Rowan
I park outside the tavern and stare in. Seconds turn to minutes. Clear skies turn to snowfall. Maybe I should go home, but I don’t want to look across the street and see him shoveling the walkway. I don’t want to see him at all. It’s far too embarrassing.
What is it about Seth that makes it impossible to keep my mouth shut?
I’m in the wrong here—for assuming things, for being upset over nothing, and for letting him run away.
I messed up.
Why am I still doubting myself? My role in my family, my friendship with Seth, and everything else. And that insecurity hurt Seth. I could tell by the way he looked at me. He couldn’t even sit in a car with me.
His feelings for Laurel always felt like such a certainty to me. When I was looking at him, he was looking at her—wasn’t he? For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m not so sure.
I’ve never seen him so upset. So when he told me to flee, I did.
And I’m running again. Running into my family business.
Before my mother’s passing, the tavern was an apothecary, filled with sweet herbs and the comfort of our family’s matron. I still seek those things, pushing past tipsy patrons and familiar faces, into the kitchen where Maple is hard at work.
Not my mom, but Maple has her recipes, her stories, and her eyes. It’s close enough.
I stay there, staring, for several long moments. The kitchen bustles around me—whisking, chopping, yelling, running. Maple turns, her eyes lock with mine, and recognition flickers behind them.
“You need a drink,” Maple says.
I nod wordlessly.
“And… maybe a slice of cherry pie?”
I nod again.
Moments later, she ushers me into the office with both things in hand.
The office is clean now—largely my doing—and organized—also me.
It’s not a room any of us spends much time in, but it’s still cozy.
It houses the inventory of our potions and drinks, Juniper’s wooden desk, and several obscure paintings on the walls.
I stare at the pink drink she sets in front of me. Anything my sister gives me is charmed with good intentions, something to perk me up, but I have to force myself to sip on it. Maybe I don’t want to perk up.
“What happened, sweetie?” Maple asks.
I shake my head. “I-it’s nothing.”
“Which usually means it’s everything, huh?” She strokes my hair delicately. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, and Maple looks unsurprised.
“Then eat the pie.” She gestures to the plate.
That’s easier, forking a small bite of pie into my mouth and chewing thoughtfully.
I don’t want to talk about it. Not to Maple, not to anyone. It’s always been easier to let my feelings sit on my chest, not to give them to the people I care about, but I can’t keep holding back.
“I’m in love with Seth.”
It’s as if the words don’t belong to me at all; they leave my mouth even though I try desperately to push them right back down. It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud, and I regret it in an instant, but there’s no taking it back.
It’s done. It’s out.
Her eyes are as round as the moon.
“I’ve always been in love with him.” I’m saying it to more than just Maple. I admit it to the room, to the ghosts, to the gods. Anything to get it off my chest. “And I know he’ll never love me. How could he?”
I’m dull compared to cool, mysterious Victoria, and certainly to passionate, wild Scarlet. Dave, so creative and warm and full of life, has more to offer than I do—he shouldn’t be interested in me either.
It has nothing to do with Laurel. I understand that now. It was easier to blame her, to blame whatever fictional feelings he may have had for her, but it has always been about me.
“And why couldn’t he?” Maple tilts her head. “You never know until you ask.”
“The better question is… why would he?”
“I asked first. Why couldn’t he love you, Rowan? You’ve been loved before, even if you’re not the type to take your partners home. So… why not again? Why not him?”
“I don’t think this is a constructive conversation.”
“No, but I mean it.” She giggles. “How can he know to consider that he loves you if… well, you haven’t told him, have you?”
I bite my lip. “Not yet. Probably never.”
“Maybe you should. Even if you get an answer… well, you’d have an answer, right? That’s a good thing.”
“Even if it’s not the answer I want?”
She nods. “And I know Seth. I know you. You’d still be able to be friends, even if he doesn’t feel the same.”
She’s half right. I’m friends with my exes. I could repress my feelings and remain friends with him, but Seth… I’ve witnessed how he runs from every love gone wrong. Do I want that to be what becomes of us?
More importantly, can I truly keep repressing for his comfort?
“Don’t forget your snack,” Maple says.
Of course, she’s thinking about dessert at a time like this. I take another bite just to appease her and consider what she said…
The pie is delicious. Sweet and tangy with a flaky crust. I close my eyes and, for a moment, savor it. The tension releases from my shoulder.
Maybe she’s right. Seth needs to know how I feel, and it doesn’t have to change anything about our friendship.
Or maybe someone slipped me a charmed dessert. Heavens above.
I narrow my eyes at Maple. “Is this…?”
“Confidence pie?” She nods, ever the smug kitchen witch. “I had a feeling you could use a little of it.”
And Maple was right. I finish the pie, eating every last crumb, and then…
I need to find Seth, wherever he is—probably not wandering around the streets anymore, I would imagine. I push my way out of the tavern, where snow now falls in full force, and find myself face-to-face…
With him. A red beanie covers his dark hair, which pokes out beneath the hat, and snow coats his long lashes. There’s a slight flush of color across his nose and cheeks, and when he looks at me with smoldering eyes, I fear I’m blushing from head to toe.
Seth Bautista, with no magic of his own, has lit me on fire.
“Ro.” His voice cracks.
And my heart breaks open. For him. It’s always been for him.
“I… I was coming to find you.”
He lets out a surprised laugh and steps closer. “God. I was, too. I almost missed you. If I had been a few seconds later, you would have been gone. And I would lose my nerve.”
Of course, it’s fate—the fates have always enjoyed playing little games, and I’ve never felt them stronger than I have in this moment. A magical force has been driving us together all along, and I’m the thing that’s been delaying it.
But there’s one thing, one word he uses, that catches my attention.
“What nerve have you been working up?” I ask. “I’ve always known you to be quite a confident man.”
“I definitely try to be.”
Yet there’s something between us. Too much space. Too much left unsaid. I’m the one who needs to pluck up the courage this time, and I will.
I step closer.
He doesn’t back away.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “for making so many assumptions about you. I know you. My assumptions are about me—things I’m working through—not you.”
He shrugs. “You usually know me too well. You’re allowed to be wrong at least one time.”
I don’t care about whether I’m wrong or right anymore. Seth’s past is in the past; the present has been pushing us together.
For the first time in my life, I don’t care. No anxiety. No nagging thoughts.
I’m free. And I want to see what he sees in me—if there’s anything to see.
“I don’t want to assume anymore. I want to know you, and I want you to know me. It isn’t easy for me to let people in, but for you, I’ve always wanted that.”
He blinks. “I want that too. I feel like—like I already do. Don’t I?”
“Maybe I’m saying this wrong. About Laurel—”
“It’s never been about Laurel. That’s what I came to say, and I mean it. My friendship with her is important to me. She’s important to me. But you are too. You always have been. I’m sorry if I didn’t make you feel that way.”
“Then who is it about? Why… why don’t you see how I look at you, Seth?”
He blinks. “How… how you…”
I force myself to hold my head high, and he lets out a soft, shaky breath, his intense gaze meeting mine. His lips part. Rather than look away as I have so many times before, I hold his stare.
“It’s not about that,” he says. “There’s no one. It’s just everything else. All the things you already know. My family. My hex. My everything.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest and spreads through my fingers.
I take his hand, letting it flow to him, sharing everything I have.
All of my magic. All of my love. “None of that is enough to make me stop wanting you, and that doesn’t mean you have to want me back, but I need it to be known. I can’t keep hiding.”
“I—I wouldn’t want you to.”
“Good.”
I stand on my tiptoes, giving him plenty of time to pull away, but he doesn’t. There’s no surprise in his features. His free hand moves to my cheek, resting there as my eyes flicker shut and our soft lips meet.
Gentle.
Determined.
Somewhere, someone gasps. They squeak, and we pull away, our eyes wild as Farrah Poole shuffles inside. If I had words to share, I would probably apologize to her—no one wants to watch a couple of people kissing on the sidewalk, no matter how brief it is.
But I’m wordless. Breathless. Instead, I laugh. Surprised.
And that should be the end of it, but it isn’t.
“Fuck it,” he grunts.
This time, he grabs my face in both hands and leans in again, kissing me. Harder. He’s answering a question I still haven’t found the nerve to ask, one I’m too afraid of, no matter how many bites of that pie I had.
I push my tongue into his mouth and finally get a good taste. The groan he lets out warms my bones more than magic ever could.
Maybe this is how we break the hex.
But of course, it isn’t, and that’s the thought that brings it all crashing down.
He peers down at me, and rather than finding the desire I want to see reflected in his eyes… there’s an apology. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
One kiss, two kisses, it changes nothing. He’s still hexed. And if what Maple says is true, if Seth wants me, we need to do it right. Whatever we’re to become can’t begin until he’s ready, and he’s not.
Not yet.
“I know,” I say. “So… find me when you figure it out.”