Seth
Rowan silently leads me right to Juniper’s bedroom. She knocks on the door in several loud thuds, and Juniper is quick to appear.
“What is it?” she asks, exasperated.
The last time I heard Rowan’s voice this soft was when she was admitting to breaking her mother’s favorite deity sculpture.
She had to have been thirteen and practicing levitation.
Even though I tried to take the fall for her, she wouldn’t let me.
The way she sounds now—it’s that same broken, scared voice.
But she doesn’t need to be so afraid, just like she didn’t need to back then. Her mom wasn’t mad, and I’m certainly not.
Of course, Juniper has something to help; she gives Rowan the potion, and Rowan’s hands are shaking as she takes it and removes the stopper.
“Are you sure you don’t want to do it…?” Rowan asks, averting her gaze from either of us.
Juniper narrows her eyes. “I’m sure. You can handle this.”
And though Juniper’s words are as firm as ever, there’s something caring in the way she says it.
Rowan doesn’t argue, leading me to a bathroom.
This one is tidier than the rest in the house, without the beauty potions and supplies that I know litter the space Rowan shares with Laurel and Aspen.
She lets go of my hand and bends low, opening the cupboard beneath the sink to find the first-aid kit.
It’s one I know well. When Laurel and I were younger, we’d get into all sorts of scrapes. Just like now, Rowan was the one dragging us back to get cleaned up, but her mother used to be the one who pulled out the first-aid kit.
There’s one glaring difference now: Rowan caused the wound this time—not that I blame her.
She’s trying to help, I know she is, and magic always has a chance of going wrong.
No matter how hard I stare at her, she won’t meet my eye as we move to the kitchen and she sits me down, turning on the big light.
“Ro,” I whisper.
“Hm?” She slathers a potion over my burn, and it heals before my eyes.
The stinging fades away, and I know within a few hours the skin won’t be tender to the touch. There’s nothing for her to beat herself up over, but of course, that won’t stop her.
“Accidents happen with magic,” I say. “Your mom taught me that, so I know you know it.”
She looks up, and exhaustion pours from her in waves as she pulls her hands from mine, fussing with the potions. It’s not until now that I realize her eyes are sunken, with dark circles under them, and there’s a tremble in her hand.
Either the spell took a lot out of her, or she hasn’t been sleeping.
“I do. I know. But I really wanted this to work. I wanted to do something right.” She shakes her head, quiet for several moments. “Forget it. Juniper is worried about me, you know.”
“Maybe she should be.” I reach for her hands again. It’s natural to take them both, pulling her closer, until her body is resting between my legs. “When’s the last time you got a good night of sleep?”
She lifts an eyebrow, looking amused. “Are you saying I look tired?”
“A little.”
“No woman wants to hear that, Seth Bautista.” She lets out a soft huff. “I still need to bandage your hands.”
“Don’t. Don’t worry about that.”
For a second, it feels like the hex is gone.
It’s been feeling like that more and more when I’m with Rowan.
Easier to smile. A little lighter. I’m holding her hand, and she’s looking down at me with a gaze that sets me on fire again—and the fear, the worry about hurting her, it disappears into a sealed envelope in the back of my mind. It’s just us.
She’s not pulling away. No one is interrupting us.
Every time we have a moment like this, there’s a weight off my shoulders—even now. Was I hexed, or was I looking in the wrong places… for the wrong people?
“Maybe the spell worked.” I peer at her earnestly. “I don’t feel hexed right now.”
Her face crumples. “It didn’t. It backfired. I can’t do anything right.”
“Stop.” I stand up, ducking my head so I can keep staring at her, keep forcing her to hold my gaze.
She’s close enough that our chests touch. This is usually where we would jump away, where I would make a joke and move on to something lighter.
It never comes.
She lets go of one hand only to pull out the bandages and wrap my wounds. Every movement feels like an act of affection, like something deeper, another thing I’ve filed away in my mind to ignore for… well, for as long as I can.
Because Rowan is here. She’s here when it’s hard.
She’s using her magic until it exhausts her, and she’s trying.
I can’t say that for most people. I have a lot of friends around Starbrook, that’s true, but most of our friendships have been drifting since my mom got sick.
When I stopped showing up to basketball practice and dropped the team.
When I started working out at home more than at the gym.
When they stopped texting, and I kept forgetting to hit them up.
That never happened with Rowan—or the rest of the Hawthornes, but it feels especially true for her. Here. Now.
Even when it backfires, I trust her magic.
I trust her.
“The other night,” I start. “I’ve been meaning to say—”
Her phone rings, and she pulls away, glancing at the screen.
David.
No picture, just his name, and it’s like I’m plunging into an ice bath.
Rowan ignores the call, but her cheeks are the same cherry red I’ve always admired.
Why does my stomach ache? It’s like the wound moved, the same burning feelings stinging my belly instead of my hands.
“Sorry.” She slips her phone into the pocket of her skirt. “What were you saying? About the other night?”
There’s a hope in her eyes, but it makes no sense.
Dave wanted to ask her out, and he doesn’t play games, so I’d bet he did.
She probably said yes. I don’t have the courage to look for a confirmation, and I know Rowan won’t tell me—as far as I know, she’s never dated before, but it’s just that she’s never told anyone.
She’s private, classy, and better than me by miles. No one she’s been with would ever hex her. For all I know, I’m the reason it backfired. My hex could have ruined her magic.
I smile tightly. “Nothing. Just that I had fun.”
Her eyes narrow. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Well, I gotta—I mean, it’s my mom—”
“You have to leave.” She nods and looks away. “Of course.”
Before I can step outside, she follows, waiting for me at the door, even once the blustery air blows in.
“We’ll see each other soon, right? We still have to interview Scarlet.”
“Yeah.” I don’t look at her. “Soon.”
We’re close to breaking the hex. We have to be. That should make me lighter, more certain of whatever happens next, but it doesn’t. When it’s all over, Rowan will probably be dating David and…
She’ll be another person who’s too busy for me, someone else who regrets spending time on me.
I don’t want to be the cause of that regret. She deserves better.
But none of that is why that heavy feeling returns when I walk home.
Scarlet Moreau is either the one who cast the hex, or she’s going to kill me once I accuse her. And honestly? Out of everyone, I’d deserve it most from her.