Chapter 9
nine
brIDGET
MARCH 11
I only thought I loved Enchanted Hollow during the day.
But tonight it’s a whole new experience.
The hustle and bustle of people pressing against each other as they shop the wares offered and sample the food and drink strewn all over the streets of the square. Different bands rotate across the stage they’ve temporarily erected and the town is aglow with golden hour light. Someone wove lights through the trees lining the sidewalks and they switched on a little early, rotating between warm white and green lighting. They’ll be extra magical when the sun finally dips below the horizon. Warm sugar and spices float in the air, mingling with laughter and chatter.
I’m having more fun than I have in a long time, but I don’t want to admit that out loud to Weston.
After breakfast yesterday, we were surprised by an opening day parade for the Shamrock Shuffle with musicians, floats and the Enchanted Hollow High School marching band. Without my planner in hand, I forgot there was one and we spent the time after just seeing what there was to do.
No plans.
Weston felt sorry that Bailey missed out on the fun and brought him with us today. The town wide scavenger hunt has been far more entertaining than I expected it to be. I’ve snuck him more than one piece of food, quickly googling beforehand to make sure I wasn’t about to accidentally poison Weston’s best friend.
“Are you sure we don’t need to sit down?” I ask again for the fifth time in probably twenty minutes.
He’s not really showing signs that he’s hurting, but I’m learning quickly that Weston doesn’t hesitate to put me first. Even though it’s only been a couple of days, he’s showing me that people can be full of good surprises.
I’m wary, but I can feel a flicker of the hope that Laila and Ella never stop talking about. That doesn’t mean I’m okay with him hurting himself though. He’s got a career to factor in and I’m only here for a week.
“I’m fine, Bridget,” he insists. He’s stubborn and probably determined since we’re down to our last scavenger hunt clue.
I don’t need to see it again to pull the clue straight from memory:
Find where the world between worlds grows thin,
A circle of green, where wishes begin.
“This whole town is magical. ‘Where the world between worlds grows thin’. My first thought is the wishing well, but we’ve already been there.”
“It’s got to be a faerie ring,” he mutters.
“And what does that look like?”
“You believe in magic, but don’t know your folklore.” He shakes his head, heading toward a wooded trail behind the downtown area.
He’s got a point, but I’m not about to tell him that. “I like that album. Evermore too. They’re sister albums, you know.”
“But you prefer Speak Now.”
I stumble over a rock and stare at his back. “Says who?”
“The house.” He chuckles. “I swear it played half the album last night while I was cooking dinner. And before you say anything, I finally started looking up the songs because some were getting familiar. Never expected to be held hostage in an enchanted rental with a Swiftie but here we are. Right Bailey?”
Weston is also exhausting. The second I think I’m starting to figure him out, he shifts and surprises me again.
I don’t love surprises.
My foot slips in a small patch of mud. “That’s not good,” I grumble.
“What’s wrong?” He stops and glances over his shoulder.
“Mud on my shoe.”
“Toss them in the wash when we get back.”
He takes a step forward and I stare at his back. “I can’t wash these in a washer. Are you kidding?”
“I told you to wear your tennis shoes,” he yells back in a sing-song voice.
He’s right. He did.
“They didn’t go with this outfit,” I grumble.
He literally came into my room before we left and went through my closet and drawers, yanking out yoga pants and an Ever After Farms tee, gesturing wildly that I was entirely too worried about what to wear for a scavenger hunt.
Granted, I was probably taking awhile to get ready but I like to look nice. It’s not a crime. And maybe I was taking a little too much consideration for how I wanted to look for Weston. Something I shouldn’t be doing.
But he seems to like the way I look in green, because I can tell the difference when I wear it. Which is fair because it brings out the green in my eyes. I like it, too.
Andrew hated the color in general, so some of my favorite shirts collected dust in the back of my closet.
I at least conceded and wore jeans. But my shoes are definitely not what someone wears to traipse through the forest.
“I can practically hear you thinking back there. Get the move on, Spitfire! We’re wasting daylight.”
I sigh, and speed up because again, he’s not wrong.
“So, remind me what we’re looking for again?”
“A ring of mushrooms, Spitfire. Where faeries dance. We’re looking for one with a tree, a tethered ring.”
I sigh. “You’re creeping back into First Down, Last Nerve territory again. Do you keep all of this written down somewhere or do you just store random trivia away for a rainy day?”
We’re walking deeper into the trees where moss grows over random rocks and overturned tree trucks. I miss when I was younger and it was easier to buy into the idea of a magical forest where unicorns might exist. This would definitely fit the bill.
“Some of us enjoy winning at trivia night,” he says.
“I’ve never gone to a trivia night,” I mutter.
Just ahead, off to the left, something catches my attention and I dart ahead, my shoes crunching on the forest floor. I crouch by a perfect circle of mushrooms nestled beneath an ancient oak.
“Well, look at that. You found it.”
“We found it,” I correct him. Without his insistence that we participate in this event, I wouldn’t be sitting here under a canopy of tree limbs.
The moment sits quietly between us. Even Bailey seems to appreciate the gravity of whatever we’ve stumbled on, as he sits obediently next to Weston's bad knee. We can’t sit here long because it’s getting dark fast. Thankfully we’re not too far from downtown, but I don’t want Weston to trip over something.
“Smile,” he says, and I glance up to see him pointing his phone at me.
We’ve traded off taking photos with the found items of the clues all day, but somehow this feels different.
“Shouldn’t we take this together? It’s the last clue.” I stand unsteadily, careful to not step on a mushroom.
“Sure.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, we can do that.”
I step into him, slightly leaning into his shoulder. The photo would look better if his arm was around me, a trick I’ve learned from Laila, but that’s a strange request. So I keep my mouth closed and smile into the front facing camera while he snaps the photo. I’d be blind to not recognize how great we look together.
But I’m not here for that.
I’m here to find… me.
“So what do we do now?” I ask, taking a couple of steps backward out of his spicy amber scent, cozy like a bonfire. “Do you step inside it? Make a wish?”
He pockets his phone and frowns down at me. “No. Not unless you want to get dragged to the Otherworld.”
I press my lips together. Sure, my frame of reference of faeries basically consists of Tinker Bell and she doesn’t seem all that dangerous.
“You can’t be serious.” I roll my eyes.
“I am. You can only go in on a full moon. That’s when it’s considered good luck. Any other time is bad luck.” There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes me realize he’s being serious.
“We’ve already been over this.” I shrug. “I don’t believe in luck.”
His jaws ticks once before he speaks. “Spitfire, it doesn’t matter if I believe it. I respect that other people do. So you won’t see me stepping inside a faerie ring outside a full moon, or trying to capture a leprechaun. You know they’re a protected species?” He nods toward the tree behind me.
There’s a small hole in the trunk of the tree at the base that’s shaped like a door.
“A leprechaun door?” I ask.
“Ah, so you do know some folklore. There’s hope for you yet.”
I half expect for there to be a big gust of wind or strange whispers surrounding us. But there’s nothing except the quiet of this space and Irish music in the distance. Only slightly disappointed, I walk over to it, careful to not cross the faerie ring.
Not that I’m worried about being captured.
I crouch down to look at the space, and let out a gasp. Instead of a hollow space, there’s a tiny wooden door. The paint is faded and chipped but it’s as real as the two of us.
“There’s actually a door here, Weston.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he comes closer. “Maybe the town put it here?”
“It’s possible.”
This town definitely plays up all the folklore and magic that exists here, so I wouldn’t put it past them to make it a bit more theatrical.
“It’s pretty cool, either way,” he says. “Let's get back.”
I nod, pushing to my feet.
Magic has been an undeniable piece of my life for the last six months. Specifically in my life since I arrived. Sometimes things just don’t have an explanation, but they’re plenty real.
Weston glances back at me and grins before heading back down the trail.
Maybe it’s time that I accept that there’s something between Weston and I. It doesn’t have to make sense.
It’s just there.
Of all the things I’ve seen since I came back to Enchanted Hollow six months ago, that scares me the most.