, darling child,” she said, walking Hadley away. Then she looked back at Hayes and sent him a long, slow, mischievous, blood-curdling wink.
Hayes shook his head. “Maybe we should move,” he muttered. “Most parents worry about peer pressure from their kids’ friends. I worry about our town’s first citizen corrupting my daughter.”
Poppy thought he had a right to be. Luna was diabolical.