Chapter 17 #2
Thom closed his eyes, his stomach going into a free fall. He knew how much Poppy wanted to be a part of her family, and this was an offer she’d find difficult to refuse. Being a part of that unit, being a good daughter and sister, was important to her. She was going to go back.
He turned to Hayes and his friend winced. Yeah, not good. For any of them, but especially not for Poppy. They’d eat her alive.
He turned back to watch Poppy.
“And if I don’t come back?” she asked. “Can we still do lunch and go shopping?” She tipped her head back to look at the clear blue sky. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
Poppy pushed her fingers into her eye socket.
“You know what, Mom, I’m not doing this.
I’m not negotiating my worth with you anymore, with anyone anymore.
I’ll be okay with or without you. I don’t need a Benji in my life, or a family that has a rigid set of rules for me to follow, who can’t love me for being me. Either love me as I am or not at all.
“I will pay my own rent, buy the clothes I want to wear, paint my pictures, and prove to myself, and you, that I can and will stand on my own two feet. I will make, and pay, my way without anyone’s help, doing what I love to do.
I’m learning to be enough. Sure, it’s hard but I’ll get there.
Bye, Mom, call me again when you’ve digested that. ”
Poppy stood up and jammed her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Fel whimpered as he looked up at her, and she buried her free hand in his fur. “I’ve got to go, darling. You need to go inside. Thom will be wondering where you are and I don’t want him to know that I was here, being pathetic.”
Her words ripped Thom’s soul open. How could she think that? About to rush out to her, Hayes’s hand caught his arm and yanked him to a stop. His friend shook his head and Thom braked. Right. She’d said she didn’t want to look pathetic. She’d hate it if he appeared right now.
And he needed time to take in her words, to work out what they meant. To think.
Exiting the room, he walked down the hall to the study and slipped inside. When he was behind his desk, he whistled for Felony. While Poppy was around, he didn’t have a hope in hell of Fel coming to him, but it was a good way to tell Poppy where he was if she wanted to avoid him.
And he knew she needed to. They’d talk. But not today.
He heard the soft shuffle of trainers on his wooden floor and turned to see Hayes standing in the doorway. “She’s gone,” Hayes told him. Since Fel was back inside, and looking murderous behind Hayes, he’d figured.
His friend sent him a shit-eating you’re-so-stupid smile. “Guess you get it now, huh?”
Yeah. Mostly.
Poppy
This Halloween, every tree bordering Blackweather Green had been wrapped in orange lights, the branches sporting realistic bats and lengths of fake spiderweb that fluttered in the cool evening breeze.
Pumpkins—hundreds of them—lined the sidewalks and paths, a few looking like they’d been attacked by enthusiastic children with blunt knives.
The air smelled like sugar and cinnamon and woodsmoke. Someone near the bandstand was selling huge caramel apples, another booth sold spiced hot chocolate, claiming it could raise the dead—fitting, considering half the town believed the ghosts were hanging around or hovering.
There seemed to be about a million kids in costumes—tiny witches, superheroes, many different dinosaurs, and a surprisingly convincing zombie Lady Gaga—while their parents followed, acting like they weren’t going to steal their candy later.
H-Town looked both magical and slightly unhinged: festive, ridiculous, and more than a little bit haunted.
In other words, perfectly on brand. Poppy walked through the green to Lantern Beach, to where the massive bonfire stood, her hand in Wren’s elbow.
In jeans tucked into knee-high boots, Poppy buried her nose into the neck of the sage-green, cashmere polo-neck she wore under her sheepskin-lined bomber jacket.
The temps had dropped over the past few nights, and Poppy felt like winter was hovering around the corner, ready to make an early arrival.
“How long has it been since we were last together to attend the B of B?” Wren asked, gesturing to where Hayes, Dane, and Thom stood, a few yards from the bonfire.
Built on the wide beach, it towered over the guys, easily reaching eight or nine feet.
Unable to help herself, Poppy looked over at Thom again.
He wore black jeans, a black jacket, and a hard expression.
With his thick stubble and wind-tousled hair, he looked a little rough and devastatingly masculine.
She wanted nothing more than to run to him and launch herself into his arms. She’d missed him…
No, that was too tame an expression. She’d missed him like she would miss a hand, or a heart, or the breath she took. Life was far less fun than it had been before.
“You go join them, but I’m not going to, Wren,” Poppy told her. “I can’t be around him yet.”
Wren pulled a face. “Have you two still not spoken?” she asked, placing a hand on her back.
Poppy shook her head. Thom had been back for four—five?—days and she hadn’t had a call, text, email, or visit from him. With every minute that passed, she felt they were drifting further apart. And God, it hurt. More than she believed was possible.
“Wren! Poppy!”
She and Wren both turned at the sound of a piping voice, and Poppy smiled when she saw Hadley running to them, two Sharpie pens and what looked to be paper bats in her hand.
She braked in front of them and pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, her smile revealing a set of braces.
God help the boys of H-Town when she was older, Poppy decided.
Her future face and body would make them stop in their tracks.
She knew that Hayes’s scowl and his shotgun would deter anyone from making the smallest wrong move on his daughter. Add Thom to the mix; he was as protective of her as Hayes, and Hadley might get to date when she was, oh, forty? Fifty?
“Did Luna rope you into helping again, Hads?” Wren asked, after they’d both hugged her.
Hadley wrinkled her nose. “I don’t mind.
It’s fun.” She shoved a Sharpie and a paper bat each into their hands.
“You’ve done this before, you know the drill.
Write a name or a regret or a wish or a dream on the bat, and when Luna gives the okay, toss it into the fire and hand it over to the universe. ”
“You’re being very woo-woo, Hadley darling,” Wren said, looking down at her bat.
“I am very woo-woo, Wren, darling. I just tone it down because Dad’s not a fan.”
Poppy smiled at her, thinking that Hadley knew herself better at sixteen than Poppy did at nearly thirty.
“That’s ten dollars each,” Hadley said, holding out her hand, after they’d scribbled on their bats.
Poppy frowned at her. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
“It’s five dollars to burn a wish, five to burn a regret,” Hadley explained.
“I only wrote a wish,” Poppy said.
“Me, too.”
“Okay, then it’s five each.”
“I cannot believe they are charging us to make wishes,” Wren muttered.
Hadley shrugged. “Many people forget to bring their wishes and regrets along with them, so Luna suggested providing the bats and the Sharpies. The tourists are happy to pay.”
“We’re not tourists!” Poppy protested.
“Technically, you are,” Hadley argued. “Wren, you don’t live here full-time, and Poppy, you’ve only been here for the summer, permanent residency TBC.” Hadley held out her hand and waggled her fingers.
Poppy shoved her paper bat under one arm and dug around in her pocket for a five. She slapped it into Hadley’s hand with a scowl. “It’s freakin’ daylight robbery!”
Wren handed over her five, also unimpressed. “My godmother and I will be having a ripping-us-off talk later,” she said.
“I’m sure she’s quaking in her boots,” Hadley cheekily replied.
She lifted her chin, and Wren and Poppy both turned to look.
Poppy blinked, then shook her head. She was a very creative person, and routinely made her own Halloween costumes—though given the Thom situation, she hadn’t been in the mood to dress up tonight—but Luna had turned it into …
well, not art. Maybe a toddler’s finger painting?
H-Town’s mayor had dyed her hair various hues of neon: pink, green, and yellow, and was carrying a flashing LED broomstick.
A black cape covered her from head to toe, its hem dragging on the grass and dirt.
Stopping to talk to a couple, she opened her coat wide and Poppy squinted to read the text on her shirt…
Wickedly Good at Trouble.
Well, at least that wasn’t false advertising.
But the most outlandish piece of Luna’s costume was her massively oversized witch’s hat, with its tall cone decorated with fairy lights. The extra-wide brim had Luna constantly twisting to keep from banging someone in the face.
“What the hell is she wearing?” Wren asked, caught between laughter and horror.
“Did she lose a bet?” Poppy sniggered, dropping her head as Luna’s attention zeroed in on them. “Oh, God, she’s seen us. What if she asks us what we think of her outfit?”
“Whatever you do, don’t be like Jasper, who said she looked ridiculous. She cursed him on the spot,” Hadley informed them. “She even mumbled something incomprehensible and spellish.”
“Jasper will be fine because Luna doesn’t actually know any spells. And even if she did, there’s nothing to worry about because casting spells is bullshit.”
“Wren, you are such a cynic,” Hadley murmured, disappointed.
Wren bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, I try.”
Poppy agreed with Hadley but couldn’t take her side because Luna was barreling down on them. She stopped a yard away, spun around to show off her outfit, and knocked a teenager with the brim of her hat.
“Serves you right,” Luna told her, scowling. “Why aren’t you in costume, Lisa-Jane?”