Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Dear Journal (NOT a fucking diary!),
It’s me again. Fuck, this is weird. I’m not sure if I’m writing to myself or to some invisible entity that reads these entries like a creepy priest in a texting-only confessional.
Eventually, I suppose I’ll get used to this.
It is kind of nice to keep a record of what’s happening in my life right now though.
It’s been busy, and in an actually good way. Surprise to me!
The Wright Cut is coming together beautifully, and I can’t wait to open my door to clients.
I’ve been reading a real good book, Curl Me, Maybe: A Stylist’s Guide to the Hair and Fur of Otherkind, and gaining a lot of valuable info on how to work with the residents of Mystic Hollow. I’m kind of excited for the challenge.
My nightmares still fucking suck, but I’m not having them as often as I was before I came to Mystic Hollow.
Hal’s feeding me every chance he gets, and I’ve gained back some of the weight I lost from the stress of the last year.
I’m feeling healthier than I have in years.
I never met a sasquatch before coming here, but Hal’s pretty cool and he doesn’t scare me despite his size.
I consider that a win. He and Astraea both seem concerned about my well-being and…
I kind of don’t know what to do with that.
It’s been so long since anyone cared about me in that way.
I’m trying not to push them away—I know that’s just a self-protection instinct to avoid getting hurt again.
See? Therapy has helped and I can admit that. Dr. P would be thrilled.
The countdown is on until opening day, and I’m working long hours getting everything ready. I want it to be perfect. Finally, after all this time, I’m making my dream come true.
I won’t fail at this, right?
—Skylar Wright’s Personal Journal
Skylar
The warm light emanating from the front windows of the B&B is a comforting beacon of welcome. Much to my surprise, that’s what the big old Victorian is starting to feel like—home.
I climb the steps to the front porch and unlock the door.
When I step inside, I’m met by the mouth-watering aroma of whatever Hal’s cooked for dinner.
My stomach immediately growls, and I realize I was so busy earlier that I forgot to eat lunch.
Hal would worry himself silly if he knew.
In the short time I’ve been staying here, the big-hearted sasquatch has watched over me more closely than anyone since my grandma.
It’s all kinds of cute, but I have to wonder—Hal always seems so busy taking care of others, so who the hell takes care of him?
As if conjured by my thoughts, Hal steps out of the doorway leading to the kitchen. He’s wearing a new apron with rainbow hearts on it, and he flashes me a big, warm smile.
“Welcome back. Hope you’re hungry because I’ve cooked a feast.”
My traitorous stomach makes another loud noise, and I grimace.
I definitely won’t tell him I skipped lunch earlier.
Hal chuckles and gestures for me to follow him into the kitchen, where the breakfast nook is already set up for dinner.
A vase with fresh flowers from the garden is now in the center of the table.
It’s little touches like this that show me how much care Hal puts into his B&B.
I want to do the same with my own business.
“Grab a plate and we’ll serve ourselves at the stove, if you don’t mind,” Hal says.
“Sounds good to me.”
I make my way toward the food and inhale deeply. Everything smells amazing. He wasn’t lying about the feast part—I’m not sure how the two of us will eat all of this.
“I’m already drooling,” I tell him.
“I made extra,” Hal explains. “Earlier, I packed up and delivered some individual meals to a few of our elderly residents on the block. They don’t always have the means or the energy to cook well-balanced meals for themselves, so I try to provide one for them at least once a week or so.”
Not gonna lie, I stare at him, gobsmacked. “Are you working on gaining sainthood or something?”
He chuckles awkwardly. “Hardly. I just like helping out my friends and neighbors. And everyone should be able to enjoy a hot, home-cooked meal on a regular basis.”
“Is this a sasquatch thing? Or a more generally Otherkind thing?”
He looks at me quizzically. “Don’t humans do such things for each other?”
I scoff. “Not anyone I know. Not unless it’s a job they’re paid to do.” Then I shrug. “I suppose there were some cool volunteers at the soup kitchens I went to when I was younger, but they weren’t providing the food out of their own pockets.”
“Well, you can help me with my deliveries next time if you’d like. Then you’ll witness firsthand just how much it means to folks.”
Unable to say no and remembering Dr. P’s regular suggestion to keep an open mind, I nod. “Sounds like a plan.”
Hal gets that adorably bashful look on his face again, and my heart gives a weird little skip in my chest.
“Please help yourself to whatever looks good,” he encourages me, gesturing toward the food again.
I don’t stand on ceremony, quickly loading up my plate with a thick slice of meatloaf, a hefty serving of mashed potatoes, steamed green beans fresh from the garden, and roasted cauliflower.
To top it off, I pour a good helping of gravy over my potatoes, then head back to the table with my heavy plate.
Hal soon joins me and we tuck into our meal.
I can’t hold back a moan at the first mouthful. Damn. Every time I have a bite of Hal’s meatloaf, I can see why Baxter wanted an invite earlier. It’s honestly the best I’ve ever had. And the mashed potatoes are creamy, fluffy, comfort-food magic.
“Fucking hell, this is amazing, as always.”
He flushes with obvious pride. “Glad you like it. I’ve worked hard at perfecting my meatloaf recipe over the years.
I’m sure you’ve figured it out, but feeding folks is one of my favorite things in life.
Targan’s boyfriend and I sometimes trade recipes.
He’s an amazing cook, but an even better baker.
I think my homemade bread has gotten a lot better under his tutelage.
” He looks down at his plate. “Uh, sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. ”
“It’s okay. I like talking with you.” Then I frown. “Why are you nervous?”
His cheeks flush again. “Oh… uh… well, it’s just the two of us home tonight.”
My stupid heart does a strange little somersault in my chest, and I rub at my sternum.
“Uh… right. Astraea texted me earlier that she’d be back late.”
We both fall silent and turn our attention to our plates.
The vibe just got really fucking awkward, and I don’t know why.
After several long seconds of silence, Hal clears his throat and asks, “How did things go at the salon today?”
I startle for a second but then smile, my body relaxing.
“Great. The last of the hair products I ordered came in, so I was able to stock the display shelves and organize the supply room. The washbasins arrived and can be installed tomorrow, right on schedule. It’s finally all coming together, and the grand opening is right around the corner.
” Just saying the words sends a rush of pride through me.
Hal’s expression fills with warmth. “I’m so happy for you.”
For some reason, his simple but genuine sentiment gets me a little choked up.
“I never thought I’d be able to make this dream a reality,” I admit, my voice raspy. “Before coming to Mystic Hollow, it probably never would’ve been possible.”
Hal frowns. “Why not?”
“It’s kind of a long story, but suffice to say, I got involved with a shady piece-of-shit man who ruined my life, including my credit score.
He used my personal information to apply for several credit cards that he then maxed out.
” I shudder in recollection. “It became a whole thing, and it took forever to deal with the identity theft and fraud so that I wasn’t on the hook for his financial mistakes. ”
Hal’s eyes widen in shock. “Oh my goodness. How horrible. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
Me too. At one point, I wasn’t sure I could handle it anymore.
“Damien was a master manipulator. Like a schmuck, I fell for his act, so I suppose I’m partly to blame.
I was a fucking idiot for sharing my personal information with him the way I did.
But I trusted him.” I let out a bitter laugh.
“Anyway, it was too little too late when I realized just how much he’d screwed me over.
What could have simply been a nasty breakup turned into something a whole lot worse when I had to get the cops involved and press charges.
That’s when he got real fucking scary…” I trail off, recalling the screaming threats.
The stalking.
And later, the violence.
All things considered, I was super damn lucky.
In the end, I got away before he could follow through with his death threats, and I only ended up with a few fractured ribs, a broken nose, and a mild concussion.
The assault on top of the fraud provided even more damning evidence to put the asshole behind bars.
Granted, he probably won’t be there for that long with our screwed-up justice system, but now he’ll never be able to hurt me again. I’m already pretty committed to making Mystic Hollow my forever home and never leaving. Its protective magic is just a bonus.
Hal’s expression becomes clouded with concern. “Was he… abusive?”
The note of pain in his voice touches something deep inside of me, and I hurry to look away. I don’t know why, but Hal’s been making me feel a lot of mystifying things lately.
My answering shrug is jerky and defensive. “It was mostly emotional abuse and coercion. Things didn’t turn physical until the end. I filed charges and hid out with some people I knew until Damien was arrested.”
It had been a terrifying couple of weeks while I was healing from the assault. The whole time, I still was scared that Damien would manage to find me and finish what he’d started.
Never again.