Seth #2
What’s the point in lying? She’s right. I moved on fast, and even if she did too, it doesn’t matter.
“I’m sorry,” I say instead.
She lifts her shoulders. “I’m still not the one who hexed you. I wouldn’t spend my magic on something so useless. Keep looking.”
And even though anger coats her words, even though there’s something behind what she’s saying—something I can’t quite piece together...
I believe her. Dammit. She may know more than she’s willing to say, but I don’t think Victoria hexed me.
Rowan bows her head. “Thank you for your time. We’ll leave you alone.”
Rowan is frustratingly silent as she leads me to her car. She opens the passenger door and glares at me. Is she opening the door for me? In another situation, I’d call it good manners, but somehow… it feels like a power play.
I press my lips together and slide inside. She shuts the door softly, not slamming it like some people would when they’re—what is she? Angry? Disappointed?
When she slides into the car and grips the wheel, her knuckles are white. “Do you know what you do to me, Seth Bautista?”
I groan and lean my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes. “Just add your name to the list of people pissed off at me, then.”
“I think we have enough lists to chip away at already, thank you.” She pulls out of the icy driveway, watching the little camera on her dashboard as she goes.
“Why are you mad at me?” I ask, shaking my head.
“Mad?” Even though she’s at a stop sign, she doesn’t even glance my way. “I’m not mad at you. I’m worried. You’re a good person, but you’ve somehow given yourself such a terrible reputation that you’re… gods, you’re a danger to yourself, aren’t you?”
“I’m not good—”
“Yes. You are. I know you better than Victoria Welsh does.” She still says her name like she’s trying to spit it out of her mouth, desperate to get away from whatever unpleasant taste it leaves. “I know you care, but you insist upon putting on this act for everyone who doesn’t.”
Warmth melts in the pit of my stomach. “Are you sure?”
“Am I sure of what?”
“Are you sure that you know me like that?” I look out the window. “Maybe I really am just a jerk.”
“You act like one upon occasion.”
“What was I supposed to do? Read her mind, know that she wanted me to keep texting her?”
Her lips twitch, subtly, but I know I’m breaking through whatever barrier she’s trying to put up. “Yes. Exactly that.”
Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I don’t know anything. I don’t know why Rowan is upset, or how I was supposed to read Victoria’s mind and know she wanted me to… fight for her, I guess? More than anything else, I know I don’t have the energy to do that for her or anyone.
I have a family to take care of. A mom to care for. And no real prospects.
Why would anyone want me that badly? Victoria did the right thing, backing off before things got serious.
She wasn’t lying. I would have done the same eventually.
I don’t know why Rowan thinks I’m so good, how I tricked her and the rest of the Hawthornes into thinking I’m worth going to all this trouble for.
“I know you’re right,” I whisper. “And look, I don’t want to be an ass. I try to let everyone know what I’m looking for—”
She parks outside my house. “And what are you looking for? Do you know? Don’t say it’s sex. I know you care about these people.”
“What if it is just sex?”
“Then I’m disappointed in you for lying, which means you’ve disappointed me twice in one day.”
I turn to face her. “Don’t say that. That’s not what I want.”
She finally meets me head-on, her eyes narrowing as she spares me a simple second of her attention. “Then be better. Be who I know you are. When we meet David—we’re meeting him next—you had better prepare a proper apology.”
Well… she’s right about one thing. I already know I owe Dave an apology, and I already tried to give one just after our breakup—if I can call it that. Total failure. It doesn’t matter. Apparently, there’s still a chance he hexed me.
There’s something so firm behind her words. Rowan has always been steady and present. Does anyone else realize that she’s the rock in the Hawthorne family—especially after losing her mother?
A rare ray of winter sunlight shines onto her face, illuminating her eyes from gray to nearly green.
My lips tug up at the corner, and the next words come without permission. “You’re kind of hot when you’re bossy.”
She groans and pushes my chest, burning me with every touch. There’s no missing the red hue that creeps across her round cheeks. “Get out of my car. This kind of behavior got you into this situation.”
She’s right. I should go inside, but when I look into my quiet home, when I think about Rowan going into hers… I want to steal a little more of her time, even if it makes me selfish.
“Can we stop by the store and get some stuff for my mom?”
“You’re using her to soften me up.”
“Maybe.”
But it’s a genuine request. I’ll have to take my car if Rowan doesn’t pick me up.
Either way, I have to go to the store before dinner time.
Without giving me a genuine answer, she pulls out of the parking spot and makes the U-turn that will lead us to Starbrook’s tiny downtown area: just a few shops and a random apartment building, really.
“You don’t need to do that.” Her jaw is set, sharp. “I care about you.”
Of course, Rowan cares, but hearing her say that does something to me.
I rub at my chest, my fingers pressing into my knit sweater. “You don’t need to say all that. You—you’re doing a lot for me.”
“Stop.” She parks outside the grocery shop and exits the car without saying another word.
I scurry to follow her inside.
“What are we getting?” she asks, right down to business.
“Cleaning supplies, salt, eggs… and I’m making almondigas.” I watch her from the corner of my eye. “Want to come over?”
She stares at produce as we weave through the aisles, and for a few long moments, all I hear is the click of her shoes. “Fine. I’ll come for the soup.”