Daisy nods, the answer making sense. She hung around Petra as much as she could when they were younger, hoping Gladys would pass on some of her skillset, but that wasn’t how it worked out. While Gladys never shunned her, Daisy wasn’t a priority, so she wasn’t given the same attention and care Petra received. Witches are very protective of their magic and tend to believe that it falls under family secrets, so they do their best to keep their abilities to themselves.
Sloan takes her last bite, seemingly buying time to find the right words. She leans forward, reaching a hand out toward Daisy, but stops short of touching her. “I learned that the biggest part of it was being able to regulate your own emotions. As you know, our power is linked to us, including our feelings. So when we feel out of control, the magic responds in kind. You mentioned you’ve been having a rough time, so it would make sense that you’ve been facing challenges controlling an increased sense of power when it’s added to the mix.”
“Lately I’ve been all over the place emotionally, not knowing which way is up. But then I get this influx of power, and it’s so wonderful but also unpredictable. I mean, I nearly set the hotel room on fire—thanks for fixing that, by the way—I get so flustered, and then I can’t rein it in. It’s frustrating.”
“I understand. I struggled when I merged with my family grimoire too. While I wasn’t dealing with the same things you are, I was almost rebelling against the power at first. I didn’t like how it made me feel. I was almost power-hungry and constantly seeking an outlet, so I pushed back. I tried to reverse the merge, but it was too late, and as I quickly learned, it could not be undone. My mother was so angry. She kept yelling at me, saying things like ‘how could I disparage the family line that way’ and that I ‘had no right to be taking on the Wilks power if I was going to be an ungrateful wench.’”
“She sounds pleasant,” Daisy says sarcastically.
“She is… a formidable woman who has spent her life with expectations hanging over her head. She doesn’t do well when she thinks we won’t meet these ideals.”
“Is that why you are trying to find something of your own?”
“Basically. I love her, but I can’t stand the constant scrutiny anymore. I’m thirty-one, and I think I deserve not to have my mother questioning everything that I do and measuring it against some imaginary standard she has in her head. It’s exhausting.”
“It sounds it.”
Daisy places her napkin on the table as Olive approaches with the bill. Sloan picks it up from the table before Daisy has a chance to even reach for it. “No, I can get it,” Daisy protests.
“My treat. I want to celebrate what turned out to be a good weekend with a hopeful new friend and our new working relationship. You can get the next one.”
“The next one?”
“I hope there will be another one,” Sloan replies, that pretty pink hue appearing on her soft cheeks again.
“I think I can manage another one,” Daisy replies, trying not to sound too hopeful. If Daisy is honest with herself, she is already looking forward to the next time she sees Sloan again.
“Wonderful.”
With their bill paid, there is nothing more for them to do but head home. They walk back to The Dandelion in companionable silence again, as if neither of them wants this moment to end.
Daisy plays with the end of her sleeve, trying to think of some reason to stall, and Sloan looks around as if trying to find some reason to stay. Sloan finally breaks the now increasingly awkward silence when neither can find a solution. “Well, I should probably go. Thanks again for an interesting time.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll text you, and we can arrange to meet sometime this week to work out more details for this event,” Sloan says as she starts to turn away.
“That sounds good.”
“Bye,” Sloan replies, raising her hand awkwardly as if she has never done that before.
“Bye,” Daisy responds softly, already missing her presence.
CHAPTER 25
Daisy
“You are in so much shit,” Daisy says when Petra answers her call.
“Hello to you too, Daisy.”
“Don’t try and play coy here. You fucking set me up this weekend, and I nearly blew up The Dandelion because of it.”
“You what?” Petra asks incredulously.
Daisy flops onto her bed, legs dangling over the end. She places the call on speaker, placing it beside her. She raises one arm and lays it across her eyes. “Okay, maybe I didn’t almost blow it up. But Sloan and I were fighting, and I got so mad that I set the bedding on fire. If she hadn’t been so quick to put it out, I likely would be having a very different conversation with you right now,” she explains.
Petra laughs through the line. Like actually, fully laughs. It takes her a moment to regain her composure, and Daisy is pretty sure she hears Petra get a tissue to presumably wipe her traitorous tears away. “I knew you were a spitfire, but I didn’t think it would ever be literal.”
