Chapter Thirty-Three-Donny
I arrived at Hair Now, Gone Tomorrow only ten minutes late.
That was on me.
Well, mostly on me.
I’d been the one to beg for seconds.
And thirds.
And a side of Bear growling with extra whipped cream.
I was fully sated but walking like I’d just ridden a mechanical bull after a wine tasting.
Celeste arched a brow the moment I limped through the door.
“You alright? Did Gryn do something to your closet again?” she asked, taking in my outfit with a puzzled expression.
I looked down and—sweet tartlets of terror—I was wearing pale pink pants and a baby blue blouse.
I looked like a sad cotton candy cone melting in the sun.
“Holy forking crappuccinos!”
“No worries. I got this.” Celeste twirled her fingers, and a warm shimmer of magic flowed over me.
The pastel nightmare faded, replaced by rich mocha tones and golden accents that actually worked with my hair.
Like fall had exploded on me—in a good way.
“Thanks,” I muttered, smoothing the long tunic over my hips and slipping behind the front desk. “Where’s my first appointment?”
Celeste bit her lip. Uh-oh.
“Oh, uh, they canceled,” she said quietly.
“Canceled?” I echoed. “Did they say why?”
She shook her head.
Weird. No one ever canceled on me.
I was the stylist in Castor’s Corner.
People waited six moons and three eclipses to book with me. I didn’t even do kids' cuts unless they were related to the Mayor.
Something prickled at the base of my neck.
A tingle that had nothing to do with hair or fashion or even my incredibly sore, incredibly satisfied lady parts.
No. This was magic.
The bad kind.
I dropped into my seat, suddenly wide awake. With Gryn acting civil, Grandpa Al stuck in some kind of spiritual purgatory, and mysterious clients canceling out of the blue?
Something was coming.
And I’d need every bit of power—and pastry-fueled support—to deal with it.
But first?
I sipped the coffee Ryan had brewed and left for me in a thermos wrapped in a note that read:
Love you, Honey. Kick ass today.
-Ryan
I smiled. I could do that.
Sometime later.
Celeste hung up the phone with a soft sigh that sounded like defeat.
I didn’t have to ask.
I already knew.
My heart sank like a stone in a bubbling cauldron.
That was the sixth cancellation in under ten minutes.
“What the actual fork is happening?” I muttered, staring at my color-coded appointment book that was slowly bleeding red ink like it had sprung a leak in the space-time continuum.
My hands were shaking.
Not from rage.
Not even from panic.
From heartbreak.
This place—Hair Now, Gone Tomorrow—was more than a salon.
It was my legacy. My sanctuary.
The one damn thing I’d built with my own magic-stained hands. And now, it was unraveling in real-time like some kind of slow-motion hex.
“Donny!” Evie’s voice rang out like a bell, jolting me back to the present.
She was waving something wildly in her hand and barreling through the front door like a woman possessed.
“Look!” she gasped, breathless, shoving the paper in my face.
My fingers trembled as I snatched it. One glance and I felt the blood drain from my body.
It was a flyer.
Cheap paper.
Bad font.
And an even worse photo.
Henry the Hedgehog’s haircut—but mangled.
Violated.
Someone had gone over it with what looked like a damn weed whacker.
His soft spines were lopsided, jagged, and uneven, like he'd lost a bar fight with a rabid garden gnome.
Below the photo, bold black letters screamed across the page. The message was clear:
If you want to wind up bald, go to Hair Now, Gone Tomorrow, where the salon owner doesn’t care if she shaves your head and leaves you looking like hex victim!
“I didn’t do that to Henry!” I cried out, clutching the flyer to my chest like I could absorb the lie and strangle it to death.
Bella burst through the door next, bless her sugar-dusted soul, holding a pastry box like it was a life raft.
“Mrs. Fox brought that to me,” Evie said solemnly, nodding at the flyer. “But first, Bella brought reinforcements.”
“Here, have a Pumpkin Fudge Delight. You look like you’re about to eat someone,” Bella whispered.
She wasn’t wrong.
I yanked open the box, shoved two glorious pieces of pumpkin-chocolate magic into my mouth, and chewed like my life depended on it.
Fudge and spice flooded my senses, grounding me. The tears prickling my eyes receded a bit.
“Oh, the texture,” I moaned around the sugary mass. “The cinnamon. The blessed fork-tastic after burn.”
Celeste sidled closer, eyeing the box.
I growled low in my throat, snatched a third piece, then shoved the remains at her.
“Better?” Bella asked dryly, clearly unfazed by my emotional eating spiral.
“Yeah,” I grunted. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Honey!” Ryan’s voice boomed through the doorway a heartbeat later.
He stormed in, followed by Jaxson and Conrad.
Each of them held a different flyer in their hands.
More accusations.
More lies.
“This one says the crematorium failed inspection,” Jaxson growled.
“And this one says you’ve got rats,” Conrad added with a deadly frown.
Celeste gasped beside me, holding her flyer like it was dipped in poison.
“Someone’s trying to ruin you, Donny. This is a coordinated attack.”
No shit, Sherlock.
I wanted to scream, cry, zap someone into a new hair dimension and back.
I wanted answers. But more than anything, I wanted to know why? Why me?
Hair and magic were my things.
I wasn’t trying to be queen of the coven or start turf wars. I just wanted to make people feel beautiful and maybe charm their highlights to last six weeks longer.
Now, thanks to some malicious mystery menace, I was on the brink of losing it all.
And still, my people showed up for me.
Bella gave my hand a tight squeeze before marching outside, shouting something about a location spell and rounding up every flyer in a five-mile radius.
Conrad followed her like a silent, scaly guard dog.
Evie gave me a hug that felt like a warm blanket and whispered she’d follow up with Ivan about Grandpa Al.
And Ryan?
Ryan didn’t say much. He just stood behind me, his massive chest radiating calm and protection, one hand on my shoulder like a grounding tether.
When the last call came in—another cancellation—I closed my book.
Red lines slashed through every appointment like angry scars.
“This isn’t a fluke,” I whispered. “Someone is out to destroy me.”
“But they won’t succeed,” Ryan said, low and sure.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“No. They won’t. But I need to regroup.”
I turned to Celeste.
“Close up. I’m going home. You’ll get two weeks’ pay, but I can’t promise anything past that.”
“Donny—” she started.
“Don’t. It’s okay,” I interrupted gently. “I’m going to fix this. Somehow.”
Evie and Jaxson left after another round of hugs. I locked the doors to my salon with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of my magical lineage press on my shoulders like a crown I hadn’t realized I was wearing.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Ryan said again as he helped me into the truck.
I nodded, unable to speak.
My magic was buzzing, irritated and raw, sparking along my skin in angry flickers.
I curled up in my seat, cradling my hands in my lap.
I wasn’t weak.
I wasn’t broken.
But Gaia help whoever thought they could take me down without a fight.
“Home?” he asked softly.
“Yeah. I need a bath. And maybe a glass of wine the size of my head.”
“I’ll start dinner,” he said, kissing the back of my hand. “And we’ll figure out the rest together.”
He held my hand the whole ride back.
Said nothing else. Just let me exist.
He really was the best of men—and Bears.
I was one lucky Witch. I knew that.
And he was lucky, too. I mean, at my core I was a good person. I knew that too.
I just wished I didn’t have to come with a side of trouble.
Goddess, I was such a mess.
“Hey, you’re my mess, Honey, and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” Ryan said, kindness and humor lighting his warm eyes.
I loved the way he read my mind. And even more, I loved the way he loved me.
When we pulled into the driveway, I stared at my—our—little house like it was the last piece of solid ground in a storm.
Ryan opened the door, lifted me down like I was made of spun sugar and firelight, and looked into my eyes like I was still worth something even if the whole world had turned against me.
“Hungry?” he asked, his voice warm.
“For you,” I whispered.
Because yeah. I had things to fix.
Spells to cast.
Lies to destroy.
But first?
I needed my mate.
Wanted my big, strong Bear to make me feel good.
I was thinking a long, hot soak in a tub with him in it was just what this Witch ordered.
Let the world try to tear me down. I wasn’t done yet.
Not by a long shot.