Normally, she would have been the first person I called after learning that the new guy in town is not only a witch but is also using magic to cheat his way into the town’s heart. After the last few days, I gave her the go-ahead to close the shop at normal hours so she could go home and get some sleep. Meaning not only did she have no idea what was going on, but I had been left alone with my thoughts to mull over this new revelation.
At first, I felt relieved. Oliver’s knowledge of magic made it so much easier to explain what was happening . . . but the longer I lay awake in my bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment since he arrived in town, the angrier I became. This whole time, I’ve been at my wits’ end trying to navigate Ashwood Haven’s increasingly temperamental magic, and he’s over here sprinkling it onto desserts like powdered sugar to win a stupid cooking competition.
I huff through my nose and whirl on her. “He knows.”
Lucy takes a step back, shooting me a wary look. “Knows . . . what exactly?”
“The magic. He knows about the magic. He’s a witch.”
Lucy’s jaw drops, and she spins around, double-checking our surroundings to make sure I’m not angrily outing us to a bunch of tourists, but as per usual, the street is empty this early in the morning.
“Oliver!” I shout, irrationally angry that my pounding on the door hasn’t gotten his attention yet.
“Have you lost your mind? Keep it down!” Lucy whisper-yells at me, continuing her vigilance of the street, as if Stacy is going to jump out of the nearest alley to scold us for throwing off her circadian rhythm.
Finally, the man of the hour makes an appearance. He doesn’t look alarmed or surprised by my pounding on his door,though. If anything, he looks resigned to his fate—like he’s been waiting for this confrontation all night.
The moment he opens the door, I storm inside, pushing right past him until I’m pacing across the black and white tiled floor.
He and Lucy exchange a loaded look as he waves her through the door.
“Please, come on in. I was just doing some prep. Would you like a scone?” Sarcasm drips from his words like honey as he closes the door behind her.
“You cheated,” I announce.
Oliver scoffs, pushing his hands deep into his gray work pants. “You’re joking, right?”
I cross my arms, popping my hip to the side to emphasize my irritation. “Of course I’m serious. You used magic to win the cooking competition. That’s an unethical use of magic and gives us all a bad name.”
Oliver gives Lucy ashe can’t be seriouslook, while Lucy’s face falls into a deadpan stare that tells me I’m focusing on all the wrong things here. The truth is, I know I’m focusing on the most absurd part of this whole situation. I just don’t care.
After a long moment of silence, I flinch beneath their scrutiny, dropping my gaze to the toe of my boot.
“Fine,” I concede, “but you did cheat.”
Oliver rolls his eyes. “You’re a witch, and this whole town is drenched in magic that’s losing its mind. How about we discuss that instead?”
Lucy’s expression strains as she steps forward. “Okay, I don’t think I need to be here for this, so before you two get too deep into this much-needed conversation, I’m just going to take the keys . . .” She lets the words trail off, holding out her hand expectantly.
“Oh no,” Oliver scolds, and Lucy grimaces. “I get the feeling you’re as wrapped up in this whole thing as we are.”
Lucy’s lips press into a thin line, and she turns on the heel of her combat boots. “Kinda, sorta, not really.”
He raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you a witch too?”
“Yeah, but see, I’m not cursed so . . .” She turns back to me. “About those keys.”
My eyes bulge at her slip-up.
What?She mouths at my gawking, utterly unaware of what she just said.
“Excuse me”—Oliver leans forward as if maybe he didn’t hear her right—“cursed?”
I sigh as Lucy cringes.
“Nice one, Luce,” I breathe.
She whispers an apology as I drop the store keys into her outstretched hands and shuffles out the door, sparing Oliver an apologetic glance. He closes the door behind her, leaning against the glass with one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other.
