Chapter 5
WINDY
I slide into the passenger seat of Wallace’s truck, the leather crinkling under me as I settle in, showing its age. The truck smells of sandalwood and something faintly metallic, a scent that’s both familiar and foreign.
In moments, we’re speeding out of the coffee shop’s parking lot. I cast a sidelong glance at Wallace, whose focus is on the road ahead, his hands gripping the wheel with a quiet intensity.
Why has his entire vibe shifted?
I frown. Something within me stirs uneasily, a nagging feeling that things aren’t quite as they seem.
Of course, nothing is as it seems. I’m a witch who can’t control her powers, being forced to kiss three guys and taking orders from a bird!
But why is everything falling into place so quickly?
A flicker of doubt dances at the edges of my mind.
Wallace has fallen into my path so effortlessly, as if guided by some unseen hand. The coincidence is almost too perfect, too good to be true.
Nothing ever works out for me, why is it now?
We merge onto the highway, the cityscape fading behind us as we head toward Spells Hollow. I expect Wallace to fill the silence with chatter, to break the quiet with his easy laughter and witty banter. But he remains strangely quiet, his gaze fixed on the road, his thoughts a mystery I can’t quite decipher.
What if he knows more about Spells Hollow than he’s letting on?
Am I safe?
I consider what if I’m not. After all, I don’t know Wallace that well. I am considering sending a quick ‘in case I die’ text to Charlie, but how can I do that? What would I say? Hey, sorry, I know you like Wallace, but we’re running away to some obscure town and he’s acting weird, so if I die it’s his fault? I can’t do that to her.
Indie music fills the truck, its haunting melodies wrapping around me like a cocoon.
Wallace reaches over, his fingers brushing against mine before intertwining with them.
It’s a silent gesture that ordinarily would be sweet and confirming this connection that I thought is blooming between us, or even comforting and reassuring, but instead, it only amplifies my unease.
Why isn’t he saying anything?
I guess I haven’t said anything yet either…
I look out the window, the passing scenery a blur of greens and blues. The road stretches ahead, a ribbon of asphalt leading us closer to Spells Hollow and the unknown that awaits us there. Doubt gnaws at me, the weight of my quest pressing heavily on my shoulders.
What if Spells Hollow is more dangerous than the internet implied?
My mind began racing with unsettling possibilities. The warnings of crimes didn’t seem that heavy — but what if it is more than that? If I’ve learned anything in this life, it is that nothing is as it seems, and anything worthwhile is going to be hard… An abandoned city holding the flower I need to get my powers back seems too easy.
My thoughts don’t stop there. Despite my cool demeanor, my heart is pounding as my mind is spiraling.
What if I’m putting Wallace’s life at risk?
The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a cold dread settling in the pit of my stomach. For some reason, this is even more frightening than Wallace not being trustworthy.
Despite the newness of this connection, I care about Wallace. I like the way his eyes hold me, his eagerness to go on this adventure, even if I question his motives. His attention — and I hate myself for even feeling this way — lights me up and makes me feel a little bit more alive. The idea of jeopardizing his safety, of dragging him into this mess without fully understanding why I want to go there, fills me with guilt and apprehension.
Almost as much guilt as I feel for stealing him away from Charlie.
Goddamn it. I’m a terrible person.
I steal another glance at Wallace, his profile illuminated by the sun shining through his window. He seems lost in thought, his expression unreadable. His thumb is drawing slow circles inside the palm of my hand.
“So…” I say, eager to break this uneasy silence.
“Do you like Indie music?” he asks.
“Uh…”
Before I could answer, he switched the music playing. “I think you’ll like this band.”
Well, maybe I would, but my mind can't hear the lyrics.
As we continue to drive, the silence between us stretches on, punctuated only by the haunting melodies of the music and the hum of tires on asphalt. The distance between us feels both literal and metaphorical, a chasm widening with each passing mile.
I grip Wallace’s hand a little tighter, seeking comfort in his presence, hoping that I can trust him.
Please don’t hurt me…