Chapter 8
Ihad already decided I didn't want to meet with Ethan in the boardroom before I received his text suggesting we meet upstairs so we could chat privately. I’d managed to stumble to the bedroom the night before and grab a solid ten hours of rest.
In the light of morning, I looked at the house with fresh eyes. I’d thought someone had gone through the effort to guess my tastes and decorate for me. But more than one of the division heads had referred to this space as House, like it had its own personality. Or magic.
“Good morning, House. Thank you for making me feel so welcome.” A surge of joy pushed through me, like a child receiving praise for cleaning their room. There was an air of familiarity in here I hadn’t noticed before.
I was starting to put some puzzle pieces together.
For some reason, I’d forgotten most of what I knew about Treater’s Way when I left for college.
There was a crucial memory clawing at the back of my mind, eager to come out, but it felt blocked.
And, given that everything surprised me and yet somehow felt familiar, I suspected magic was the culprit.
“I’m looking forward to getting to know you again.” A wave of nostalgia warmed my chest. Apparently, the house felt the same.
Something clattered in the kitchen. When I went to investigate, I found a charming drink nook in the corner by the breakfast table. I didn’t remember it from the day before. Maybe it wasn’t there.
Fresh coffee gurgled from a full pot, its inviting aroma making my stomach grumble in return. A small tray of pastries sat on a pretty, pink plate. At the center were two large, blueberry muffins. I lifted one, warm in my palm, and took a bite.
There was something about food, eaten at the right times or in the right way, that sparked emotions. I could never be one of those people who viewed it strictly as fuel. A fresh aroma. A tart berry on your tongue. The lift of your mouth when you chewed.
It’s like it sends you back in time or cements a moment inside you.
“I used to bring these to Ethan, didn’t I? After our morning workouts, we’d sit on the bleachers and chat and eat a blueberry muffin.” Looking back, we’d been better friends than I realized. But we’d kept it a secret.
Maybe Ethan could tell me why.
The breakfast corner overlooked the back garden.
When Ethan arrived, we settled there. I cracked a window to let in a soft breeze, thanking the house for providing it.
It was mid-July, but this was the temperature other parts of the country must refer to as spring.
As much as I loved Louisiana, it wasn’t because of the weather.
“You look better this morning.” Ethan’s eyes lit up at the muffin I passed him from across the table. We ate in silence for a few moments, enjoying the birds chirping and the dim laughter that lifted its way up from the Wellness Center.
“It’s funny.” Ethan toyed with the mug of coffee I hadn’t noticed appear in front of him.
“Growing up, I always wanted a reason to come here. Back then it was just the therapy center. When I was fourteen, I begged my dad to bring me with him. He was Agatha’s lawyer for years.
He let me, and one of these delicious muffins popped onto a counter for me. ”
He took a big bite, making exaggerated “mmm” sounds as he chewed.
“After that, you brought me one once a week when I’d see you on the track.”
“Thank the house, not me.” I shoved the last of my muffin into my mouth, washing it down with the most perfect cup of coffee I’d ever had. “I know I dropped my mom here for work before school, and the bag would be waiting for me on her desk. I can’t tell you if I knew how it got there or not.”
I let comfortable silence hang between us. I had so many questions, but part of me wasn’t ready to start asking. I needed to take my time. Ethan, for his part, seemed content to wait.
“Can we start with the easy stuff?”
Ethan chuckled, wiping his mouth on a napkin and laying it over his plate.
“I’m not sure there is easy stuff.”
“That’s fair.” I took a breath. “Why did we keep our friendship a secret when we were in school together?”
“You remember that?” A flicker of pain passed through his eyes.
“The muffin brought it back,” I said, gesturing at my crumbs.
“That’s not an easy answer.” Ethan took a sip of his coffee, then grimaced as if it were suddenly bitter.
“Was it Lauren?”
“Only partly. It was also …” Ethan’s voice trailed, and he shifted in his chair. “You really don’t remember why?”
I closed my eyes, trying to peer behind the curtain that shielded me from the past. The breakfast, and my talk with Gumbo, had it cracked. It would take a lot of effort to pull it all the way back. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“It was Ray, wasn’t it?” Just saying his name was like stabbing myself in the heart with Cupid’s rusted arrow.
A brief fling senior year should not hurt this bad.
But it had sent me running, and Ethan was part of that.
Nope, I definitely didn’t want to go there yet.
“Okay, new question. What does mental health have to do with pedicures?”
“That sounds like the start of a very bad joke.”
“Or a good one,” I said. We laughed together, and with each snicker, my shoulders softened, and my jaw loosened. It really was like picking up with an old friend. When your old friend grew up insanely hot. “You have to admit, it is an odd combination.”
“I can see where you’re coming from. It was Lauren’s idea.” Ethan’s smile shined with pride. “She brought it to Agatha fresh out of college. She’d been treating a particularly difficult client and suggested he might benefit from therapy.”
“That’s clever.” I took our plates and returned them to the sink, mumbling a quick thanks to the house. “There’s often trauma associated with injuries or physical pain. Releasing that can ease the recovery process on both fronts.”
“That’s exactly it.” Ethan chuckled and shook his head. “Once Lauren discovered she was a witch, there was no stopping her.”
“Lauren’s a witch?” I paused midway to my chair, my mouth dropping open. The Twins were fae, and Lauren was a witch. Allegedly, so was I. Maybe this really was a coven.
“Well … yeah. The Center runs on magic.” He twitched his eyebrows. I didn’t think I’d missed something obvious, but apparently I was being dense. “Lauren has natural healing abilities. She combines that with modern techniques to treat a clientele that wouldn’t otherwise be able to seek relief.”
“When did she learn she could … do that?” The Lauren I remembered from high school had not been so selfless.
“Senior year. But the years leading up to it, when her power was building but she didn’t understand why, were tough for her.” Ethan pressed his lips firm, as if he regretted saying anything. “That’s her story to tell.”
I decided to let that subject drop. He was right, it was Lauren’s story to tell.
I was a different person in high school, too.
Given the Twins’ response to me, it would be nice to have another ally in the house.
Maybe I should let go of what I did remember from thirty years ago and shape a new path forward.
Maybe if I did, the parts I couldn’t remember would come back to me.
“Okay, let’s get to business.” I waved my hand like I was waving away the space between us and sat down. “What do I need to know about the next thirty days?”
“Right.” Ethan pulled a tablet out of his briefcase and opened it on the table, rotating it and scooching closer so we could review it together.
“You have thirty days from yesterday’s board meeting to establish your place as rightful Supreme and Division Head.
Brianne is the manager, and she can help you learn the ropes and answer most of your questions about the day-to-day.
And the other division heads are required to support you.
” He wrinkled his nose. “Even the Twins.”
“What happens if I don’t do it?” A sudden dryness coated my throat. “What happens if I can’t, or don’t want to, establish myself?”
Ethan swiped the screen, scanned it, then closed it and tucked it away.
“Let’s not worry about that just yet. I’m sure you’re going to do fine.” Whoa. That was a heavy tone for something that was supposed to be placating.
“Didn’t Agatha have family? Anyone other than me she trusted?” A glass of ice water appeared on a coaster on the table. I gulped it down. I still felt like I was swallowing sand. “Why can’t Brianne become Supreme?”
“She had a distant family that is not under consideration.” Ethan’s tone was sharp, making me wonder about this “distant family” he wasn’t going to expand on. “Brianne is mundane.”
“Brianne?” I barked out a laugh. “She’s anything but mundane.”
“No, I mean she doesn’t hold magic. She can support the Supreme, but she can’t become one.” Ethan fidgeted in his chair. “Do you mind if I pace?”
At my nod, he stood and walked, his long stride eating the small space between the kitchen and breakfast nook.
I’d already figured out that, despite his big tough attorney facade, Ethan struggled with uncomfortable situations.
And so far, every situation we’d had together was uncomfortable.
I waited, letting him process how much he wanted to say to me.
It seemed easier than asking a ton of questions.
I didn’t want to pry answers out of him, but I would if he didn’t give them willingly.
Finally, he stopped and sat back at the table, angling his chair to face me fully and leaning forward.
“Okay, here’s what I know. This is the second version of Agatha’s will.
Well, technically it’s the third, but no one ever saw the first one.
What we refer to as the original copy was created by my dad the year we were born.
” He paused for effect, and probably to make sure what he was saying sank in.
“The year your mother started her job here.”
My gut vibrated. It was a new sensation. I was so used to getting nauseous when I was processing or upset. But this was different. This was deeper than a stomach issue, as if my roots were waking up from a long nap.
“Are you saying she added my mom to her will?”
“No.” Ethan tugged on one of his curls. It was kind of adorable how exasperated I could make him. “She added you to her will, Simone. From the moment you were born, she expected you to become Supreme.”
Wow. No pressure there. The vibration was growing. My body was trying to tell me something. I dug my nails into my palms, trying to focus on whatever it was. What did I know—what was I forgetting?
“I think …” I paused, swallowed, and tried again. “I think I knew that. I was always going to come back here.” The vibration echoed in my throat. Yes, that was what I needed to say. “It’s all fuzzy. My life happened, different from how I expected it to go. But deep down there’s something here.”
I waved my hand over my stomach, then past my chest to my neck.
“An inner voice whispering that I was supposed to return sooner.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Agatha warded you away. She told me about it when we met to revise the will last week.” She said you two had an agreement.
You went to college, finished your clinicals, and got some experience.
Then you were supposed to return here twenty years ago to train under Agatha.
You didn’t. She assumed the ward held, keeping you from returning, though she didn’t know why. ”
He sat back with a sigh and shrugged his shoulders.
Last night, Gumbo had told me something similar. I’d blamed Jeff. But after a night of sleep and calmer emotions, it wasn’t fair to place it all on him. I’d chosen to stay. I hadn’t wanted to return to Treater’s Way or face the pain I felt when I thought about home.
We sat in silence, Ethan watching me process in much the same way as I’d watched him pace earlier. We knew each other well, which still baffled me. Then, a realization hit home.
“Did you say she changed her will last week?”
“I did.” Ethan grinned, as if he’d been waiting for me to catch up. “Right before she died, she called me here to make one small change. A thirty-day observation period.”
I groaned. The chair in the boardroom, Gumbo’s comment about part of her still here.
“I’m being judged.”
“Agatha doesn’t judge, Simone.” Ethan took a moment to rest his hand on my forearm, giving it an affectionate but brief squeeze. “She would say she assesses.”
I had to smile. From what I remembered, that sounded like her.
It was all so overwhelming. Every time I started to process one piece of it, another piece popped up. I was incomplete and blocked, and it was frustrating.
“Why did she make the change last week?”
“Surely you know why?” Ethan canted his head, and I lifted my shoulders to my ears. Was I always going to feel like I didn’t know things I should? “Because of the meeting you two had.”
“Meeting? I haven’t seen Agatha in thirty years …”
My voice trailed, and two things happened at once.
A blinding headache shot through me, stabbing me behind the eyes like a thousand needles.
And my stomach twisted into a giant knot that refused to release its grip.
I ran from the table, knocking my chair over on my way to the sink, where I lost every bite of that delicious blueberry muffin.
It didn’t taste as good coming back up. I retched until I was empty, dipping my head under the faucet for relief. Then I sank to the floor, water puddling around me.
Last week, a strange woman had rushed into my office seeking emergency counseling. It was a bizarre session that, under normal circumstances, I would have remembered more clearly. I’d made notes on her session. Immediately after, a blinding headache prompted me to leave my office and return home.
Which is when I’d found Jeff in bed with another woman.
“The woman that visited my office last week was Agatha?” My throat was swollen and tender. “It didn’t look like her. Or what I remember of her. It was the strangest session of my life.”
“Why?” Ethan handed me a towel and sat on the floor opposite me. “Can you tell me what it was about?”
“I suppose it’s relevant.” I opened my phone, scrolling to my notes file and pulling up the last session.
Scanning it, a million little puzzle pieces fell into place.
“Patient is suffering from anxiety due to her certainty that she will die at midnight.
She requested assistance determining who to leave her estate to.
“I’d humored her, in a way, walking through scenarios with her using a tool called the miracle question.” I slid my phone toward Ethan, allowing him to read the rest. “Her favorite option was the one where she hung on for thirty days to make sure she felt confident in her choices.”