Chapter 11
Mia was having a very strange morning.
The pigeons decided their only job that day was to resume their self-appointed role as annoyingly loud, feathery alarm clocks, and only stopped after she’d given up on the idea of sleep and stumbled to the bathroom.
The face that greeted her in the mirror was too pale, adorned with dark shadows from lack of sleep, and her eyes were red and gritty from too many tears.
She contemplated a soak in the bath with a cool cloth over her eyes – she had time – but pretty much every product she had came from Glimmers, and made her think of Aiden.
She was tempted to call in sick – to let her colleagues step in for her as she so often had for them.
It wouldn’t exactly be a lie: her throat was sore and she felt battered and beaten.
But she had patients and sitting around moping wasn’t very appealing.
She forced herself to shower quickly – using soap from her travel bag instead of anything he’d made – and did her best to hide how many hours she’d cried for with more make-up than she’d usually wear on a night out.
She stirred her coffee in a quick swirl, and glared at it when the random bubbles formed a lopsided heart in the cup.
She choked down toast that she didn’t really want – but she needed to eat ahead of the day – and steadfastly ignored the burnt bit that could, from certain angles, look like a letter A.
Aiden smiled, feeling Mia’s hair against his skin and her fragrance in his nose.
Then he woke up, and reality crashed back in, stealing away his peace and happiness.
Not that he deserved any of it. He’d already called in sick twice, and was starting to feel bad about lying to Ophelia…
although it wasn’t truly a lie: he felt worse than he could remember for a long time.
But he’d put it off for long enough, and decided to be brave and drag himself into work.
He got the feeling his decision was the right one when the keys he’d been looking for – admittedly half-heartedly – for most of the weekend suddenly turned up, innocently hanging from their usual hook.
It wasn’t exactly Hudsbury-level magic – but it was more than he’d expected outside of the town and enough for him to get the hint.
It was time to head to work and face the music.
Mia hadn’t replied to his message – not that he blamed her – and he didn’t know what to do to make it right.
Her silence made it very clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him, and he had to respect that.
It was the least he owed her when he’d hurt her so badly.
He’d behaved stupidly and cowardly and broken her trust: the one thing he’d known she couldn’t tolerate.
He’d tried to avoid dragging her into his drama – and instead he’d broken one of the most important friendships he’d ever had.
He was worse than the Triple D hopefuls who turned into toads.
She’d probably be happier if she never spoke to him again. And, as much as it hurt him, he owed her that much peace – and the chance to find the true love she dreamed of. Not just a dishonest friendship and Friday night fumbles.
So, he did the sensible and responsible thing and got ready, ignoring the burning pain over his back.
Mia snagged her tights on a plant by her garden gate – the bleeding-heart fuchsia, naturally – and swore fluently. While her skin was – thankfully – unscathed, she’d torn a hole in her tights that could be described as suspiciously heart-shaped.
By the time she’d changed and headed back to her car – this time giving the dratted plant a wide berth – she was well and truly losing her patience.
It didn’t help when she put the radio on, hoping to drown out the invasive thoughts, only to hear a song all about forgiveness and second chances.
Then, because she wasn’t having a bad enough morning, her stereo started glitching, and insisting on returning to that same station and song she didn’t want to hear every time she tried to change it.
She picked up her mail from reception when she arrived, along with a stack of scribbled phone messages, and sorted through them quickly in her office.
A couple of callbacks she needed to make, but those could wait until the pharmacist had worked through their urgent jobs.
She scribbled herself a few quick notes, then headed to the kitchen for another drink, making sure to avoid the biscuit tin and treats cupboard.
She wasn’t sure she could handle seeing any of the things she’d taste-tested and the rush of memories they’d bring.
She found it sitting on her desk, on the notepad she’d been scribbling on minutes earlier:
Courage. Talk. Hope.
She stared at the words for long moments, tracing their shape with her finger.
She was sure the pad had been empty before she’d started writing on it, and the words were in a beautiful copperplate – certainly not her handwriting, or any of the usual team.
She was still pondering them – feeling like the answer was right on the tip of her tongue – when her phone rang; that needed her attention far more than mystery notes.
It was probably just a colleague playing an early Halloween prank.
‘Hello, Nurse Howard speaking. How can I help? Sylvie? Hello, is everything OK? No, of course I don’t mind you calling. Yes, I can spare you a few minutes.’ Even if Mia was annoyed with her son, she certainly wasn’t going to take it out on his mum.
Aiden’s ride into work that morning – usually one of his favourite times of day – didn’t cheer him up. Hudsbury was, as usual, shrouded in mist, but instead of being a welcoming blanket, the damp seemed to seep under his leathers and chill him to the bone. It suited his mood.
He trudged along the street, barely looking up from his feet, but when he started up the small high street, something grabbed his attention, dragging his eyes up.
Call her
The words on the café window rearranged themselves.
Apologise
He shook his head. If only it was that simple.
Talk to Mia
The pub advised, while the sign stared down at him disapprovingly. But he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He’d already tried. There wasn’t anything else he could say.
He trudged into Glimmers, ignoring the grumbling of the pumpkins, and already wondering how he would get through the day. Even the usually welcoming tinkle of the shop chimes seemed muted and dull, and threads from the giant spider web clung and dragged at him.
He shoved them away and ducked as hazelnuts smacked him in the face. Just what he needed: the shop to be in a mood with him as well.
Then again, he probably deserved it: after all, it was his decisions that had brought him to this point. He’d hurt one of the most amazing women he knew.
The floorboards screeched at him and the triquetra knot hummed and glowed unpleasant colours as his boots hit it, and the apple tree rustled and shook its leaves before launching apples at him, and he was hit by a wave of dank nausea.
‘Out!’
He wondered what the cat had dragged in now.
‘Aiden.’ Ophelia strode towards him, grabbed him, and manhandled him towards the door. ‘Get out. Now.’
The shop around him seemed to vibrate, and pain flashed through his head, leaving his vision filled with spots. Crashes sounded around him as Ophelia shoved him back into the street.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You tell me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what in the bat dung is going on with you, but you cannot come back into Glimmers like this.’
‘Like what?’
‘This.’ She waved her hands vaguely around him.
His head felt muggy, and it was hard to concentrate. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘She means your mood, Dungbreath!’ one of the pumpkins helpfully added.
‘Stinks worse than a jack-o’-lantern left out till Yule!’ another agreed.
‘What?’
‘I warned you about your energy, Aiden.’ Ophelia stooped to pick something up and smacked it into his palm. ‘Because this is what happens when you don’t control it. Didn’t you feel the door guardian trying to warn you?’
Oh hell. ‘That’s what the hazelnuts and threads were?’
‘What the bat dung is going on?’
He stared at the thing she’d shoved into his hand. It looked like a crystal ball… apart from the dark, smoky crack down the middle of it. ‘I did that? Ophelia, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… How did I…?’
‘You… a gifted person… walked into Glimmers… a magic shop, Aiden, where everything is heavily charged and magically receptive… in a stinker of a mood with your energies wide open. If you weren’t someone the store usually welcomes, Glimmers might have actually attacked you!’
‘Really?’
Do you think we would joke? Mist had slunk out of the door and was pressed tightly against Ophelia’s legs, her fur puffed up and ears flattened as she watched him.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘I know you are.’ Ophelia sighed. ‘Like I said… you have to watch your energies. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
‘I can’t.’ He didn’t even know how to start explaining everything – but he did know he wouldn’t betray Mia again.
‘Suit yourself. Clear off then.’
‘Ophelia, I’m really sorry…’
‘I know you are. It happens. Rarely, thankfully, but it happens. You need to recentre yourself and your energies. You’re no good to me or Rayenne like this.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘Take a walk. Meditate. Paddle in the river and let it wash this funk away. But clear your head, Aiden, because you cannot work like this. Not in Glimmers.’
‘Right. OK.’ He started trudging away.
At least he was stopped before he made it to the kitchen. I only dread to imagine the carnage he would have caused in the heart of his power.
‘Good point. Aiden, I strongly suggest you don’t try baking anything in the café either. In fact, you should stay away from kitchens in Hudsbury entirely until you’ve got your head on straight!’
He nodded and pulled his collar up.