Chapter Seven #2
My heart thudded unevenly. My hand went slack around the donut. “It took a couple tries,” I said again, voice a little breathless. “But the last one should work.”
“Then we’re one step closer to not getting eaten by whatever that thing in the shop was,” he said. His gaze dipped to my lips as if pulled. “And we can test it at the tree today.”
“Yeah,” I said, half-dazed. “That’s… what I was thinking, too.”
On some ridiculous impulse, I lifted what remained of the donut. “Want a bite?”
I expected a joke. Maybe a polite refusal.
Instead, Owen curled his fingers gently around my wrist and guided my hand toward his mouth, eyes never leaving mine as he took a slow bite from the same piece of donut.
Time hiccupped.
Warmth shot through me, sharp and startling. It was such a tiny thing—shared sugar between breaths—but it felt intimate enough to tilt the room.
“Owen—” I started.
He paused, close enough that his breath brushed my cheek. Questioning. Waiting.
Whatever I was about to say dissolved when he leaned in and kissed me.
His lips were warm and soft and the right amount of firm, tasting of coffee and chocolate and something that was him.
The world narrowed to the press of his mouth, the slide of his hand to my waist, the way my knees wanted to liquefy on the spot.
Preston had never kissed me like this—like I was something he’d wanted for a long time and was finally allowed to touch.
My fingers curled in the front of his shirt, holding on. For a second, there was no demon, no dead aunt, no gate. Just this.
When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, he was smiling.
“There,” he said.
My brain flailed. “What was that for?”
“You still had chocolate on your lips,” he said. “Thought I’d help you out with that.”
Heat flared in my face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You taste like chocolate donut,” he added.
“So do you,” I blurted. “And you’ve… been waiting a long time to do that, haven’t you?”
“Years,” he said simply.
“So you weren’t lying when you said you liked me.”
“I never lie,” he said. “I’m like Superman that way.”
“Oh yeah?” I managed. “What other superpowers you got?”
His grin turned wicked. “Guess you’ll have to find out in time, won’t you?”
“Hey, Piper—whoa.” A high, tinny voice sliced through the moment. “Heeeeeeey. Who’s the hottie?”
We jumped apart like guilty teenagers. Tani zipped into view in a streak of pink and glitter, then hovered between us, giving Owen a slow, unapologetic once-over.
“Oh,” she added thoughtfully. “You’re a very hottie.”
“Who’s this?” Owen asked, eyebrows lifting.
“Titania,” she said, landing on his shoulder and lounging there like a glamorous parrot. “But you can call me Titania.” She batted her lashes. “Or just… call me.”
I tamped down an irrational flare of jealousy. “Tani, this is Owen. He’s a friend.”
“Ohhh,” she added brightly. “You’re the one who’s been feeding Willow.”
“Nice to meet you, Tani,” he said, completely unfazed by the fairy currently draping herself across his collarbone.
“Titania,” she corrected primly. “And he looked like more than a friend, judging by the way you two were lip locked.”
“I thought you liked being called Tani,” I muttered.
“I do,” she said sweetly, eyes never leaving Owen. “Just not by Mr. Hottie Hot Hottie.” She flashed him another megawatt smile. “That name’s already taken.”
“You’ll have to excuse my fairy,” I said. “She’s… a lot.”
“I see that,” Owen said, amusement tugging at his mouth.
“You’re not freaking out that there’s a fairy in my basement?” I asked.
“Why should he be?” Tani demanded. “Rude.”
“Because normal humans don’t believe in fairies,” I said.
Tani planted her hands on her hips. “Is that an insult?”
“I think what she means is most people don’t believe,” Owen said smoothly. He met my gaze, steady and sincere. “But I do. In fairies. And magic.”
Something in my chest gave a small, startled flip.
Tani drifted away at last, finally noticing the chaos on the table. “Ohhh. Nice.” She nodded approvingly. “You figured out how to make the real potion.”
“I did,” I said. “Eventually.”
“You better get going,” Tani said, zipping close enough to tug on my tank top strap. “It’s already late. You have to get dressed and get to the hickory tree. I’ll stay here with Owen.”
“You’ll go back to wherever you came from,” I said firmly. “Owen and I are going to the hickory tree.”
Tani stuck out her bottom lip. “I can’t go? Alice always let me go.”
“I’m not Alice,” I said gently but firmly.
“Killjoy.” Tani blew a raspberry, then disappeared in a puff of pink dust.
Owen watched the empty air for a moment. “Maybe you should’ve let her come.”
“Maybe next time,” I said. “Right now, I need a shower, pants, and about six more donuts. Can you wait?”
“I’ll wait as long as I need to,” he said easily. “Go get heroic.”
I grabbed the donut bag and headed upstairs.
The hot water helped chase away the lingering ache in my muscles and the fog in my head, but it couldn’t wash off the weight of what I was about to do. Guardian. Gate. Crossroads town.
I dressed in baby-blue capris, a short-sleeved white cotton shirt, and—lesson learned—my worn-in Keds instead of anything with a heel. Practical over cute… this once.
When I came back down, Owen stood in the living room, studying the mantel. He turned when he heard me.
“You know,” he said, nodding toward the photos, “your aunt must have loved you a lot.”
I joined him, eyes tracing the frames. Baby me with frosting on my face. Kid me in a pink tutu. Me in my high school cap and gown. Then one from college, taken from a distance as if Alice had attended but stayed out of sight. Me with a suitcase, headed to Manhattan.
“There are pictures of everyone,” I said automatically.
“Not like this,” Owen said quietly. “She watched your life. Even when you weren’t here.”
It made my chest ache. “I sent her some of those from New York,” I said. “The others… she must have stolen from my parents’ stash.”
Or maybe from somewhere else. Somewhere between worlds.
I pushed that thought aside. “I should grab the potion.”
I ducked back to the basement, snatched the correct vial—labelled this time, thanks to Tani’s nagging—and slipped it carefully into my pocket. Willow was nowhere in sight. Probably off hunting or doing whatever cursed witches in cat bodies did on their afternoons off.
When I came back to the living room, I squared my shoulders. “Okay. Ready.”
Owen opened the front door for me, the afternoon light spilling across the worn threshold.
Together, we stepped out of the house and headed toward the hickory woods north of town—toward the ancient tree sitting at the place where paths overlapped and worlds touched, and toward whatever waited for me there.