Chapter Twenty-Nine-Donny
I looked up at Ryan, his golden-brown eyes steady on mine, calm like the earth after a storm. I didn’t say a word, but something passed between us—hot, sure, and ancient.
A promise.
A tether.
And the second he dipped his chin in that almost imperceptible nod, my insides turned molten.
Oh yeah.
This wasn’t just lust.
It wasn’t even just magic.
He was big. He was steady. He was special.
And if I played my cards right—and stopped letting fear dictate my every damn move—he was going to be mine.
But first, I had work to do.
Unfinished business.
Someone I had to help.
Someone I maybe owed.
I turned toward the girls where they stood a few yards away, laughing and chatting with our Shifter shadows, and my voice came out sharper than I intended.
“When I went to the cemetery today, I saw Grandpa Al.”
Everything stopped.
“Grandpa Al?” Bella echoed. “He’s back? How is that even possible?”
“Well, he never left, actually.” I folded my arms, feeling the weight of the truth settle in again.
“He’s stuck here. Something—or someone—is blocking him from moving on.”
“What?” Evie blurted, her voice rising like a struck bell. “That’s impossible!”
I frowned.
Excuse you, Mayor Witchy Pants, I wasn’t finished.
Evie came storming toward me, dragging Jaxson with her like a stylish anchor.
Bella and Conrad followed, and for once, sweet little Bells looked downright pissed. She hated it when I called her that, but it never stopped me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I saw her that angry. She wasn’t even blinking.
“What do you mean he’s stuck?” Evie asked, leaning back into Jaxson like he was a wall made just for her.
I watched, quietly surprised. My girl, the most stubborn of the three of us, was letting someone hold her up.
And more than that—she looked stronger for it.
Huh.
Growth.
I liked it.
Bella ran her fingers through her blonde curls like they held the answers to all our questions, while Conrad stood at her side practically vibrating.
The Python Shifter looked ready to coil up and squeeze someone if she gave the word.
And that’s when it hit me.
It didn’t have to be just us three Witches against the world anymore.
Maybe, just maybe, our Trifecta had found its match.
Three magical misfits.
Three unexpected Shifters.
A supernaturally fated support system we didn’t even know we needed.
I turned back to Ryan and caught his smirk.
He knew exactly what I was thinking.
Cheeky bastard.
I shared everything I could remember from the cemetery.
Every flicker of Grandpa Al’s ghost, every tremble of the earth, every whispered plea.
By the time I was done, Bella’s eyes were glassy and Evie was chewing her lip like she wanted to hex someone yesterday.
“We should go to the cemetery,” Jaxson said, protective instincts practically radiating from him.
Evie nodded. “I’ll get Ivan.”
“He’d already faded when I left,” I reminded them gently. “But I get it. I’d want to check for myself, too.”
The next few minutes were a whirlwind of whispered plans and hushed panic.
We were all shaken, but determined.
The party—such as it was—had dissolved into spell books and strategy.
Bella was already muttering incantations under her breath.
Conrad was tapping furiously into something on his enchanted tablet.
Jaxson was making lists.
We decided to reconvene in the morning, all of us needing rest—and maybe a pastry or three.
“Where should we meet?” Evie asked.
“The Tasty Tart?” I said too fast.
Ryan’s grin was instant.
“Oh? And that’s definitely because it’s on the way to work and not because you’ve been depriving yourself of lattes and turnovers for days?” he whispered.
“Brat,” I muttered, cheeks heating as the rest of the group started to disperse.
The cleanup was already underway.
Celeste and her date—the one who was wearing a novelty sushi hat, because of course he was—were waving goodnight.
Volunteers magicked away the decorations and confetti.
The firehouse was back to business and quiet in minutes.
Just me and Ryan now.
The moon was high, and the stars were doing their twinkly magic thing when we walked side by side to his truck parked outside the cemetery gates.
His shiny, royal blue pickup sparkled under the streetlamps like it belonged in a Hallmark movie featuring small-town Shifter mechanics with tragic pasts and big hands.
I kinda magicked it back for him since I didn’t let him drive me earlier.
“Hop in, Honey,” he murmured.
The rumble of his voice, low and intimate by my ear, sent a shiver skating down my spine. I didn’t question it. I just felt it.
The rightness.
Plus, I liked his truck.
Didn’t expect that.
To be fair, I didn’t expect him, either.
“Wanna drive?” he asked as he opened the door for me.
I blinked. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
His grin was wicked, dimples flashing.
Holy fork.
I was smitten. Head to toe, broom to bones, starry-eyed smitten.
Without thinking twice, I reached for the lever and shoved his seat all the way back, then climbed in—right into his lap.
“I was gonna move over to the passenger side,” he said, sounding more amused than shocked.
I settled in, wiggling just a little, purely for the science of it.
His hands instinctively came to rest on my hips like they belonged there.
Spoiler alert: they did.
“You work the pedals,” I said, fingers curling around the steering wheel. “I’ll handle the wheel.”
He let out a low growl, not angry—aroused.
“Dangerous game, Witch.”
“Yeah?” I whispered, heart hammering. “Good thing I like to play with fire.”
I didn’t tell him I’d stopped fighting fate.
Didn’t tell him that I’d started believing in what we were.
I didn’t have to.
Because with his arms around me and my hands on the wheel, we drove off together into the Castor’s Corner night—headed straight toward trouble, destiny, and maybe, just maybe, forever—I had a feeling my big, growly, sexy as sin Bear Shifter knew.
His chest rumbled behind me, and yeah, I was positive he knew.