Copyright © 2025 by Elle Lavendelle

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Cover by lictoria_art.

For the oldest parentified daughters.

And for the burnt-out overachievers.

I hope you see yourself in Juniper.

Introduction

Hi, reader!

I’m going to get into content warnings now, so be sure to skip forward if you aren’t interested in those.

I’ll give you a moment.

Okay…ready to go?

This is a reasonably cozy book, but it does have the point of view of an older, parentified sister. This is actually a life experience I had, though mine was a lot different than Juniper’s. Still, I thought you should be aware of it before diving in.

Their family is not toxic, but Juniper has a lot of complicated feelings about her family and mother. That’s a big theme in this book.

OTHER CONTENT WARNINGS

Mourning, grief, funerals, death, murder (off-page)

Sex & BDSM themes (choking, spanking, orgasm control/delay, gagging)

Pet names (not excessive, in my opinion)

Brief ex drama

Cheating (off-page, not main characters)

Playlist

With songs like…

Bewitched by Laufey

Eat Your Young by Hozier

I Wanna Be Yours by the Arctic Monkeys

Mary by Alex G

My Kind of Woman by Mac Demarco

Rodeo Clown by Flipturn

Love Me Now by Ravyn Lenae

Sea, Swallow Me by Cocteau Twins

Chapter 1

Juniper

“I’m sorry.” I smile through my teeth. “Our cooks are busy at work making sure your burger is as fresh as can be. It will take a little longer, but I’ll get it right out to you.”

The usual customer service answer should be enough to appease them, but some patrons aren’t as easy. Most would be happy to have two cold beers in front of them. Not these two.

“We wanted the food to come out with the drinks.” The woman crosses her arms.

“You should have requested that.” It’s getting harder to hold my smile. “But even if you did, that won’t make your burgers ready any faster. Other people have been waiting longer than you.”

“That doesn’t make you sound any better.” The man scoffs.

“I’m not the one cooking!” This is why I’m terrible at this job.

When I tell people I hate what I do, I mean it. There’s never been a job I liked, and that is saying something. I’ve been everything under the sun: office worker, server, barista, bookshop employee. If you name it, I’ve tried it.

My most recent place of employment is at a bar thirty minutes outside my small town. The hope is to learn about mixing drinks, which fits better with my specialty as a witch. I’m a potion maker. Making cocktails will be easy in comparison.

Somehow, I’m always stuck on serving duty instead.

The commute isn’t so bad. Working in a larger city comes with perks—like bigger tips. It doesn’t come with better people. Case in point: the couple at my table. According to their IDs, they’re in their mid-twenties, but some people never grow up. These two are perfect examples of that.

I’m no better, considering I’m stooping to their level.

The woman twists in her seat, and the man fixes me with a flat expression.

“How much longer is this going to take?” he asks.

It’s Friday night. Not only is this our busiest night of the week, but it’s the busiest night for any bar. That feels like common sense, but judging by their rude stares, it must not be.

The Ace is a typical sports bar. There’s some game or another blaring on the television, and jerseys for teams I don’t know hang on the walls. Maine isn’t well-known for excelling in sports, so we borrow from New York and Massachusetts.

The rivaling teams can bring some tension, but I have no stake in the arguments. I’m just here for a paycheck.

I’m the only goth in the sports bar, and, of course, I stick out like a sore thumb. What I need is a new job. Between customers like this and the matching jersey I’m forced to wear, this job is suffocating me.

Bringing orders, counting my tips, and even making small talk—those things are all more than doable. I would even go as far as to say I like most of our regulars.

Other parts of the gig don’t come naturally to me. Talking to people like this and dealing with drunk patrons…

That makes the job a living hell.

“I don’t know why you’re being so rude,” she says. “We’re not doing anything wrong!”

I inhale slowly. “You’re right, and I don’t mean to be rude. I’m trying to explain the delay. You’re welcome.”

The man slams his hands on the table, loud enough to be heard around the bustling bar. “So, you admit there’s a delay?”

I cringe.

“Jerry!” The woman grimaces at her boyfriend.

“What?” he says. “I just want my burger.”

“It will be ready in ten minutes.” I hope. “I’ll get it out to you as soon as possible.”

“No way,” he says. “It doesn’t take ten minutes to make a burger.”

I shake my head, unsure if I heard him right. What, does this guy eat his burgers raw? More importantly, does he not understand that we have other customers?

“Actually—” I start.

“Did you forget to put in our order?” His words hold a heavy accusation. “Why are you so incompetent?”

In a snap, my patience dissolves. My eye twitches. I clutch my pen hard enough that my knuckles turn white.

“You know what?” I let out a dry laugh. “I don’t have an answer to that question, but it brings up a question of my own. You’re only on your second drink. Why are you so belligerent?”

They blink at me for several excruciating moments.

I can’t take the words back. Rage pulses through me, and I don’t want to.

“I didn’t want to say this”—the woman shakes her head, looking like a disappointed mother—“but I need to talk to your manager. Now.”

This isn’t the first time I've heard those words. The managing team is good at advocating for me; they usually take my side…

That may not be the case this time.

A fellow server stops by the table, donning a confused smile. “How are we doing over here?”

Great. It’s Sarah.

I couldn’t pick her out of a crowd if I wanted to, and I really don’t want to. She was hired a month before me, but with the broom up her ass, you would think she’s been working here twice as long.

I know what to say—everything is fine, and they’re wondering how much longer their food will take. I can even lie and say I’m about to check on their meals.

The words won’t come out.

“We have a couple of insufferable customers,” I say before I can stop myself. “That’s what’s happening.”

There are worse things I want to call them, but I still have some refrain.

Sarah’s jaw drops. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not…”

“We need to talk to your boss!” Jerry stands up as if he means to look for the manager himself. “Now.”

It seems my serving career is about to be cut short.

OZAN

It’s time to say goodbye to Boston.

I glance out the window, admiring the view of the darkened city. When I first moved here, I thought it was the most beautiful view in the city.

Now, it makes my stomach curdle. Boston, you will not be missed.

I was eighteen years old when I moved here for college. It was the perfect place for a witch like me—with a big witch community and a larger population overall. I got to spread my wings.

The location wasn’t what kept me here after graduation. It was the people. More specifically, it was one person.

I met the love of my life in college… or so I thought.

We shared a life and home for a decade. She was my first love, and when I got down on one knee, I swore she would be the last. We moved into our gorgeous home—a quaint place with a ton of history behind it. We shared a cat. That’s sacred among witches.

None of it mattered. Our bond wasn’t strong enough to withstand. Or maybe it would have been if she hadn’t started sleeping with my best friend. I still don’t know which of them hurt me more.

They both betrayed me.

At least my friend, Otis, doesn’t have the nerve to show up today. I’m here to pick up the last of my things, and I was hoping to do it alone. My ex being here is a jump scare—but of course, she can’t give me this one moment of peace.

Vanessa and I are in our newly abandoned home. When we moved in, we made it ours. I had my jarred herbs and charmed trinkets, and she had her crafting table. It was my home for nearly a decade. She was my home.

It’s empty now, and so are her dark eyes. The last boxes are in my truck, waiting to follow me home.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Vanessa says.

She doesn’t have a right to cry—or maybe she does, but she shouldn’t do it in front of me. A tear rolls down her cheek.

My jaw tenses as I look away.

Vanessa has always been beautiful, with chocolate brown hair and a statuesque figure, but her beauty doesn’t strike me like it used to. Her tears bring up frustration in me, not sorrow. There was a time when I couldn’t see her eyes water without crying myself. Times change. The old urge to cradle her and tell her everything will be okay is gone.

It’s not okay. Nothing is. She may have lied to me, but I won’t do the same to her.

“Yup,” I say. “Don’t worry. You won’t be seeing me again.”

“Don’t say that.”

Isn’t that what she wanted? You don’t end a relationship this way without knowing it’s final. We can’t be friends. It won’t be an easy breakup. Not for me.

“It’s true,” I say. “This is how it’s supposed to be.”

We met in college, and even though I had a group of friends, she became my comfort person in a new city. We were friends for years before she kissed me, waking me from the bumbling stupor I was stuck in.

That kiss made me realize there was something more, and when I did, my heart opened. The rest of our life began—or so I thought.

Vanessa and I had a lot in common, but we’ve always had some differences. The main one is the most obvious. I’m a witch, and she’s… well, she’s not. She’s a human. That wasn’t what got between us.

I don’t know what I did. Sure, she cheated, but I still don’t understand what drove her to that.

Maybe it’s not for me to understand. I spent long enough blaming myself. It’s time to move on.

“Right…” Her voice is small. “You’ll drive safely, won’t you?”

I can’t feel bad for her. Vanessa has friends and family. Other people can help her through the breakup. I can’t be one of them, and she can’t be the one for me.

She can’t know I’ve spent every day of the last year alone, trapped in my shoebox apartment. I’ll never tell her about the nights I spent crying over her. Now, a year later, I’m ready to let her go. The papers are finalized. All I have to do is get in my truck and go.

“I’ll do my best.” I take a step back, eager to leave.

My last words should be more poetic. There’s more I want to say. Does she regret anything? Will she miss me? Where did we go wrong? We’ve rehashed the conversation a thousand times. It’s not worth it anymore.

It’s time to let her go. If I hang on much longer, I’ll have rope burn.

“Ozan…”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

“You were a good husband.”

I flinch. “Don’t…”

It’s not like I can return the compliment. While parts of our relationship were good, I don’t want to dwell on them any longer. That will make me miss her again.

I open the door, and a burst of cool wind flows in.

“If you need anything…you know where to find me,” she murmurs.

I know, but I won’t.

She tore our relationship apart, and I won’t be the one to fix it. If she wants anything from me—closure or something else—she’ll have to reach out to me.

It won’t be me. I’ve done enough for this relationship.

“You know where to find me.” I duck my head as I leave through the small doorway.

It’s practically a habit to make sure I don’t bang my head on it, but it serves as a reminder, too. This place is too small for me. Most places are, considering my height, but this home is in more ways than one.

Technically, where I’m going next is smaller, but it’s exactly what I need.

I’m going home… back to Starbrook.

Chapter 2

Juniper

“I have closing duties.” I point my thumb at the door. “Do you mind if I…?”

Even though I just arrived at the office, I’m already looking for an escape. It’s more about avoiding the inevitable.

“Yes,” Denise says, “I mind.”

“Right. Sorry.”

My manager, Denise, is a witch, too. Sometimes, I think that’s why she hired me. It’s the only thing we have in common. She’s a tall, older woman who loves sports and beer. I’m a shorter, ample woman who enjoys wine and nights alone.

We’re both witches, but we’re incomparable.

She hired me quickly, and I agreed to the job too fast. I’ve had serving jobs before, and I hated them all. I didn’t pretend otherwise. This was always supposed to be a stepping stone to learning the art of mixology.

A year at Ace flew by.

By the time she’s available to talk, it’s already two o’clock in the morning. My slipup was tiny. Who among us doesn’t snap at a customer or two?

The bar is peaceful now, with only a few of my coworkers lingering around to clean up.

“Sit down.” Denise gestures to the chair before her. There are only two seats in the tiny, cramped space.

The rest of the office is just as sparse. It has a filing cabinet, a desk, and a rundown computer. We don’t spend much time here. Every time I’ve been in this office, Denise has reprimanded me for something. If I’m here now, I know I royally messed up.

Well, that much is obvious. I had to listen as Jerry and his girlfriend—Christina—told Denise how rude I was. They weren’t wrong.

I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. I used to be a better worker. When I was young and full of life, I put my all into any job I could snag. I’m thirty now. I don’t know how people pretend to care for so long, and I can’t believe anyone out there is passionate about a serving position.

Maybe I’m the problem.

“Are you firing me?” I don’t bother sitting. “Because if you are—I would rather get it over with. I don’t want to waste your time. There’s a lot to clean up out there.”

I’ve fallen to the lowest of lows. It doesn’t hit me until I’m here, flat on the ground. There are two options. I can beg for a job I hate. Or I can be jobless for an undetermined amount of time.

There was a point when I was the most determined, driven person in the world. I miss those days. My education was important to me. Sadly, my degree in art history isn’t as helpful as I wanted it to be.

I moved back to Starbrook after college, and I cannot use my degree in this small town. The nearest museum is a few hours away, and I already know teaching is not for me.

I should have studied something more practical… or perhaps we shouldn’t let teenagers invest thousands of dollars in their future. I’m an example.

I never found my footing in life, and it’s only getting worse.

“You’re ready to let the job go that easily, huh?” The smile on Denise’s face is polite, but there’s a marked sadness behind her eyes.

“Um…” I’m not sure what the correct answer is. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“When I care about something, I fight for it.”

I let the obvious pass between us; I don’t care about this job.

Denise nods as if I said the words aloud.

“Can you tell me what I did wrong?” I ask. “Handling unruly customers is hard for everyone. I know I’m not the first to blow up like that.”

“You’re not.”

“Why is this the breaking point?”

“Because it’s harder for you. This is not the first time customers have complained about your attitude.”

My jaw drops. “I⁠—”

“I don’t need you to defend yourself.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “This isn’t personal. If anything, it’s because I care about you—and my bar. I want you to do something you care about, too.”

I care about paying for my house renovations and caring for my sisters. I care about tips and minuscule paychecks. That’s enough for me to do the job she’s paying me for. Why do I need to care about her business?

I know she doesn’t want to hear that.

“I do care,” I say. “I was having a-an off day, I guess.”

“You’ve had a few of them. Is everything all right at home?”

No.

It hasn’t been all right in a year, but that can’t be my excuse anymore. I’ve been going through a rough patch since I first met Denise. At a certain point, she’ll get sick of listening to me whine about my dead mother.

She may be more interested if I could tell her what really happened to my mother. I can’t. We still don’t know what led to the demon attack.

I shake my head. “Everything is fine.”

“That’s good.”

I’ve been through my fair share of jobs, but I’m usually the one leaving them—and for good reason. Leaving because of rude customers is a new low.

I don’t know how to handle this. My smile slips off without me realizing it. I force it back on and straighten up.

“There isn’t anything I can do to change your mind, is there?”

Denise shakes her head. “Do you want to be here? Be honest.”

“I—” If she’s already firing me, I can tell the truth. “No. I don’t.”

“Good.” She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. “Go find what you want to do. I’ll be rooting for you.”

“You don’t hate me?” It feels silly to ask. My cheeks burn.

“No.” She chuckles. “You’ve been stuck here for too long. We both know that wasn’t the plan. I can’t wait to see your next move.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

I’m as in the dark as Denise is because… I have no idea what I’m going to do next. Goddess, help me.

I fight the urge to slam my car door, all too aware that someone is watching…

It’s one of our neighbors.

In any other town, I could sneak inside and avoid the interaction. That’s not possible in Starbrook. I can already feel him watching me.

Sure enough, when I glance in my neighbor’s direction, he smiles and lifts his hand. It’s still dark out. Most people wouldn’t try to start a conversation this early; Seth is another story.

Seth knows my youngest sister, Laurel, better than the rest of us. He’s about seven years younger than me, and it shows. His smile is vibrant. He lacks the years of stress that would bring him down to my level.

He annoys me if I’m honest, but he’s sweet. Seth and his family are among the few human families in our little town, and they’ve always been pleasant neighbors.

“Hey, Juni!” he calls.

I lift a hand in greeting. Returning his smile feels impossible.

“It’s sunrise,” I say. “What are you doing up?”

“Oh, you know me. I have to work on my gains.”

I snort. “Right. Good luck with that.”

It’s colder than a witch’s tit, but Seth is going on a morning run. It further proves his youth; I could never be so strong. Getting up in the morning is more brutal every year.

“Thanks!” He completely ignores my sarcasm. There’s a chance it doesn’t register with him at all.

I don’t care. I’m happy to go inside.

The family home is a mess these days. My mother always kept it in tip-top shape, but now it’s down to me and my four sisters—or three, technically.

Our middle sister, Aspen, has lived in New York for years, and we haven’t seen her since our mother’s funeral.

I rub my hands together and take a peek at the diminishing fire. I’ll have to feed the flame before I sleep. The old floorboards creak as I walk through the house.

My home is silent except for the pitter-patter of paws across the old wooden floor. I won’t be alone for long.

Timber, our family dog, comes barreling over. I sigh softly and bend, scratching our big, shaggy golden retriever behind his ears. Seeing him have brief moments of happiness uplifts me. He’s been sad lately.

It’s understandable. Timber has been with us for over a decade, but he was my mother’s familiar. Not mine. A witch losing her familiar is a pain no one can understand, and it goes both ways. Timber misses our mom as much as any of us do.

“You’re a good boy.” I pat his side and stand up, meandering to the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll get you a treat.”

He deserves it. Timber continues caring for us even though he lost his witch.

It’s four in the morning. I expect everyone in the house to be asleep, but that’s not the case. The light in the kitchen is on, and there’s Maple clutching a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.

Out of all my sisters, Maple is my favorite. That’s right, I’m not above playing favorites. She and I are closest in age, and naturally, our closeness continues into adulthood.

Her red hair is tied up on the top of her head, and she’s already dressed for the day. She wears a uniform to work, too, her plump form clad in a typical chef’s outfit. I see her dressed this way more often than not. When she smiles at me, her cheeks are round and pink.

“I didn’t know you were working today.” I dig my hand into the dog-shaped cookie jar and retrieve a biscuit for Timber.

He wags his tail by my feet, waiting patiently for the treat.

“Neither did I!” She could be upset—I would be—but she isn’t. She lets out a giggle instead. “Someone called in sick for the bread shift! Can you believe it?”

Maple is brilliant in the kitchen. After graduating with a culinary degree, she could have gone anywhere. I’m lucky she came home to Starbrook instead of traveling the world.

“I really can’t believe it. The audacity…” I feed Timber his treat. “You haven’t had a day off in two weeks. That’s not right.”

“I know.” She sighs, but there’s still a smile on her face. “Money is money, right?”

“Right.”

And we need more of that now, considering how my evening went. I press my lips together, not ready to tell Maple what happened.

“Are you off to bed?” Maple lifts her mug to her lips.

I slip off my shoes and settle into a chair at our kitchen table. “I will be soon… maybe. I don’t know if I can sleep tonight.”

The table is cluttered. I don’t mean for it to get this bad, but we’re all busy. I’m the most likely to keep a tidy house between my sisters and me. It’s my job, and I’ve been slacking.

Cookbooks have piled up near Maple, and they’ve been there for a few days. Even though it’s October, a box of tree ornaments rests on the table.

It’s too late to take care of it now. December will be here in a few months.

I pick up an orange flyer from the table. The design is familiar to me—the Haunted Harvest Festival.

Right. That’s coming up soon. For the first time in years, I have no reason to attend.

“Why not?” Maple’s smile finally drops, and her brow wrinkles. “Do you need some chamomile tea?”

I don’t want to ruin her morning. Maple is going to have a long day. She’s hard-working—more than me—and I don’t need to bring her down with my troubles.

But, out of all my sisters, I want to tell her. I tell her everything.

“Tea may not be enough to help me today,” I say. “I’ve been through the wringer.”

That’s a big deal. Tea can cure most problems for a witch. One of our earliest introductions to magic is usually brewing a lovely tea.

She gasps. “What do you mean? You’re scaring me!”

Maple doesn’t look all that worried. She lets out a soft giggle, as carefree as can be.

“I talked with my boss…” I look down at my hands. “Or my ex-boss, I guess.”

It takes a moment for the words to hit her. Her lips part, and her eyes widen. “Oh!”

“I know. It’s bad.”

I’m supposed to be the one to hold our family together, and I can’t even keep a job. Talking to my younger sister about this is embarrassing. It would be different if Maple would come to me for comfort. I’m her big sister; I’m supposed to be helping her, not the other way around.

“But what happened?” she asks. “I thought we liked Denise!”

“We do—or I do—but that doesn’t mean I’m good at the job.”

“So, you were the personality hire?”

I snort. “I guess you could say that… except my personality lost me the job.”

Timber nudges my hand with his wet nose. I turn my attention to him and stroke his soft fur.

“I can get you a new serving job.” Maple is quick to jump to action. “Say the word. We’re always hiring!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

The last time I worked with Maple, it didn’t go well. It’s not her fault. She loves what she does, which makes her intense in the kitchen.

I don’t want to let my sister down like I did Denise.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

I nod. “I’ll keep it in mind if I can’t find anything else.”

“Oh, give yourself a break first.” She leans over and touches my shoulder. “Don’t start the job search right away.”

“That’s not an option. I can’t waste time licking my wounds. I have student loans to pay.”

“You can and should take time to relax,” she says. “Self-care isn’t a waste. You don’t need to carry the burden alone. That’s not healthy!”

“I know.”

“You could get a job with your degree.”

“Where?” I shake my head.

“At a school!”

I could tell her for the thousandth time that I don’t want to teach art, but starting that conversation back up doesn’t feel worth it.

“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe.”

It sounds like a solution, but it doesn’t feel like one. Or, maybe I’m not ready for solutions.

“We’re here for you,” Maple says.

She can say it until the moon turns blue, but I won’t listen. I am supposed to be in charge now.

My sisters and I are all adults. The youngest, Laurel, is twenty-one. We can all care for ourselves, but my mother didn’t want that. It isn’t what she taught us.

We’re supposed to stick together and help elevate each other.

“I know you are.” I offer a tight smile. “And I appreciate it. I won’t start looking today.”

“Good!” That seems to appease Maple. She stands up and smooths down her white top. “Get some rest, sweetie. I’ll be home by lunchtime. We can catch up then.”

“I will,” I say. “Thanks.”

I must fall asleep on the couch. It’s warm and toasty when I wake up—which is why this is my favorite place to sleep. It’s closer to the fireplace than my room upstairs is.

The couch is old and worn, and it feels like it’s sucking me in. It’s perfect. It should probably be replaced soon, but I have more important things to worry about.

Including a potential intruder.

The floorboards creak as someone’s clumsy feet stomp across them.

I sit upright, peering around the room with groggy eyes, intent on finding the source of the noise. A flash of green hair is the first thing I see as my youngest sister tiptoes through the room.

“Shh. Go back to sleep. You can’t see anything.”

“Laurel.” I lie back down. “You don’t need to sneak inside anymore. You’re a grown woman.”

I’m not her mother, though it may be hard for the baby of the family to comprehend. Our father left when she was two years old. My mother was a fantastic parent—I’ll never say otherwise—but I spent my teenage years helping with Laurel.

I would do it again if I had to, but it left us with a strange relationship. Her being a decade younger than me doesn’t help with that.

Laurel is the rebel of the family. If sneaking in at night doesn’t prove it, her green hair does. She was once the athletic one, going to college on a track scholarship, but she left that behind to run around Starbrook instead.

That’s the simplistic way of looking at it. The truth is, she dropped out after our mother passed. I would have done the same.

Her coming home was supposed to be a short break, but it’s been a year, and she shows no sign of going back to Orono. I don’t know if it’s part of the rebellion—but it’s hard to rebel when there’s no one to stop you. She can stay here as long as she wants.

“No?” She stops in her tracks.

“No. Do you want to tell me where you were?”

“Out with a friend. That’s all.”

“What kind of friend?”

“Something tells me you already know.” She continues up the stairs. “I’m going to sleep. Try not to be too loud.”

“I’ll try.”

“Tell the others, too!”

I’m up now, even if I don’t want to be. I glance at my phone and realize I’ve only slept a few hours. Yet, my body is wired.

It’s time to start my day. There’s nothing else to do.

OZAN

This is where I’ll spend the next phase of my life. Although my new apartment is a fraction of the size of my last home, it has something the other didn’t.

Peace.

I’m ready to let go of what was.

My new apartment is above my shop and…it’s nice. The single room is rustic and different than where I lived with Vanessa.

It’s lonely here, but that’s what I need. To be alone again. To be me.

The floor is unpolished wood, and the walls are red brick. The apartment is a studio. My bed is already shoved off in a corner, with a room divider to create a facade of privacy. The only other room here is a small bathroom.

It’s big enough for me and me alone.

I glance at myself in the mirror. The lighting in the tiny bathroom is horrendous. It’s a great reminder that I have to shave soon. The gray streaks in the front tell a story of the stress I’ve been carrying.

There’s more gray these days, I swear.

I set down the last of my boxes. I didn’t bring much.

Starbrook is my home, the place I was raised, but now it’s my fresh start. I want it to feel that way—and I don’t want to bring anything that reminds me of Vanessa.

Although we have been separated for a year, the ink on our divorce papers is still fresh. I’m over her, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get over the betrayal. This apartment and the shop downstairs…

It feels like a good start to that.

Chapter 3

Juniper

“Tell me when to stop.” Laurel holds our late mother’s tarot deck, shuffling with expertise.

It’s a deck I know better than any other—we all do. It was our first divination tool. The cards are from the 70s, and they’re perfectly worn down. Years of use make them bendy enough to make shuffling a dream. I know the imagery by memory.

Laurel does, too.

I don’t trust my baby sister with many things, but this is one of them. Her intense eyes are glued to mine, and I know she’s taking this seriously.

I’ve been unemployed for two weeks. Fourteen and a half days of lounging around the frozen house and wishing I had the money to install central heating. Fourteen days of having only Laurel, my equally unemployed sister, to keep me company.

How unbelievably low I have fallen. Laurel is allowed to be unemployed. She’s taking a break from school, and she’s still a baby.

What’s my excuse?

Maple tells me I can take as long as I need. Rowan, our second youngest, says nothing, but her silence speaks volumes.

Enough is enough. It’s time to get back to work.

This tarot reading will be the start of that… I hope.

“Stop!” I say.

Our mother taught us to wait until we feel a tingling and pulling. Once it comes, the deck has the answers we’re looking for. I tend to feel it like a gut instinct.

Laurel stops and slams the thick deck onto the coffee table.

“You’re here for a money reading, right?” she asks.

I nod, on the edge of my seat. “I want to know what to focus on next. If there’s a specific job or any guidance you have, I suppose.”

Going to Laurel for advice may sound silly, but she’s one of the best tarot readers in the family. This includes our vast extended family. I would have gone to my mother before her passing, but Laurel is a good second choice.

She is still deciding which form of magic she wants to pursue, but I know she’ll be a great divinatory witch if she chooses that path.

My sisters each have a specialty—every witch does. Maple is, fittingly, a kitchen witch. She made a career of it, though her jobs rarely let her charm the food. Aspen is a love witch. Rowan is a cosmic witch and an expert in astrology.

As for me, I whip up a mean potion, but I haven’t been focusing on my potion-making lately. I can’t remember the last time I brewed something more complicated than a cold remedy.

Laurel cuts the deck into three piles and picks the top cards from each.

“This,” she says, flipping over one card, “is where you’re coming from. It’s what you’re leaving behind.”

The ace of cups in reverse. I tilt my head to the side, trying to understand the card. It’s the worst thing I can do. Laurel is the reader, and I’m supposed to trust her interpretation, not come up with one of my own.

Witches make for the worst kind of reading client.

Laurel flips the next card. “This is where you are now. Three of cups.” She lifts a brow. “Very fitting.”

“I suppose…”

“And this!” She flips the last card with gusto, brandishing it in the air before she slams it on the table. “Is where you’re supposed to go. It’s your next step.”

“The six of cups? No way.”

“Hush. You’re not the reader. I am.” She inhales and inspects the cards. “These are all cups cards. That’s interesting…”

“Is it?”

“That means it’s a matter of the heart, not money.”

I roll my eyes. Matters of the heart are not a priority right now—and they haven’t been for… well, for about a year.

“You better find a way to make it about money,” I say.

She quietly inspects the cards. Several moments later, she slams her hand on the table. “I got it.”

“Go on.”

“The ace of cups in reverse is where you were.”

“You already said that.”

She continues. “You were following paths that weren’t emotionally fulfilling. It drained your energy. That was a bad thing. It kept you from doing what mattered.”

Laurel is vibrant as she reads the cards, the words coming a mile a minute. Our late mother approached divination differently. She was quiet, and she let the cards whisper to her. Laurel lets them speak through her. She’s a ball of energy, and the words flow from her without thought or care.

She slaps her hand against the middle card.

“The three of cups is where you are, and—duh—it’s you partying with your sisters. You’re filling that cup up and reconnecting to what matters.”

“Which is…?”

“Family.”

“But I’ve always been connected to you.”

I do everything for my sisters. Every job, every shift, everything. Even before my mother passed, my family was always in the back of my mind. It’s why Aspen distancing herself from us makes no sense to me…

But she’s happy. That’s all I care about.

“Not like that,” she says. Her expression becomes severe. “You’re supposed to be connecting to the fun of sisterhood and witchery.”

“I don’t see how that will bring me money.”

This is why I don’t specialize in tarot. It’s fun, but it rarely has constructive advice. I should have gone to Rowan and checked on my transits. There must be something happening in the stars.

“You’re focusing on the wrong things.” She points at the final card—the six of cups. “Someone from your past will return. They will come to you with an offer, and you will”—her lips press together—“try to refuse, but to refuse is to deny your desires. It will not work.”

My heart races. “What? I know that’s one potential way to read the card, but…”

The image on the six of cups is a man and a woman exchanging a pot of flowers. It tends to be a romantic card, but this is a money reading. I need her to find another interpretation.

“It’s the only way,” she says. “Not in general, obviously, but in this reading. That’s your message from the gods. You’re supposed to focus on your connections right now. Be open-minded and live with an open heart.”

Laurel’s readings are usually spot on, even if she delivers them in obscure ways. She missed the mark this time, but I don’t want to say so. The last thing I want is to stifle her passion.

“And your money advice is…?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about money. Focus on reconnecting to joy. Find your inner child, and keep an open heart. Have fun! Meet new people!”

“Great.” I force a smile. “Thanks.”

“Juni.” I’m about to stand, but her hand on mine keeps me in place. When Laurel looks at me, it feels like she’s looking through me. “Don’t write my advice off. This is what mom would have wanted.”

My throat is dry when I swallow.

None of my sisters bring up our mother. We haven’t spoken about her since the funeral. Laurel is the exception. She’s the only one who knows how to talk about her; I certainly don’t.

My stomach drops. Even with her green hair, she looks the most like our mother. Her eyes have the same shape, and her hands move like Mom’s when she shuffles those cards.

But she’s not my mother—or even close. Laurel is my baby sister, and she’s never had a real job. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m going to town for the morning.”

And no matter what Laurel says—I’m looking for a job. I won’t be looking for love, fun, or any other concepts she’s trying to shove down my throat. No one will pay me to have a good time.

I need something to force me to my feet, carry me to my room, and help me pick an outfit for my job-hunting excursion. This reading is what does it. I’m determined to prove those stupid cards wrong.

It’s another nippy day. I change into a dark maxi skirt, a matching top, and plenty of outerwear to keep me warm. A coat and even a hat. It’s too much for autumn, but I’ll be walking around outside. I’m bundled by the time I’m out the door.

There’s a determined look on my face as I amble through the cobbled streets of Starbrook. The buildings are older and rustic. While some have been renovated, most look like they’re from another time. Some are gothic, while others are like quaint cottages.

On the walk to town, I pass dozens of houses, and I know everyone who inhabits them.

Driving is an option, but I want to make the best of the snowless weather. You would think being raised in the Northeast means I can handle the cold, but I can’t. Out of my sisters, I’ve always been the most ill-equipped for the winter chill.

There’s an old brown house in the middle of the town square. That’s where we hold our town meetings. The flower shop is cute and pastel, with gold lettering. There are even a few apartments, but none rise too high, leaving the gray sky in view. The leaves are rustling colors of orange, yellow, and purple.

Even though it’s getting colder, it’s the best time of the year.

You can find everything you need in our downtown: groceries, records, beer, and ice cream. Well, the ice cream shop is closed for the season, but you can find the rest.

Everything except witch supplies.

I stop in front of my mother’s old shop. Hawthorne Apothecary.

My mother opened this shop when I was still a toddler and ran it for her entire life. It was my second home, and it still feels like it, no matter how long I avoid going in. My heart clenches.

This shop is mine now, and I don’t know what to do with it. I expected her to give it to us all— or perhaps Rowan. Her day job as an accountant would make her a good fit to run a business. Instead, she gave it to me, and heartbreak caused me to shut it down.

It’s been closed for a year now. Seeing the old sign is enough to break my heart.

My stomach drops. I turn ahead and continue along the path. I have to move on. I can’t keep looking back.

It’s hard when I’ve lived in the same place for most of my life.

I’ve already worked at many of these shops, whether a high school job or one of my many temporary jobs. The ice cream shop? It’s closed until spring, and I already worked there. The bakery? It’s not my style; I’ll leave that to Maple. The grocery store? I already worked there—and quit after two weeks. Stocking fruit isn’t as glamorous as it looks.

Working in Starbrook isn’t realistic. I have too much history with everyone, and there hasn’t been a new shop in years…

Times change, and sometimes you don’t notice. It’s tough to observe changes when you’re busy wallowing in your room for two weeks.

Something catches my eye. It’s an old building, but the sign is brand new.

When did this happen? I had heard about the pharmacy closing, but I didn’t know someone had already replaced it.

I stand in front of the quaint shop.

It takes a moment for the sight to sink in. A sign in front boasts a grand opening. It takes one peek through the window to see what’s inside.

Walls of jarred herbs, herb bundles hanging from the ceiling, big crystals, straw brooms…

Oh no. Oh no, no, no…

The world spins.

My earliest memories are in my mother’s shop. I remember running home to her, crying, after someone bullied me on the bus. She wrapped me up in her arms, whispered soothing words in my ear, and sat me down with a cup of peppermint and chamomile tea.

“Add honey,” she would say. “It makes everyone treat you with more sweetness.”

I don’t know how true it is, but it seemed to help every single time. Whoever runs this new shop can’t be as good as her—they can’t do it like her.

Neither can I. That’s the problem.

Hawthorne Apothecary has always been the only witch supply store in town. Now, someone new has come to take my memories from me.

Lapin Apothecary

My fists clench. There’s a whooshing and ringing in my ears. I can’t let this happen. They can’t replace her like this.

Chapter 4

Ozan

My first customer storms in like the place is on fire. There’s a flame behind her bright eyes, too. My bunny familiar, Aiyla, rests on my counter as I stroke the top of her head. It’s the definition of minding my own business…

How have I already pissed someone off?

The customer is clad in all-black, with a hat resting on her wavy, black hair. Her piercing blue eyes catch my attention before I can greet her, and the look on her face stuns me into silence.

She cuts through me with a single look, sending a thrill up my spine. I swallow, trying to suppress the dry feeling in my throat.

This may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Under her coat, she wears a matching skirt and top. They’re both dark with red flowers on them. The skirt clings to her wide, curvaceous hips. Her round face would be sweet if not for the way she glares at me, and her dark hair makes the contrast of her fair complexion striking.

Desire stirs in me. It’s something I haven’t felt since…well, since before Vanessa cheated on me.

I stomp the feeling out before it can take root. That’s not why I’m here. I didn’t come to Starbrook to get my heart broken again.

When I remember to greet her, I don’t sound as steady as I want to. “Welcome to…”

“Oh, stop it.”

I don’t recognize her until she speaks. It’s Juniper Hawthorne—and, of course, she’s mad at me. She never liked me before. Why would she start now?

“Juniper! I would know those dulcet tones anywhere.” I offer her a playful grin.

She doesn’t return the smile.

Juniper and I went to high school and elementary school together. She’s different than I remember. Her auburn hair is replaced with dark tresses, and… has she always been this attractive? I guess there’s a reason I picked her as my first kiss. I’ve always been more surprised that she chose me.

I should be annoyed that she’s glaring and cursing, but how she looks at me makes me hot behind the ears.

Her eyes drift briefly to my bunny, and I wonder if Aiyla’s adorable nature will earn me any points.

It becomes apparent it won’t.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. “You moved to Boston years ago.”

“Are you keeping tabs on me?”

“No!”

“Clearly not, if you didn’t know I was coming back.” I tap my fingers against the countertop. “Try not to look too disappointed.”

“You’re here for good?”

“Yup. Permanent move.”

“That’s fine—but what is this?” She gestures wildly to the shop.

When her eyes land on me again, there’s pain behind them. It’s more than the cruel glare she was offering before. Her lower lip trembles.

“It’s the new town apothecary,” I say, trying to gauge her reaction. “This is why I came back to Starbrook.”

Not entirely, but it’s part of the reason. The last thing I want is to tell Juniper about my divorce. She’ll find a way to hold it over my head.

My parents have been complaining for months about the lack of witch supplies in Starbrook. The town is full of witches, and being unable to get supplies is a disaster. They’ve been driving nearly an hour to the closest apothecary.

I know the Hawthornes used to run one, but…

It shut down, as far as I know. I didn’t expect the sisters to take my shop as a slight, but I should have known better. Juniper and I have always had bad blood, even if it’s mostly one-sided.

“Why did you open up so close to our shop?” She turns away from me and peers at the shelves.

“It’s not like Starbrook has a lot of real estate options.”

I spent weeks finding a spot, and when I made an offer on this place, it felt like my lucky day. It used to be the pharmacy, and after a couple of weeks of putting in elbow grease, it’s the perfect cozy spot for me to live and work.

I’m proud of the shop. The walls are stocked with dried herbs, I’m offering charmed items I spelled myself, and my potion brewer is talented. The crystal collection? Out of this world. I have everything a witch may need.

Juniper should be happy. Hell, I’m pretty close to being happy myself.

My life is different now. I went from managing a media company in Boston to… well, this. And this is what the town needs. I have high hopes for my little apothecary.

Unlike the gig in Boston, I care about this. It doesn’t feel like my business degree is going to waste.

“I know you did this on purpose.” She turns her sharp glare back on me.

“Why do you think that?” I put my hands on my hips, fighting off a smile.

“You’ve always had an issue with me.”

“I really don’t have an issue with you. You’re projecting.”

If we have issues, it goes both ways. Juniper is aware of this, but unsurprisingly, she is trying to rewrite history.

“I’m not⁠—”

“I heard Hawthorne apothecary isn’t in business anymore. People need supplies, Juni. You should understand that.”

Her expression drops, her glare flattering. Her fingers twitch at her sides, clenching and unfurling. The old apothecary has many memories for her. It does for all of us. I can be empathetic, but…

This is a good thing. Her mom can retire like she wants to, and the witches can still get their supplies.

Her glower is back more quickly than I would like. “We’re taking a temporary hiatus.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. We were always planning on coming back.”

“I welcome it,” I say. “Competition is healthy. You should know that if you’re planning on running a business. Neither of us needs to have a monopoly on selling herbs.”

“If you knew anything about this, you would know it’s more than herbs.”

“I get that. Believe me, I do.”

The old Hawthorne shop means a lot to me, too. It speaks of weekends spent shopping with my father, of stocking up on rosemary and clear quartz together. It reminds me of bickering with Juniper while our parents chatted by the register. Hell, I got my first tarot reading from her mother.

She charged me five bucks and helped me avoid flunking calculus. Mrs. Hawthorne is a wise woman, and I respect her family.

“Why don’t you take a moment and look around?” I gesture as I come out from behind the counter, standing close to Juniper.

She has to be a foot shorter than me. I remember when she was the taller one, but after my high school growth spurt, that changed—and I kept growing well into college.

Now, she has to tilt her chin to keep fixing me with her death glare.

“I don’t want anything you’re selling,” she says.

“Oh? Do you have a nice, fresh stock in your abandoned store?”

“Yes—and it’s not abandoned! I told you—we’re reopening.”

“No one in town knows you’re reopening. That’s not good for business. A grand opening should come with some fanfare.”

“Then how come I haven’t heard about your business?”

“Because you haven’t been paying attention. The rest of town is talking about it.”

“Everyone already knows about our apothecary. I don’t need a fancy marketing plan to get people in the door.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“I am.”

“Let me rephrase that.” With a smile, I take a step closer. “I hope you’re right. I would hate for something to go wrong. I love that old shop as much as you do.”

My words are genuine, but she won’t take them that way.

“That’s impossible,” she says. “No one loves it as much as my sisters and me.”

“I mean it. I want to see you succeed.”

“You’re giving me the evil eye, aren’t you?” Her eyes widen. “How dare you curse our reopening?”

I lift my hands in surrender. “I’m not!”

“I’m onto you. Don’t think you can pull a fast one on me.”

“I would never, ever think that.”

Her chest heaves—a sign of anger—but I force my eyes to stay on hers.

After a moment, she turns on her heel. “Stay out of my way.”

“I intend on it.” I return to my spot behind the counter. “Best of luck with your shop, Juni!”

The chimes on the door are the last thing I hear before she storms off.

Gods. How can one little, angry person be so adorable?

JUNIPER

I’m too sensitive, and it’s too late to take it back. I’m already sprinting from the building and do not intend to return.

It’s just that I would have liked some warning—not about him being back in town, though that was certainly a shock, but about the new apothecary.

When I came to town today, I was looking for a job. Seeing Ozan again was not on the agenda. It’s been years since I’ve thought about or spoken to him. We both went off to college when we were eighteen.

He never came back. The most I saw were glimpses of him around the holidays, usually with his gorgeous girlfriend.

I never thought he would return to Starbrook. He lived only four hours away, but his life seemed to contrast mine. Now, it couldn’t seem more similar. He’s here, and he’s running an apothecary.

Ozan is doing everything I’m supposed to do.

The realization is still sinking in as I stomp down main street.

Ozan is a talented witch. He’s an expert spellcaster. I’ll admit he has enough knowledge and wisdom to own the shop. When he ran away to live and work as a human, I assumed he would become disconnected from the craft.

It appears I was mistaken. There’s even a chance I was projecting; moving to a big city and living an everyday life was once a dream of mine.

I should keep looking for a job, but I’m too rattled to care about my bank account. I stop outside of the apothecary instead—our apothecary. This time, when I think of memories, I think of one with Ozan. I have quite a few memories with him. He and his family were always coming around the shop.

Most of my times with him are a blur of bickering.

One stands out as unique. It was our senior year, and I was working alone. I may not want to run the apothecary now, but working there was a blast. Out of all my jobs, it was my favorite.

He came in looking for herbs for his spells, and that should have been the end of the interaction. It wasn’t. Not by far.

I can’t remember how we ended up kissing. One moment, we were arguing about whether roses are baneful or beneficial in magic. Then my lips were on his… and I started it.

It was hard, quick, and confusing. It was my first real kiss. He’ll always be a part of that memory, and I can’t erase it.

He looks better than before. Ozan isn’t awkward and gangly anymore. His dark hair and eyes are a vision next to his golden complexion. I would even call him attractive. He’s still tall; he has to be a foot taller than me, but he looks strong, rugged, and⁠—

There’s a tapping on the glass. It drags me from my thoughts, and with a jump and a squeak, I return to the present.

Maple is inside—and she’s waving at me.

“What are you doing in there?” My eyes widen.

I’ve been assuming the others aren’t keen on entering the shop any more than I am. That doesn’t seem to be the case. Maple looks at home in the abandoned apothecary.

What does it say if I’m the only one avoiding it?

She runs to the door and swings it open, gesturing rapidly. “Come in, come in. It’s cold out!” She chuckles. “And I know how you are with the cold.”

“I am perfectly normal with the cold.” I enter the shop in a huff. “The rest of you are strange.”

The warmth envelops me, and I let out a soft, wistful sigh. The apothecary is nostalgic. It’s as if I’ve gone back in time…back to when my mother was here. Any moment now, she’ll poke her head around the corner and ask if I want tea or hot chocolate.

My throat is tight as I look around the empty place. It still smells like dust and cedar. Like her.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” Maple says.

“Neither was I.” I turn to her with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I come here to relax sometimes. Usually after my shift. It’s on the way home and all…”

“You find it relaxing?”

“Of course!” She lets out a soft laugh. “This is where I feel Mom’s energy—more than anywhere. More than the house. This place is her.”

And I let her die—in more ways than one. My throat tightens again, hard enough this time that I may choke. I push away the guilt and the grieving to focus on the shop.

Ozan and his apothecary are the wake-up call I need.

“I feel her, too,” I say.

The difference is I don’t want to feel her.

For the second time in one day, tears threaten to spill. I turn away, subtly swiping one from the corner of my misty eye.

“That’s not a bad thing.” Maple’s shoes click against the wooden floor as she approaches. Her warm hand rests on my shoulder. “Why are you avoiding her?”

“I don’t know.”

Because she’s disappointed in me. Because she hates me. I won’t say those things aloud. The others don’t understand—even Maple, who knows me better than anyone, won’t get it.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks. “I’ll walk you home. C’mon.”

Yes. I want to run away and never look back—not to erase my memories with Mom, but to leave them here, where I know they’re safe. I don’t want to relive them.

“No.” I turn to my sister and lie to her face. “Quite the contrary. I’m ready to reopen the shop.”

Her face lights up. “Really? Are you sure?”

I nod.

“Why now?” She squints. “Does this have anything to do with Ozzy?”

I’m not the only witch who saw his grand opening. Why didn’t the others tell me about it?

I flinch. “Don’t remind me.”

“I knew it! He always had a way of getting under your skin.”

“This has nothing to do with him!” I turn away. “It’s for us. It’s for mom. You said this place is her. If we let it die…”

“I don’t think we’re letting her down if that’s what you’re implying.”

“But think of how happy she would be to see us running it.”

“Us?” Maple wants to dance. I can feel it. Her energy is positively vibrant as she bounces on the heels of her feet. “Does that mean you want help running it?”

“Yes,” I say. “Is that so surprising?”

“Honestly…”

“Please. Be honest.”

“Of course, it’s a surprise. You never let us help you.”

I press my lips together. Maple is correct, and it’s a subtle thing my other sisters may not realize. They’re not supposed to help me. I’m their big sister. I helped them learn to walk, talk, and all the things big sisters do. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

They don’t need my help anymore, not in that way, but I can’t go to them. This shop is an exception. Mom gave it to me, but it’s theirs as much as mine.

“I don’t mean to be like that,” I say.

“I know—and I know it’s partially her fault. She taught you to be like this, even if she didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t…don’t blame her. Not here.”

I blamed her enough myself, especially when she was still with us. I loved my mother, and I still do, but we had a complicated relationship. She did her best. She still wasn’t perfect—none of us are.

My mother was a kind, warm woman, but she was only one person. We didn’t have a second parent to help. I naturally took on the role.

Whether that meant working at the shop, taking my sisters to practice, or getting them to bed on time. That fell on my shoulders, and it was more than a teenager should have been responsible for.

“I’m not blaming her,” she says softly. “But I see you.”

“What if I don’t want to be seen?”

“Then we can focus on opening the shop, and I’ll pretend I see nothing.” Her smile brightens. “There’s a lot of work to do around here.”

Maple is always good at focusing on the bright side.

“I know.” I shrug. “And I’m looking for work, anyway. Maybe the timing is… actually right. I think this will work out for us.”

“I think so, too.”

Everything happens for a reason—or at least, most things do. I lost my job at just the right time. Now, I can throw everything I have into the apothecary.

Chapter 5

Ozan

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I don’t get a break until an hour before closing, which gives me just enough time to tidy up for the day. Running an operation alone is different than being one piece of a giant puzzle.

A cocky, naïve part of me expected this to be easier, but it’s not. Between bumping into familiar faces, answering their questions, and running around to meet the needs of my customers…

I’m exhausted at the end of the day. It’s a pleasant kind of exhaustion, one that comes from success. The shop being busy is a positive omen for the future. That doesn’t keep my feet and back from aching. I can’t wait to go to my little apartment, crack open a beer, and sleep.

Tomorrow, I will repeat it all.

The chimes on the door hit my ear just when I’m about to close shop for the night. It’s one hour before closing. I thought I could shut down early, but that’s not an option, is it? Witches need their supplies.

I force a tired smile as I lift my head to greet them. My expression relaxes when I see who it is. Antoni is an old friend from high school. He’s not a witch, but that’s fine—our goods can be helpful for everyone. There are even some humans who use our herbs for floorwash.

I have a feeling he isn’t here for the herbs, though. If I know Antoni at all—and I do—he’s here for gossip. I’ve never been good at that.

“I heard you were back.” He leans on the alchemist’s table, his large palms splaying on the wood. “Why didn’t I hear it from you, huh? Last I heard, we’re friends on the gram.”

“I deactivated mine—and you changed your number, didn’t you?”

There were too many pictures of Vanessa to delete, and I didn’t have the heart to go through them all. Disappearing from social media felt easier.

“Guilty,” he says. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry.” I let out a lighthearted laugh. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming, but… it’s good to see you, man.”

“Right back at you.” He looks around, scanning the shelves of books and herbs. “Well, shit. The old pharmacy has never looked better. Does this mean you’re back for good?”

“I guess it does…”

He squints. “Is your wife here with you?”

I tense. “No. We’re…” I hate having to explain this. It’s why I left Boston. There are fewer people to be attached to us as a couple. But people in small towns are nosy.

“Got it,” he says. “Say no more.”

“Thanks.”

Antoni will spread the word around town for me. It’s a blessing, in a way. At least he’s not expecting me to put it into words. I’m not in denial—not anymore—but it still isn’t something I enjoy talking about.

“Went through one of those myself.” He wiggles his fingers, displaying his lack of a ring. “Sometimes it doesn’t work out, yeah?”

“Yeah…” And sometimes they don’t work out because the love of your life leaves you for your best friend. I know better than to tell Antoni about that. “I didn’t even know you were married.”

“It was a private affair.”

“You? Private? I can’t imagine that.”

“Nah, but the guy I was with… well, enough about that,” Antoni says. “This is about you. I’m proud of you. Starbrook needs this.”

“Not everyone has been as happy.”

There was only one person displeased by the shop. Juniper. I can’t wrap my head around her reasons for being upset. Sure, her family ran the last apothecary, but mine isn’t a slight against her.

Not that it matters. Staying on her good side is impossible, and I never cared to do it in the past.

“Starbrook has been struggling to get supplies,” he says. “And not just that—potions, divination, everything. It’s more than the witches who are suffering. The werewolves haven’t had anything to help them with their transformations.”

“That’s true.” I let out a long sigh. “You don’t realize how helpful an apothecary is until it’s gone.”

“Exactly. It’s bittersweet, with Mrs. Hawthorne passing and all⁠—”

“Wait.” My heart stops. “Mrs. Hawthorne? What?”

I know the shop is closed—that’s all my parents told me—but I assumed she retired. Both of my parents are retired. It’s the natural progression of life.

I suppose death is, too.

Juniper’s bitterness makes sense now. I’m an asshole.

“It was a tragedy,” he says. “I heard some demons did it, but I don’t know.”

“Demons?” My brow furrows.

“Yeah, but I guess no one knows for sure. The Hawthorne women are keeping it hush.”

“It’s none of our business,” I say firmly.

Antoni may disagree.

He goes silent for a moment and shrugs. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“How long ago did she pass?”

“A year.”

It lines up with the timing of the shop closing, too. I look around. A few hours ago, I couldn’t be prouder. The feeling is replaced with a twist of guilt and regret. If I knew… well, I would have offered to help them with their shop instead of becoming a competitor.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I mutter.

“What?” Antoni’s eyes widen. “Don’t say that!”

“We already have an apothecary.”

“We don’t, and we’re struggling. For all we know, they’re going to close up forever. You’re doing important work here. I’m hoping to get a pain reliever potion for Ma. She’s recovering from hip surgery.”

Even knowing I’m helping his mother with her pain can’t make me feel better. Nothing can.

I need to talk to Juniper. That’s the only way to make this right.

Chapter 6

Juniper

I’m on a fence between two options: find a new job or reopen the apothecary. The first option is a wiser financial decision. If I open the shop, there’s a potential I won’t make as much money as I need to. Running a business has too many question marks.

But can my mental health handle working another job I hate? I’m still unconvinced.

It’s early in the morning when I amble onto my front porch. The sky is gray, and it’s cold enough that I pull my cardigan tighter. Our porch is as cluttered as the rest of the house, but there’s something out of place among the chimes and potted plants…

A bouquet in a lovely white vase. I know who it’s from…and precisely what it means.

Few people know the perfect flowers to get someone who is mourning. That’s the job of a florist—or a witch. We speak the language of flowers unlike anyone else. This mystery person brought me carnations, daisies, and lilies. All white.

I know a funeral bouquet when I see one. We received many when the loss was still fresh. There is only one person in town who hasn’t already given us a bouquet…

Ozan is telling me to mourn my mother’s shop. That’s what this is. He’s rubbing salt in the wounds I’ve spent a year tending to.

My hands shake as I pick up the vase, lifting the tag to see who it’s from.

It has only two words written on it:

Condolences.

-Oz.

The fence I’ve been sitting on collapses beneath me. I slam the front door shut. My mind is made up when I get into my car and drive to town.

More specifically, I head to his apothecary.

It’s early enough that his shop is closed. I peer into the glass, and there he is, pouring herbs into jars. I’ve never seen a more peaceful sight. His little brown rabbit hops around the shop without a care in the world, and—all right, the bunny is cute.

But the man? He’s on my list.

I rap my knuckles against the glass. His head jerks up, and dark, wide eyes meet mine.

His surprise turns into amusement, and his eyes crinkle as he greets me at the door. Why is he so happy to see me?

He must be a masochist.

“You’re here earlier than I expected,” he says.

“Of course, you’re expecting me.” I hold out the vase. “Is that what this is about? A desperate attempt at getting my attention?”

“They’re flowers.” He rolls his eyes. “And there was a card—you know what it’s about.”

“I’m here to return them.”

“No, thank you. I have a strict return policy.”

I step closer, and he steps back, letting me into the shop.

“We’re running into a problem,” I say. “You won’t take this back, and I have no interest in your pity. Where do we go from here?”

“They aren’t pity flowers.”

“What are they?”

“I heard about your mother.” His smile dissolves. He looks away, moving behind the counter to busy himself with the jars of herbs. “I didn’t know. Honest.”

“Sure, you didn’t.”

Everyone knows. It’s a small town, and people talk—even when the topic of gossip is grim. Ozan may have just returned to Starbrook, but I’m positive someone told him.

“I didn’t. My parents weren’t even aware. They told me the store had been closed for a year. I thought she retired.”

“She did. Death is the ultimate retirement.” I cross my arms and look away, staring at the display of old keys.

“The flowers are to show my condolence. There’s no ulterior motive.”

I scoff. “Do you mean to say you wouldn’t have opened your shop if you knew she…”

I can’t finish the sentence.

“I don’t know what I would have done, but it would have been different.”

At least he’s honest. His warm eyes bore into me.

“How?” I ask.

“I would have talked to you about it first, especially if I knew you were planning on opening up the ol’ apothecary again. You know I love that place. I have good memories there.”

“Oh?” I lift a brow. “Like what?”

His cheeks turn red. “Uh…” He shrugs. “Learning how to read tarot. Your mom did a class every summer.”

“I remember.” I move closer, resting my hands on his table. “Stop trying to butter me up. There’s nothing you can do to make me happy about this.”

“I’m not trying to do anything. All I’m doing here is running a shop. People need supplies.”

“I know,” I say, “and I’m going to make sure they have them.”

“Are you?”

“I am.”

“Good for you.”

I think back to Laurel’s tarot reading. She said I was going to reunite with someone from the past—and I guess she was right—but she didn’t see that it’s not about the person.

It’s about reuniting with something from the past. Our family apothecary. That’s what I’m focusing my energy on.

I set the flowers on his table. “You sprung for the vase. I’m impressed.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t want it. It looks nicer in here.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t keep that here. You’ll have to throw it away yourself if you don’t want it.”

I narrow my eyes.

We both know it isn’t an option. If my mother taught me one thing, it was to make use of any and all ingredients.

“Are they edible?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “They’re commercial, from the Main Street Florist. Full of pesticides.”

“Great.” I roll my eyes. “You have bad taste in flowers, in addition to everything else that is wrong with you…”

“They still have their uses.”

“You don’t need to tell me about potion ingredients,” I say. “These can’t be used for any potion that needs to be consumed, which is most of them.”

I know the use of each flower in the vase. Daisies are for love, fertility, and joy. They expand upon the potion. Lilies are repelling. Carnations are perfect for healing.

“They can still work for spells,” he says.

“I’m not a spellcaster. You are. Goddess, even the gifts you give are selfish.”

“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t want to waste those if I were you.”

“I can’t trust ingredients coming from you. Source matters. You should know that.”

“Cleanse them.” He lifts a brow.

It’s an obvious answer, but he shouldn’t point it out as if it is!

“Brilliant,” I say.

“If you’re going to keep dragging your feet with your grand reopening, you should get used to getting your ingredients from me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lupine is the only apothecary in town these days…”

“We’re opening next week,” I say.

We’re not. Maple and I briefly discussed the opening, but we don’t have any solidified plans. I think a week should be enough time.

“What?” He lets out boisterous laughter.

“Why are you so surprised? It’s not as if we have a lot to do. Preparations will be easy…”

“You can’t reopen in a week.”

“Why? Does that get in the way of your opening?” I lean in. My face is inches from his. “Good.”

“No.” He smiles. “That won’t be a problem for me, and I’m sure it has nothing to do with me. You said you’ve been planning this for a while, right?”

“Right!”

Wrong. When my mother died, I decided never to open the shop again. I can’t sell it either. It wasn’t until this moment that I knew it would be reopened, and now, there’s a new fire in me.

I turn on my heel and snatch the vase right back up. “I’ll be taking this.”

“Good. I got it for you.”

“Great. Thank you.”

“Great.”

He’s annoying—and I want to tell him, but the words are lost in a huff as I storm from the shop. He hasn’t opened for the day, and a small group of witches is already waiting outside.

I hate when Ozan is right—and he is in this case. The people of Starbrook, and the surrounding towns, need their supplies. I’ve been ignoring them, but I can’t keep doing that.

I can’t give up on my mother either.

“Are they open?” An unfamiliar witch peers past me into the glass.

He won’t be opening for half an hour, but while I’m here… I’ll make his day more challenging.

“Yes,” I say. “Go on in.”

I stride to my car, and once seated, I send two texts to Rowan.

Juniper

I need your help.

With finances.

Scratch that.

I need your help with a BUSINESS.

I meet Rowan at our apothecary. This is happening too quickly, but I’m the one pushing it. I’ve gone from avoiding the place for a year to visiting twice in a day. I’m still uncomfortable here, and it seems like Rowan is, too.

She walks through the apothecary as if she expects the floorboards to disappear underneath her. Each step is delicate and calculated.

Rowan is about my height, but she’s thin and sprite. While I started dying my hair black years ago, she still sports her natural auburn—and a pair of baby bangs.

“It smells like mom in here.” Rowan frowns as she walks through the room.

“I know. It feels like her, too.”

For a spell, I only hear the furnace radiating and Rowan’s hesitant steps.

Whether being reminded of our mom is good or bad—I can’t say. I’ve spent a year running away from her, but it’s hard when I’m living in her old house. Now, I’m thinking about reopening her business.

Others who lost their parents say they forget them with time. They can’t remember the way they smell, sound, or laugh. I can’t imagine getting to that point. Everything about my mother is still etched in my mind—even the things I want to shake off.

Opening this shop means I’m intertwined with my mother in a way I never wished to be. It’s my choice, but it’s hers as well. She was the one who left me with this place.

I always loved her, but I hoped to be my own person… and my own witch. She was one of the most prolific witches in Maine, and I am constantly stuck in her shadow. We all are. I can still break free from that, but the pressure to carry her legacy is unbearable.

Why did she pick me to run this place? I don’t think she was trying to leave me with another burden, but she did.

Her death came too suddenly, and we never had time to talk about any of this. I never agreed to run the apothecary. Maybe she would have asked me about it…

If that demon didn’t take her from us so early.

“Is this the business you wanted to ask about?” Rowan looks at me over her spectacles.

She’s always been too perceptive—but I guess it became clear when I asked her to meet me here.

I nod, holding my breath.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It’s a big responsibility. You remember how much mom worked.”

“At least I don’t have five kids to take care of.” I smile halfheartedly.

“You’re right. May as well count our blessings, I suppose.” She sighs and strides to the office.

It’s a wreck. The office was always messy, but I don’t remember it being this bad. There are papers strewn about. A floorboard is lifted. The filing cabinets are open, with thick files making it impossible to close. The desktop computer is ancient, and the layer of dust will likely set off my allergies. I’m surprised Rowan didn’t come in to tidy the place up sooner.

At least I’m not the only sister avoiding her.

Rowan rifles through the files.

“Her books are a disaster,” Rowan says. “You wouldn’t know it, but this place was leaking money for years.” She slaps a crumpled piece of paper on the desk and smooths it out.

I look over Rowan’s shoulder. Even with my mother’s chicken scratch handwriting and my lack of expertise, I can see the problem.

“She’s been operating at a loss?” I ask.

“Mhm. If we reopen, we’ll have to raise the prices. That’s the only way we can make a profit.”

“Wonderful…” I sigh.

Rowan looks up at me. Her glasses slip down her nose. “You’ve been visiting Ozan’s new apothecary⁠—”

“I haven’t.”

The vase of flowers sitting in the main room says otherwise. I intend to dry them as soon as possible, but the conversation with Rowan has me sidetracked.

“Sure.” She eyes me up and down with a blank expression. “Have you looked at the prices over there?”

Of course, my most perceptive sister can see through me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No…”

“You should next time you go over. We’re raising our prices, but we still want competitive pricing compared to him.”

“You can’t just check for me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She smirks. “Because I don’t want to.”

My sisters are all grown up now, but there are moments when I feel like we’re still the same people we were when we were young. We love pushing each other’s buttons; the younger ones are especially frustrating.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll do it myself.”

“I’ll help with the numbers,” Rowan says. “I’m not leaving you here to drown. It will take a lot of work to get her records up to date, preferably in an actual bookkeeping program. From here on out, you can consider me your accountant.”

My eyes light up. “Really?”

“Of course.” She looks away from me and picks at the lint on her sweater. “It’s not as if you can afford one.”

I wince. “That’s true. It sounds like I can’t afford much of anything.”

She meets my gaze again, and while her stare is harsh, it’s earnest. “I’m not doing this for Mom. I’m doing it for you. If this isn’t what you want…”

“It is.”

“Make sure it’s really what you want. Running a business isn’t fun and games.”

“I know”—I let out a slow sigh—“and I still want to do it.”

“Okay,” she says. “Then I’ll help.”

It takes a few hours to wrangle the rest of my sisters into the shop. There’s no hope of Aspen coming, but I ask her to join us on Facetime.

Her response makes me roll my eyes.

Aspen

Can’t. Can you send me an email?

At least she’s predictable.

I don’t know when I’m going to see my sister again. I hope she’ll return for Winter Solstice, an important celebration among many witches, but I don’t hold my breath for her anymore. She barely visited home before our mother died, and last year, she jetted off to Paris to avoid our loneliest holiday season yet.

Laurel and Maple have no problem joining us. Maple finished work early in the morning, and Laurel…

Well, Laurel is unemployed, but she’s still the last to come. Her boots stomp against the wooden floor as she runs inside.

“Oh, my god!” she yelps. “It’s open!”

“Not quite,” I say. “We’re nowhere near ready.”

Laurel crosses her arms. “My tarot reading was right.”

“Tarot reading?” Rowan lifts a brow.

“The cards were right,” I say, “but your interpretation was incorrect.”

“It was close. It’s a return of the past, like I said it would be.” Laurel inhales deeply and wanders through the tiny space. “And it’s emotional.”

It’s lonely. The jars are empty. The only spot of life is the flowers I placed on the countertop. They’re pure white against the dusty, rustic shop. Their energy is lively compared to the staleness in the room.

I still won’t thank Ozan for the bouquet.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Maple says, sitting behind the counter. “Are we reopening the apothecary?”

Maple and Laurel seem more eager than I am. Their eyes sparkle. Mom should have given them the shop. Why didn’t she?

“I want to,” I say, “but I can’t do it without your help. Rowan is helping with the books and numbers⁠—”

“What can I do?” Maple asks.

Of course, sweet Maple is on my side without me explaining myself. She agrees even faster than Rowan.

“Um…” I let out a flustered laugh. “This is my first time running a business. I’m not sure what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Maple says. “We need to contact the suppliers—and start whipping up potions and spell kits…”

“And I need to organize the books,” Rowan says.

“And I”—Laurel flips her hair over her shoulder—“will do the hardest part of all.”

“What is that?” Rowan asks.

I would consider Rowan’s job the most burdensome, considering the state of our finances. Rowan likely agrees, but she lifts a brow rather than saying as much to Laurel.

“Marketing,” Laurel says. “It’s all online now.”

I frown, considering her offer. “Actually… that’s true.”

“Oh, trust me. I know.” Laurel slips her phone from her pocket. “I can get us on socials in no time. I always wanted to do it for Mom.”

“Good idea.” I smile proudly, my gaze moving over each of my sisters. “It’s going to be different this time. Ro says we need to raise the prices.”

Maple grimaces. “It’s a necessary evil. Mom hasn’t raised them since the 90s.”

I nod. “She was operating at a loss—but we still have a house to renovate.”

“There’s a lot to do,” Rowan says. “And there’s still the matter of actually running the place. Day-to-day operations. If those aren’t on point, nothing else matters.”

“That will be on me,” I say. “I’m between jobs right now, and I intend to make this place my full-time job.”

“It will be splendid!” Maple says.

My gaze drifts back to Laurel. “And maybe…”

Laurel looks up from her phone. “You want me to work the counter?” Her voice goes flat.

We all took turns working the counter in our teenage years, and Laurel was always the best. The customers like her, and most people around town know her. That doesn’t mean she enjoys it. Her attention moves fast, and she gets stir-crazy in the cramped space.

“I’ll be working with you,” I say. “You’ll never be alone. Almost never…” I mutter the last words under my breath.

“Fine,” Laurel says. “But if I’m doing something for you, I want to do something for me, too.”

“Like what?” I ask.

Laurel lifts her head higher. “I’m the new tarot reader. If someone wants a reading, they’re coming to me.”

My eyes widen. “Really? That’s a massive responsibility. You know how many people come in for readings.”

“I know,” Laurel says. “I’ll take it super seriously, I promise.”

I hesitate. “Okay…”

“I still don’t know my specialty. I’m good at tarot readings, but… I need more practice. For now, I can offer discounted readings.”

“And I can help with the herbs!” Maple says. “I know plenty of suppliers, and I may be able to get us a deal.”

“I can make cosmic charms.” Rowan sighs. “On the weekends. When I have time.”

“You’re already doing a lot.” Laurel’s brows furrow.

“I want to help.” Rowan shrugs. “My day job comes first, but I can make time.”

“You’re all helping. More than you know.” I look away from them and stare at the vase.

My heart pounds.

“Who are those from?” Laurel asks.

“Juni has a secret admirer.” Rowan snickers.

“Oh! Who is it?” Maple gasps.

“No one!” I turn away, crossing my arms. “They’re flowers for mourning. Someone just found out about Mom.”

The room goes silent.

“Well,” Laurel says, “Mom would want us to revive her passion project. Where do we start?”

“Market research.” Rowan smirks. “Juniper is going to go check the prices at the new apothecary. Why don’t you join her?”

Ugh. Right. I still have to visit my so-called secret admirer.

Chapter 7

Ozan

“You’re back?” I can’t hide my surprise.

Juniper returns an hour before closing, with someone following closely behind. It’s one of her sisters. The inch of ginger roots sprouting from her green hair makes it apparent. I still remember Juniper for her red hair, but her dark hair is as striking. She fixes me with a death glare, and I melt into a puddle.

I don’t know which sister this is. It’s definitely not Maple, the only other sister I’m familiar with, and…I don’t care who it is.

My eyes are stuck on Juniper. She was already here a few hours ago. Why the hell is she back? It seems like she’s making a pastime of tormenting me.

“Yes,” Juniper says in a tight voice. She exchanges a look with her sister. “I’m back.”

“You were here earlier?” the younger woman asks. She’s trying to whisper, but she’s loud enough for me to hear.

“Just for a moment,” Juniper says.

I move out from behind the counter. A few other witches browse the shop, my cat prowls around, and the bun is safely upstairs. Aiyla doesn’t like crowds.

“What can I help you with?” I linger near the pair.

The younger one looks me up and down. A slow smile appears on her face. It’s as if she’s noticing me for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Do you own this place?”

“Yes…” I chuckle nervously.

Where is she going with this? It should be evident that I’m the owner. Hasn’t Juniper told her about me? My eyes drift to Juniper, and I tilt my head to the side, begging her to answer a silent question.

What is going on here?

“Wow,” the stranger says. “You have got to be the hottest shop owner I’ve ever seen.”

My eyes widen. That’s not what I was expecting. This Hawthorne seems to handle things differently from her sister.

“Laurel!” Juniper hisses. For once, her glare is pointed at someone else. “Be professional.”

“It’s fine.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Let me know if I can help you guys with anything—any supplies, I mean, not⁠—”

“We get it,” Juniper says.

“Cool.” I turn away, desperate to avoid the younger Hawthorne. “I’ll just…”

Juniper’s voice makes me freeze. “Actually…we have a few questions for you.”

I wheel back around. “Oh?”

Juniper nods. “We were wondering how much you charge for, say, a tarot deck.”

Last I knew, Juniper was planning on reopening her family shop. I can’t imagine why she’s interested in one of my decks, but I’m curious. I’ll bite.

“That would depend on the deck,” I say. “Come on.”

I have an impressive collection of cards. Some I brought from Boston, and others are from local artists. We stop in front of the display, and I gesture vaguely.

“The traditional one,” I say, “goes for twenty bucks. But if you want this hand-painted… that’ll be closer to fifty.”

“This one is gorgeous.” Laurel gasps, brushing her fingers against the gold-foiled letters on the box.

Juniper swats her hands away. “We have better decks at home.”

“I guess…” Laurel frowns. She doesn’t seem so sure.

Juniper hesitates before turning away from the decks. Her eyes wander to the stack of bundled herbs—rosemary, lavender, and more. “What about the bundles?”

“Five bucks,” I say. “For any of them.”

“You go with a flat-rate price?” Juniper asks.

“It’s easier that way,” I say.

My suspicion grows by the moment, but I continue playing her game.

“And your crystals?” Juniper asks. “Let’s say, a generic clear quartz.”

I click my tongue. “That depends on the size. You know that.”

Juniper is playing dumb—and the more questions she asks, the more I think she’s not here to shop. I lead her to the crystals anyway, picking up a massive slab of quartz.

“This thing?” I hold it up to the light. “This will go for sixty dollars. But if you want a little point—that will only run a few bucks.”

“I’d like a breakdown of your price by weight,” Juniper says.

I squint.

“Please,” her sister adds.

I set the quartz down and cross my arms. “You’re not here as customers, are you?”

“No.” Juniper lifts her head higher. “You cannot truly think we would shop here.”

“Actually,” Laurel says, “I’m coming back for the deck. You can’t stop me.”

Juniper glares at her.

“I’ll give you a discount,” I tell Laurel, grinning. Anything to get under Juniper’s skin.

It works. Her face is red when she looks at me again.

I lift my hands, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You know what!” Juniper snaps.

“You’re in my shop,” I say.

“Yeah,” Laurel says, “I don’t think you should talk to him like that. How would you feel if someone came into our shop like this?”

I snicker.

“I’m leaving!” Juniper announces, marching away.

“Wait!” I call.

She pauses. Both witches look at me.

“I’ll give you a breakdown of my prices,” I say. “Free of charge.”

Juniper turns back around with narrowed eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you need help,” I say, “and Starbrook has never been about competition. Why would it be now?”

I know why. It has nothing to do with the town and everything to do with Juniper and me. We’ll never be close enough to be coven mates or even friends. Hell, I don’t think she considers me an acquaintance.

It doesn’t matter. I’m still going to help her out when I can.

And I do, even though I know it’s silly to put so much effort into someone who doesn’t like me. I send them away with a printout of my prices. It does nothing to lift Juniper’s spirits. There’s still a scowl on her face when she leaves.

JUNIPER

“You need to tell me who that fine specimen is right now,” Laurel hisses.

“He’s no one. Drop it.”

We got what we came for, but I don’t feel successful on the way out. I pass the papers to Laurel, not wanting to think about them. His prices are higher than Mom’s. That means we can raise ours without suffering too badly, but…

I can’t believe I’m competing with Ozan again—and he’s winning! People were in his shop until the last minute. How? I bet he’s not even doing online marketing.

I guess that’s one thing we can do better than him.

This feels too much like when we were young, always neck-in-neck with our studies, and the class president debates, and …there’s a lot more, but who cares?

I’m an adult now. He shouldn’t be able to rattle me like this.

“That was definitely someone,” she says. “A whole lot of someone, if you know what I mean.”

“Laurel!”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“Fine.” My jaw tenses. “He’s someone I knew in high school. Is that the answer you’re looking for?”

“Ah… I see.” Her smile is full of mirth. “I know who he is. You don’t have to tell me.”

I groan and open my car door. “Then why are you asking me silly questions?”

“Because he’s the one from the reading!”

I stare at her with wide eyes until she disappears into the car. I scurry to get inside. “He is not.”

“Oh, yes, he is!”

“That man is the bane of my existence. He may be returning from the past, but it’s not in a-a-a… not in a six of cups way.”

“But you admit you have history.”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“The cards never lie.”

“They do,” I say. “That’s one of Mom’s first lessons. We can interpret things wrong, or the timing can be incorrect, or⁠—”

“Fine. Witches can make mistakes. That’s true. This isn’t one of those times. Mark my words. That man is the six of cups.”

“No. That’s impossible. You don’t understand⁠—”

“He gave you those flowers, didn’t he? That’s the most literal depiction of the six of cups.”

“Enough!” I lift a hand. “I’m setting a boundary. We are not talking about Ozan anymore.”

“Is that his name?” She gasps. “Ozan! Oh, I am totally doing a wax-scrying spell tonight.”

“You had better not. I don’t consent.”

“But Juniper! Wax scrying for your future spouse is so romantic.”

Thinking about Ozan being my future spouse makes me sick to my stomach.

“No. No way,” I say. “I’m not dating right now—and if I were, I would not be dating him.”

I once thought love was for me—before countless breakups, being ghosted on dating apps, and…gods. It’s certainly not for me now. It can’t be. I have a shop to run and sisters to care for.

It’s the same reason Mom never dated after our father left, and it’s the rule I’m sticking to.

“Fine.” Laurel pouts. “I won’t do anything without your permission, but…”

“There are no buts.”

“There is. Fate doesn’t fuck around.” While the words are crass, there’s something wise about how she says them. “You can try to avoid him, but if he’s the one my cards showed me… it’s inevitable.”

She can say whatever she wants.

Laurel is mistaken. The cards may not be, but she is. If the gods send me the gift of love—and I doubt they will—it must be in a different package.

Ozan is a lovely package from the outside. He’s tall and rugged, and he can grow an impressive beard…

His personality is what ruins it.

“I guess we’ll see.” I’ll say anything to make her drop the conversation.

Chapter 8

Ozan

Juniper wasn’t lying about the reopening. A week later, Starbrook is abuzz with news about their shop. Juniper stops coming by, too. I don’t know whether to be relieved or regretful, but my shop keeps me too busy to think about it for long.

I should be worried about the competition, but there’s room for us both. They offer things I can’t, after all. I don’t have Juniper’s potion expertise. The potions on my shelves come from another witch, which makes them more costly and less personalized.

But I have a cute bunny—and an adorable cat! They can’t beat the business Aiyla and Evren bring in.

My spell-casting expertise makes me stand out. As far as I know, none of the Hawthorne sisters can do the type of work I do. Any witch can cast a simple spell, like starting a fire. My casting is closer to rituals, which require intense raw energy. All types of folks come in to ask me for good luck spells, money spells, and help to attract a new job.

The shop is quiet today, which gives me enough time to focus on the promotion spell for today’s client—a vampire lawyer. I tie the petition to the candle, humming as I work. With skillful fingers, I roll the candle in the herbs—mint and rosemary, my preferred herbs for this kind of ritual.

I should be able to focus. It’s a simple spell. I’ve done it a hundred times for myself and others, yet my attention wavers. My head keeps lifting, and I look out the window without intending to.

I know why my shop is so empty. It must be opening day for the Hawthorne Apothecary. I should leave them to it. Their shop is probably overflowing, the way mine was a week ago.

Curiosity gets the best of me. What changes have they made? Did they come up with a new name or new offerings for their clients? I could learn about it from the usual town gossip, but that isn’t my style.

Before I know it, I’m slipping on my brown coat, locking up, and heading out the door. Their shop is a quick walk away. This is like taking an early lunch. No big deal.

Unlike the Hawthorne sisters, I’m not snooping because of some competition. It’s nostalgic for me; it must be for them, too. I miss the old shop.

The apothecary comes into view, and my eyes grow bright. The little place is overflowing, and even from the outside, I can spot all the sisters. Their vibrant hair makes them easy to find in a crowd.

One of them—Maple—stands outside the shop. I know her well enough, considering she was only a year behind me in school. I wave as I head toward her, and Maple returns the greeting.

We’ve never been close, but she’s always been friendlier than Juniper.

“Morning,” I say.

“Good morning to you!” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Are you here to join in the festivities?”

“Maybe. What’s going on in there?”

“Big opening day sale. Our prices will go up tomorrow but for today… we’re treating everyone to Mom’s old prices.”

I press my lips together. I shouldn’t say anything, but I already have my concerns. This adds to them. “Your mom’s prices were ridiculously low.”

“That’s why we’re raising them!”

I peer into the shop. A sale is a good way to get a boost early on, but I worry the crowd will thin in the upcoming days with the price change.

“Mind if I step inside?” I ask.

“Go on in!” Maple holds out a stack of flyers, and I take one. “We’re open for everyone.”

“Would Juniper say the same?”

“Maybe not.” Maple giggles. “Go in and ask her yourself.”

The flyer is unique. There’s a moth on the front, which looks hand-drawn—likely by Juniper herself. She was always the artistic type.

Hawthorne Apothecary Grand Reopening!

Everything is 25% off.

Potions, herbs, tarot readings, and more.

When I enter the lively shop, my attention shifts between the flyer and the crowd. It smells of pumpkin spice and incense, and the area is warm enough that my bones feel heavy as I walk through. Soft chatter and music fill the air.

The other sisters are scattered around. Laurel is doing tarot readings in the corner, their other sister is working the register, and Juniper is…

Well, she’s bumping right into me.

“I’m so sorry!” she yelps.

“It’s fine.” I instinctively reach for her, holding her elbows to keep her upright.

Juniper’s tune changes the second she realizes it’s me. How flattering. Her eyes narrow.

“Watch it.” She jerks out of my hold and steps away, only to fall into a humongous cauldron. “Oof!”

A big smile stretches on my face, but I fight off laughter as I grab her hands and pull her out.

“I don’t need your”—Juniper squeaks as I pull her to her feet—“help.” Her cheeks are as red as her hair once was. She brushes her hands down her dark skirt and shakes her head.

Of course, she doesn’t thank me. I’m not expecting her to.

“Sorry about that,” I say. “It’s packed in here.”

“Of course it is! Hawthorne Apothecary is an institution.”

“It is. I didn’t mean to sound surprised.”

Juniper is a frazzled mess—but a beautiful one. Dark hair is piled on her head, with loose tendrils framing her face. Her lashes are long and dark, and the black lip stain draws my eyes to her plush lips. My attention wanders lower. There’s a green stain covering her cream-colored dress, and—shit. I’m staring at her chest, aren’t I?

I don’t realize until it’s too late. My eyes flicker up to meet hers.

“What happened there?” I ask.

If my staring wasn’t blatant, the question makes it obvious. I regret it once I ask. My face feels hot.

She lifts a brow. “What? You’ve never spilled a potion before?”

“Nope. Never.”

“A sign you’re an amateur.”

“You’ll have to teach me more about potion spilling sometime. I didn’t realize it was a requirement.”

“Oh, you…” She tucks a loose tendril of her dark, wavy hair behind her ear. “Why are you here, Ozan? I don’t remember extending an invitation.”

“Isn’t this open for all? That’s what Maple says.”

“It is, but I wasn’t expecting to see you…”

She’s not telling me to leave. I should read between the lines. Between her snappy words and the frown on her lips, it’s plain that she’s unhappy to see me.

“I’m here to congratulate you.” I gesture vaguely. “This is looking like a successful opening day. Good job.”

“Oh, you are just…”

“I mean it!” My eyes widen. Even when I’m on my best behavior, I find a way to upset her. “It’s good to see you back in business.”

“You sound so sarcastic.”

“I’m not!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You have trust issues.” I shake my head, suppressing more laughter. “Who hurt you?”

“No one!” Her face pinches. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Congratulating you?” The laughter I’ve held back bursts out, unleashing without my permission. I doubt it will do anything to improve Juniper’s mood.

“Acting like we’re friends!”

“We don’t have to be friends,” I say, “but we can be friendly.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Her lips pop open, but nothing comes out for a few moments. “This is deliberate!”

“What is?”

“You moved here with the sole intention of upsetting me.”

“Can you hear yourself right now?” I tilt my head to the side. “Really. Listen to what you’re saying. You think I moved states to hurt you?”

If she knew the reality of why I moved here, I think Juniper would have more sympathy. We’re both going through a loss, but it’s hard to see past your feet when you’re mourning the end of someone or something you care about.

“You’re right.” She shakes her head, deflating. “That was a bit far—but you definitely get pleasure from seeing me all… all… ruffled!”

“I do.” I shrug. “It’s cute.”

Her eyes widen, and her lips part. “I beg your most unbelievable pardon?”

“You get worked up easily. You always have. I think it’s funny. You’re like a bird with ruffled feathers.”

“Only around you. You’re the only one who does this to me.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be!”

“Whatever you say.” I carefully step away; my eyes are stuck on her piercing gaze.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

It almost sounds like she wants me around. I know better than to say it out loud.

“You haven’t put me out of business yet. I still have a shop to run,” I say. “I’ll see you around, Juni.”

I leave before she can get mad at me for using the nickname.

JUNIPER

We barely get a moment to breathe. It’s cathartic to see so many familiar faces popping in and out—and a few new ones, too. Witches from all over central Maine come to the grand reopening of the Hawthorne Apothecary.

As I told Ozan, it’s an institution. Even he couldn’t disagree with me.

I’m still reeling from the conversation with him when someone else approaches. At least this time, it’s a welcome face.

My mother’s old friend, Janice, visits us a few hours before closing. She’s the same age my mother would have been. Her hair is gray, and her face is wrinkled beautifully. Aging is a gift to witches. Humans buy anti-aging potions from us, but we rarely use them ourselves. Each wrinkle is a sign of wisdom.

I can still remember celebrating my mother’s first gray hair.

“I am so pleased to see Hawthorne Apothecary is open once more.” Janice holds my shoulders. “You did it.”

I let out a breath. Tension releases from me, and my eyes are misty again. It’s been a long, strange day of wearing my mother’s shoes.

“You’re pleased?” I ask.

It’s childish, but if I can’t please my mother... Janice is the next best thing.

Her warm, green eyes twinkle. “Of course, I am. Nothing makes me happier than seeing your mother’s legacy live on.”

“Nothing?” I lift a brow, smirking. “Not even being able to buy your herbs in town?”

“That is a close second.” She chuckles and glances in the corner of the room. “Is Laurel doing tarot readings?”

I nod. “She’s taking over Mom’s old position. She’s pretty good, too.” Aside from the dud reading she gave me.

“I’ll go see for myself,” Janice says, wandering away.

There’s no time for me to shake off the nostalgia and mourning before my eyes lock onto another familiar face. My lips part. Shock hits me like a burst of air.

“Denise?” I close the space between us, striding toward the crystal display she’s admiring.

“What?” My old boss turns to me with a smirk. “You didn’t think I would hear about this?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t realize news spread so far.”

“Well, it did.”

“And…?”

“I’m impressed.” She nods. “When I told you to find something you care about, I didn’t think this would be it.”

“Neither did I.”

“But you do care, right?” Something about the way she looks at me makes me uneasy. It’s not as if she has ill intentions. Her gaze sweeps over me, and it feels like she’s trying to figure me out…

Like she knows something I don’t.

“I do,” I say.

It doesn’t feel like a lie. Caring about the family apothecary is synonymous with caring about my mother. Of course, I care.

“Good.” Denise smiles. “I’m excited for you. If you need any help with the business side of things…”

“I still have your number.”

“Then I’ll be hearing from you.”

Asking Denise for advice would require swallowing my pride. That’s something I can’t do.

“Thanks for coming,” I say, brushing off the conversation. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

After closing, we return home to let the workers in. Opening the shop during kitchen renovations is a terrible idea; it means my schedule is busy. The bustle is preferable after spending too many days in the land of unemployment.

They’re working on our floorboards today, which leaves us huddled in our living room.

“I made five hundred bucks.” Laurel looks at us with wide eyes. “What am I supposed to do with all this?”

She sits on our living room floor, counting the bills on the coffee table. Maple rests beside me with her feet on an emerald-green ottoman.

“You can help pay for the floors,” I drawl.

Laurel pulls the money closer to herself. “I remembered something I need to buy.”

“Oh?”

I don’t expect Laurel to help. Mom didn’t leave us with much money, but we have enough to pay for the essential renovations. Laurel doesn’t have much income anyway. I won’t take what little she makes.

“She’s joking.” Maple dons a mirthful smile. “Spend it however you want to, honey. Rowan would tell you to save it.”

“I don’t want to do that either.” Laurel hums and stows the cash in her wallet.

I’ve been uncertain for the last week, but after spending the day with my sisters, I think we can do this. It won’t be easy. Maple stopped in after working another bread shift at the restaurant, and she’s exhausted. Rowan locks herself in her bedroom to hop on calls with her other clients—the real, paying clients. She’ll spend her evening working.

Other days won’t be like today. Laurel and I can run everything while our other sisters focus on their day jobs. Today showed me Laurel is ready for more responsibility. There were no customer complaints—in fact, she received rave reviews.

I’m proud of her, but none of us have the emotional capacity to say it out loud. The words catch in the back of my throat.

“Laur,” I say instead, “are you coming back with me tomorrow?”

“Sure. Do you think I can make another five hundred?”

“Probably not.” I snicker. “But if you work the register while I make potions, you’ll get your hourly pay.”

“Deal.”

A loud bang comes from the kitchen. I cringe.

“Everything all right in there?” Maple calls to the workers.

“All good!” someone calls back.

I shrug at my sisters. We have no experience; we’ll have to trust the professionals.

“I was thinking…” Maple says.

“Never a good sign,” I say.

Maple glares, but there’s no malice behind it. “I want to make baked goods for the shop.”

I lift my brows. “Really?”

She nods. “You know—charmed sweets for prosperity or to attract new love. Things like that.”

The sort of thing only a kitchen witch can make. Selling them at the shop is a sweet idea.

“Cold season is coming up.” I tap my lower lip. “Your health and wellness lemon bars would be perfect.”

“Are you sure you have time?” Laurel asks.

“I want to make the time,” Maple says. “I’ve been thinking about this for a few days. The apothecary matters to me, too. I know I can’t give up my kitchen job right now, but if I could… I would.”

I frown. It’s easy to forget that my other sisters may not be fulfilled in their careers. At least, Maple may not be. She wants to open a restaurant. That dream seems so far away, but I can give her this.

“It sounds like the perfect idea,” I say. “It would be an honor to sell your goods. I’ll even help you out⁠—”

She lifts a hand. “Please, no. Stay out of my kitchen.”

“What?” I let out a burst of laughter.

“I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you are the worst kitchen witch.”

I open my mouth to defend myself. Before I can, there’s a knock on the door.

“Might be more workers,” Laurel says. “I’ll get it.”

“It could be for me!” Maple calls after her. “I’m waiting for a package.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Between the four of us, the place is abuzz with deliveries. Maple has a terrible online shopping problem.

What I don’t expect is Laurel to come in with a wrapped gift and a big smile.

“It’s for you,” Laurel says.

No. Her smile is more than big. It’s larger than life and positively devious.

My stomach somersaults.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t know…” Laurel says. “Why don’t you open it?”

I don’t like the mischievous smile she’s wearing.

My stomach is still uneasy as I take the little package from Laurel. Sure enough, the nametag has my name printed. The writing is calligraphy in a golden script. The wrapping paper is thick craft paper topped with a red velvet bow. I love red velvet. The gift looks remarkable from the outside.

This can’t be for me… can it? It’s not even my birthday.

Who could it be from? Everyone I care about is in this room—save for Aspen, who never replied to my email. I suppose it would make sense that she would send a gift to congratulate me…

Something tells me it’s not from her.

Another name comes to mind. Ozan’s face pops up, and I push it away.

The flowers were one thing. This is another. Why would he…?

If I save it to open later, that will give Laurel more ammunition.

I tug at the pretty bow. It comes undone, and my heart plunges. My hands shake as I lift the lid, trying to keep my expression neutral.

There’s a card, with my name and writing, and a box of chocolates. They’re lovely chocolates, too. Caramel and hazelnut filled and⁠—

I love chocolate. Everyone knows I prefer chocolates over flowers or… anything. It’s my favorite treat. This is too good. It can’t be from that dreaded man.

“Those look so fancy!” Maple says from behind me.

“Mhm…” I open the envelope. A pressed rose falls from the stationary. My cheeks are scarlet like the pretty bow I discarded and as hot as the crackling fire.

Congratulations on your big opening day.

I knew you could do it.

—Oz.

“It’s from Oz.” I try to stop my voice from shaking as I fold the letter and slip it into the envelope. The words come out high-pitched. Why do I sound so nervous? Ozan is not allowed to fluster me. I clear my throat. “Ozan. I mean, it’s from Ozan.”

“I know.” Laurel snickers. “He brought it himself. I asked if he wanted to see you, but…”

“Did he say no?” I ask.

“He said you wouldn’t want to see him,” Laurel says.

“Well, he was right about that,” I say. “I’m not sure why he would give me this. Do you think they’re poisoned?”

All jokes, of course. I can’t see Ozan doing anything so sinister. It’s part of the reason he’s so frustrating. No one is this kind without a motive. It’s positively diabolical.

“I’ll check for poison.” Maple reaches for the chocolates.

“No!” I pull the box against my chest.

My sisters look at me, Maple with confusion and Laurel with a smug smile.

“I mean”—I swallow—"I’m going to give them back to him.”

Laurel groans. “You are not! No way.”

“I cannot accept this,” I say.

“Take the gift!” Maple exclaims. “You worked hard; you deserve some recognition.”

“We all worked hard. Why did he put my name on this?” I shouldn’t say the question out loud, but I do.

Laurel immediately chimes in. “Because he’s the man in the six of cups.”

Maple’s eyes widen. “What? Is this about the reading again?”

“No. It’s nothing!” I glare at Laurel. My next lesson with her will be about client confidentiality. “He won’t stop…giving me things.”

“That was a red rose,” Laurel says. “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t see it. You know what red means.”

“It means he knows nothing about flowers,” I say. “Red roses are the most generic flower.”

But he knows something—he has to. He’s a spell caster. Unless a witch casts spells with the cosmos or another energy source, they use items from the earth. Flowers, herbs, pinecones… that sort of thing.

Any witch with an ounce of training knows red roses symbolize love. He and I once debated the fact.

“You adore red roses,” Maple says. “Especially this shade of red. Not the orange-red ones.”

“And they’re the flower of love,” Laurel says. “Everyone knows that.”

I shake my head at them both.

I’m not stupid. I know what red flowers mean. Passion, romance—and sure, the thorns can be used for protective spells, but that’s not the energy I get from the rose.

I lift the dried flower. After everything, why would Ozan want to give me a symbol of attraction?

Goddess… he is so strange. I may never understand that man.

Chapter 9

Juniper

Our shop is quiet the next day. Too quiet. I pop a piece of chocolate into my mouth as I peer at the cauldron, waiting for the simmering potion to change colors.

Working with Laurel is a good plan—in theory. In practice, my youngest sister is a pain when she’s bored. I lose track of the pointless questions she’s asked, and the music blaring in the shop gives me a headache. This is what I get for telling her she can pick the playlist.

Her taste isn’t terrible, but I prefer The Cocteau Twins, and she likes Rainbow Kitten Surprise. If I have to listen to Devil Like Me one more time…

After hours of listening to the racket, I have to put a stop to it.

“Can you turn that down?”

I can barely hear my cooking show over the din. I may be terrible in the kitchen, but nothing relaxes me more than a baking show.

“What?” Laurel asks without lifting her head.

“Your music!”

She ignores me, and I tromp to the speakers, unplugging them from the wall.

“Hey!” She frowns at me.

Finally, I get her attention.

“I’m working over here,” I mutter as I stomp to my cauldron in the back of the shop.

Having lost her distraction, Laurel follows me. I drop three bay leaves into the cauldron and dip my wooden spoon back in.

“Whatcha making?” She stands a foot away.

Laurel knows better than to stick her face into my potions. She was only ten years old when she first singed off her eyebrows.

“A shapeshifting potion,” I say.

“For what reason?” Her eyes bulge out of her head. “There’s no way someone requested this.”

“You’re right,” I mutter. I must stir exactly twenty times—no more, no less. At this rate, Laurel is going to make me lose count. “This is for me.”

“What could you possibly need a shapeshifting potion for?”

I ignore her as I count. Ten… nine… eight.

Laurel crosses her arms. Her hip pops out as she waits.

When I’m at a stopping point, I lift my head. “I’m going undercover to check on his shop. I need to see what he’s doing right.”

It can’t be the prices. Our prices are the same. I can only think of his spell-casting services, but that can’t be it, either. My potions are as good. I’ll fight over that fact.

She squints. “You’re going to waste your lunch snooping on that guy?”

“No. I’m snooping on his shop. It’s different.”

“Uh-huh…”

I turn off the burner and ladle the potion into a cup. “Bottle up the rest of this while I’m gone. You never know when someone will request it.”

“Sure, sure.”

I swirl the bottled potion and waltz away, waiting for it to cool enough. The potion will work when it’s hot, but I’ve scalded my throat from impatience.

“Don’t be gone too long,” Laurel says. “I don’t know what to do if this place comes back to life!”

I offer her a soft smile. “You’ll do fine. Just take their orders and send them on their way.”

“What if they have questions?”

“Answer them. You’re a smart witch. I’m not worried.”

The only thing in the way of Laurel’s success is her confidence. The more time I spend with her, the more I trust her instincts as a witch.

“Right.” She nods. “I’ll just… answer them. That easy.”

It will be good for Laurel to have a bit of responsibility—and even though she’s acting like it’s an impossible hurdle, I believe in her.

The shop will be in one piece when I return.

I drink the potion and wait for it to come into effect. The changes are subtle—blonde hair, brown eyes, and a few facial changes. He won’t be able to recognize me, but it’s not enough of a transformation that the potion is painful.

Growing a few inches is another story—and yes, I’ve tested that potion. It’s not worth the height.

I wrinkle my nose as it shrinks and turns pointier. There’s a floor-length mirror in the shop for reasons like this. I look at my reflection. My mole is gone, my hair is platinum, and… I barely recognize myself.

It should fool Ozan without a problem.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” I tell Laurel.

Before she can question me further, I scramble out of the shop.

No one looks my way as I walk down the street, turning the corner to find Oz’s apothecary. Sure enough, it may not be as packed as ours was yesterday, but several people are inside.

My jaw clenches as I enter. I can’t meet his gaze looking like this—lucky for me, he doesn’t bother glancing in my direction.

What is he doing right? We should have advertised our opening better, extended the sale, or…

I don’t know. I busy myself looking at a stack of spell books and listening in on him with the other customer.

“I completed your spell last night,” he says. “Remember, I can’t guarantee results, but this should give you a leg up with the promotion.”

“Oh, bless you.” The customer is a stranger to me. She offers him a warm smile. “I’ll tell you how the talk with my boss goes.”

“Please do. I would love to hear about your results. Remember to leave a testimonial online.”

Gods. It sounds like he is doing online marketing. Will he leave any corner unturned?

The woman pauses, looking Ozan up and down. “You know, I have a niece about your age⁠—”

I snort. I can see where this is going.

Finally, he glances in my direction.

I freeze, expecting him to say something or recognize me. It doesn’t happen, and a moment later, his attention moves back to the customer.

“I’m going to stop you there.” Ozan chuckles. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m not looking.”

He’s not looking. Why the hell is he sending me red roses?

The rest of the interaction is short and generic, but he may beat us in customer service. Ozan is charming to everyone except me.

“Can I help you?”

He finally speaks to me, and I nearly drop the book I’m holding.

“Um…um…”

I don’t see the book's title until it falls to the floor.

Sex Magic: Use Your Pleasure To…

Oh, my god.

His expression is perfectly calm and polite. He doesn’t meet my gaze with judgment, shock, or that smirk he sometimes wears. Because he thinks I’m someone else—thank the goddess.

He bends over to pick up the book and holds it out.

“No,” I say, carefully pitching my voice higher. I take the book. “I’m just browsing.” With shaking hands, I slip it back on the shelf.

“Are you sure? That’s a fun read. Very informative.”

“Oh?” I blink. “Do you use… that?”

My mind drifts. I’ve never explored sex magic, and it sounds like Ozan has. A picture enters my mind without permission. His hand on his⁠—

I shake my head, pushing it away.

“Occasionally.” He shrugs. “It’s not my preferred way to charge a spell, but sometimes it works best.”

I can’t believe I’m having this talk with him…

And I can’t believe how good he is at his job. He’s sold me on this book within minutes.

There’s a reason I specialize in potions. They don’t require me to summon energy. The ingredients do the work for me. It’s analytical, precise, and careful. I follow my rules, read my books, and⁠—

It’s the opposite of sex magic, which is purely energetic. It’s intention.

I shake my head, letting out a flustered laugh. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

OZAN

I know it’s Juniper the moment she enters the shop. She carries herself differently than other people. Her posture is straight, and her hips sway. While her hair is a different color, I know the exact spot it hits in the middle of her back.

Her coming in disguise is weird enough, but it’s in character. Juniper is a strange woman. Holding a book about sex magic in broad daylight has to be the most surprising thing she’s done yet.

“Do you need help with anything else?” I ask.

I don’t want to move on from the book, but she wants to. It’s for the best that we do. My mind could wander if I let it—to touching her, to sparks flying between us.

“Not—not with that!”

I lift a brow and fight off a smile. “With what?”

She shakes her head.

I can’t believe Juniper Hawthorne is flustered by me—or anyone. I’ve never seen her so bashful in all my years of knowing her. Her cheeks are as red as a rose, and her fingers twitch at her sides.

“Not with a book.” She exhales slowly. “Can you tell me about your potions?”

“I sure can. Right this way.” I lead her to the other side of the shop. “What are you looking for? A shapeshifting potion?”

Her footsteps stop. “What?”

“We’re having a special on them,” I say. “But I have anything you could want. Good luck, attraction, money drawing, something that stops your hair from going gray.” I touch the front of my hair, where I have several gray streaks.

“I hope you’re not planning on using that.”

“What?” I blink.

“The potion… on your gray hairs. They make you look distinguished.”

And shapeshifting makes Juniper bold.

I tilt my head to the side. “You think so?”

“I do.” She clears her throat. “Tell me about the good luck potion. Do you brew them in-house?”

“I don’t. I only put the finest potions and products on these shelves, which means outsourcing when necessary. They’re made by a talented witch in Augusta. I can give you her card if you want to look into her before buying.”

“That would be helpful…” She trails off.

Juniper is a talented potion maker herself. She has no reason to contact the other witch—and it’s one leg up she has on our little one-sided competition.

“I’ll find her card.” I turn away and wander behind the counter, ruffling around.

To my surprise, she stays close, standing at the counter as I look.

“If you can’t find it,” she says, “it’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m going to find it.”

I lift a folder and open it, rifling around the papers and cards. I have information for those who grow my herbs, make my candles, and…

Ah. There it is.

I turn to Juniper with the card between my fingers. “You can contact her over email or phone—whatever is best.”

“Great.” She snatches the card from me and looks away as she slips it into her wallet. “Thank you.”

“You know,” I say, “not that you asked my opinion, but you look better with dark hair.”

It’s not the sort of thing I would usually tell someone. Considering she’s trying to trick me, I’ll make an exception.

She freezes. The look on her face is worth it. Blood rushes to her cheeks, and she swallows thickly.

“I don’t know what you⁠—”

“You do.”

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Her voice drops to the usual low, sensual timbre. Her eyes lift to meet mine.

I cock my head to the side, waiting for her to give up the act.

Even in disguise, Juniper is stubborn. Her hands move to her hips, and she meets me with a set jaw.

“Juniper,” I say. “I know it’s you.”

“How?” Her voice raises, and the flush moves from her face to her chest. One thing she can’t hide is her tendency to blush. I love the way the warmth spreads over her skin.

“Because you are ridiculously obvious,” I say.

“I was being so nice!”

“But you weren’t acting like a normal customer. You were way too flustered about that book.”

“I wasn’t⁠—”

Admitting I knew it was her before even seeing the book is not an option—and not something I can put into words. I barely know her. We weren’t even close in our younger years, but…

Her mannerisms are ingrained in my mind. I know how she puts her hands on her plush hips and how she squints whenever she looks at me. More than anything, her adorable, round, pink cheeks give her away.

“You were flustered,” I say. “I would have thought you hadn’t heard of sex magic before, with how nervous you were.”

“I’m done with this conversation.”

“That’s fine. You started it. I guess you can end it.”

“You are so immature!” She groans. “You’re still the same person you were when we were young. This is why I can’t stand you.”

“Then why do you keep coming back?” I lift a brow.

It’s not my intention, but the words silence her. Her lips part, and she blinks, her chest heaving as moments pass.

“I’m trying to figure out what you’re doing right,” she says.

“And? What is it?”

“I don’t know. It looks like dumb luck to me.”

“You’re right. Keep coming around; some of my luck might rub off on you.”

I haven’t felt lucky in a long time. Before I came to Starbrook, my life took a turn toward misfortune. I don’t know if that’s still the case, but I no longer care about living a fabulous, lucky life.

I want to find little pockets of happiness. That’s what my life is now.

Seeing Juniper throw her hands in the air and turn away doesn’t make me happy, but it gives me a chuckle.

“I’m not coming back!” she yells.

Heads turn in her direction.

“Aw, why not? I’ll miss you!”

The chimes on the door jingle as she takes her leave.

I don’t know why or how, but this is closer to happiness. I’m smiling long after she’s gone.

Chapter 10

Ozan

The town is small enough that, of course, I’ll run into her. It’s inevitable. She doesn’t visit my shop for a few days, but we can’t avoid each other for long.

There’s one grocery store in Starbrook. The Greenes, a family of witches, own it. They’re good people.

It’s nice to be back to what I know. When I was young, I scraped up all my coins to buy candy bars here. Mr. Greene never made me feel bad for paying in dimes. Things have changed now. I walk through the aisles on a mission and with a list. No more candy hauls.

Beans. Carrots. Potatoes. It’s the perfect time of year to make a nice stew.

The aisles are small, and it doesn’t boast the same selection the bigger markets did in Boston. Everything here is fresh, in season, and more expensive than I’m used to. It’s worth it. I’m always going to support small businesses in town. That’s especially true now that I’m one of them.

I spot Juniper standing in the middle of the cereal aisle. Her hair is in a loose bun, and she’s dressed differently than I’m used to—in dark yoga pants and a crop top.

My cart comes to a halt. I should keep avoiding her. Juniper kept her final promise. She hasn’t come to the shop in five days.

Why am I counting?

I push my cart and look straight ahead.

“Nice to see you’re back to normal.” I can’t resist saying something as I pass by.

Even though my words are calm and quiet, she jumps out of her skin.

“Gods!” she yelps. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“I’m not trying to scare you!” My lips twitch, even though she’s glaring.

“I thought I finally got rid of you.”

“Too bad. You didn’t.”

“That really is too bad.”

I bite at the inside of my cheek. I can’t linger for much longer. This is already the length of a conversation between casual acquaintances. She and I aren’t even that.

We’re in a neutral space now, and she doesn’t treat me with as much hostility. Sure, she isn’t inviting me to linger, but she isn’t telling me to fuck off either. It’s a start.

I grab a box of oatmeal and drop it in my cart.

“I’ll leave you to it.” I push forward.

“Wait.”

I almost don’t hear her. The word is so soft I wonder if she means to say it. I turn to her with crossed arms.

She looks different now, and it’s more than her toned-down appearance. I don’t realize until it’s too late. The stubborn way she holds herself has turned into something frail and soft. When she looks at me, her expression is vulnerable.

“What’s going on?” My voice softens, and my expression melts, too.

She stares at a box of fruity cereal. “What do you do when you feel like a failure?”

I frown. “You’re not a failure. Who’s making you feel like that?”

I hope it’s not me. She and I haven’t been getting along, but I don’t want to do anything to make her, or anyone else, feel like that.

“It’s not a who,” she says. “It’s a what. The shop isn’t what it’s supposed to be. It’s not what my mom wanted it to be, and...” She trails off, letting out a soft sigh.

“Don’t stop there.” I abandon my cart to move to her. “You can talk to me. I get it.”

“You don’t. Your business is⁠—”

“An anomaly. I was struggling in Boston.”

“You were?” She lifts her gaze and sniffles.

Her nose is red. Has she been crying?

“It was a disaster,” I say. “My boss was terrible, and I was stuck working for a company I didn’t care about.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Is it bad if that makes me feel better?”

“Nah. That’s human nature.” I uncross my arms. “Have you ever run a business before?”

“Are you going to tell me I’m unqualified?”

“No.” I smile softly. “Just that you have a lot to learn. We all do. You’re doing fine, all right? Stop beating yourself up.”

“I’ll try.” She smiles. It’s a rare sight, at least for me, but it doesn’t bring me joy. It’s a sad, halfhearted smile. “What am I doing wrong? Can you tell me?”

“No,” I say, “but I can give you advice if you really want it.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I need it.”

Some would tell me not to advise the only competition in town, but I don’t care. I’ll do anything to make her smile a genuine smile.

“Your business is going through changes,” I say. “It’s going to be hard.”

“That’s it? That’s your advice?”

“That’s the biggest thing.”

“Is it the prices?”

“No. It’s going to be an adjustment period at first, but the prices are good. Pricing yourself too low makes it seem like your products aren’t quality.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well… they’re going to compare you to your mom—your mom’s prices and how she ran the shop. Hell, they’re going to compare your personalities.”

“Which couldn’t be more different.”

“Exactly. It will feel impossible to measure up at first. She had been running the shop for thirty years. Everyone in town knew and trusted her. They’re still getting to know you as a business owner and a witch, not as little Juni from down the street.”

“Then they’ll always see me like a kid? Is there nothing I can do to make them take me seriously?”

“I didn’t say that. You need to find a way to make it your own. Just because you’re doing it for her doesn’t mean you have to do it like her. That’s where you went wrong.”

Her shoulders drop, and her eyes turn misty. All of her unbelievable pride leaves her body. I nearly flinch at the sight of her falling apart right in front of me.

“I messed up,” she mutters.

“You didn’t.” I take a chance, tentatively squeezing her shoulder.

To my surprise, she doesn’t push me away. I still can’t believe she’s opening up to me like this. It shows how down in the dumps she is.

“There’s still time to make it your own,” I say. “Businesses aren’t built in a day.”

“I thought that was Rome.”

“Exactly. Your business is Rome.”

She sighs and rolls her shoulders. I let my hand drop away.

“You’re bad at this.” She gives me another small, sad smile. “But thank you.”

JUNIPER

My sisters are sitting in our kitchen when I carry my groceries inside. I can’t look at them. It’s been a long, hard week. I open the fridge and carefully set the egg carton down.

“I made cottage pie,” Maple says in her usual sunny voice.

For once, I’m not in the mood for her to cheer me up.

“Okay.” I hide my face behind the fridge door.

“It’s delicious,” Rowan says. I can feel her sharp gaze on my back.

“I’ll get some in a bit,” I say. “Thanks.”

I stand upright, closing the fridge and moving to the cupboard.

Passing up free food isn’t an option right now. Maple has an actual job. She’s not running the unprofitable family business. I was doing better with tips at the bar than I am now. At this rate, it will take years to get our business out of the red.

It isn’t helping me in any other way. I don’t feel more connected to my mother, and my mental health is taking a nosedive, too.

Today, I want to quit.

I hope the feeling passes in the morning, but I’ve never been more unsure about my path.

My conversation with Ozan is fresh in my mind, and it’s upsetting—but it was different than speaking with him typically is. He usually grates on my nerves for reasons I can’t describe. This is different.

When I look at him, I’m nothing in comparison. He’s the business owner I want to be. He’s in the place in life that I want to be. I can’t even be mad at him for what he said in the store. He was right. The shop doesn’t feel like mine.

I am a child trying on her mother’s clothes.

There’s a chance I’m letting Ozan’s advice get to me, which may be his intention. It would be a smart way to sabotage me. I don’t know. I can’t pretend to have the answers anymore. Nothing makes sense.

Without saying another word to my sisters, I serve myself a plate of food.

“How was the shop today?” Maple asks.

“Fine.” I clench my jaw.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to stop in,” Maple says. “I was tired after work.”

“It’s fine.”

Running upstairs to eat alone sounds tempting. Instead, I sit with them at the little, cluttered table. It’s more jumbled than ever, considering how busy we are. Laurel has a stack of records and music zines on the table now. That’s new. I guess she found something to spend her extra income on.

“It doesn’t sound like it was fine.” Rowan lifts a brow. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “That’s the problem. I thought we could come back with a bang…”

“And we did!” Maple says.

“But it didn’t last,” I say. “And I know why.”

“Do tell,” Rowan says.

“It doesn’t…” I hate that I’m going to quote Ozan. He really is getting to me. “It doesn’t feel like us. It’s still mom’s shop, and we’re just… parading around as her.”

Rowan frowns. “I don’t think that’s what we’re trying to do. We’re continuing her legacy. That’s what being a family is.”

“That’s not how other people see it,” I say. “Everyone is comparing us to her.”

“Is it so terrible if they do?” Maple asks. “It is her shop. I don’t want to get rid of the her-ness in it.”

“I don’t either,” I say.

Now that the question is out there, we go silent.

I don’t know about my sisters, but I spend our silent dinner questioning everything about our business.

It’s more than the business. I couldn’t say it to Ozan or my sisters, but it is. I’ve always known I’m not as good as my mother. She was a better witch, a better parent, and a better person. She’s not here, and I’m supposed to step up and be like her, but…

I can’t. I’m still not at that point in my life, and I may never be. There are days when I can accept it, but my expectations are crushing me this week.

Chapter 11

Juniper

As much as I want to hide from the world, I must return to the shop. None of my sisters have answers or ideas. I know the problem now, but that only makes it more frustrating.

At least the shop isn’t completely dead today. It’s almost time to close, and a longtime patron, Emily, is ambling around.

“You make these potions yourself?” she asks.

“I do.”

“And your mom taught you that?”

“Of course.” My throat tightens, but I force on a smile. “She taught me everything I know.”

“She was a good witch.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Do you have anything to help with my cat’s appetite?”

“Your cat…” I blink. “Have you tried a vet?”

She grunts. “They said there was nothing wrong with her.”

I hum, looking over the potions in the case. “I can make you a custom potion. How are her energy levels?”

“Not the best.”

“Addressing that may help with the appetite.” I fix her with a stern look. “Make sure you keep taking her to the vet. Mundane comes before magic.”

She chuckles. “Can’t believe little Juni is lecturing me about magical practices…”

Internally, I wince. This is precisely what Ozan was talking about. People in town don’t take me seriously. At best, they compare me to my mom. At worst… they infantilize me.

“You’d better believe it.” My smile strains. “Would you like the custom potion? It will take a few days.”

Her nails tap against the table. “I’ll take it!”

Things are looking up. The business isn’t a complete failure.

It’s still not enough. That’s the problem. Something is missing. The others don’t feel it, but I do. There’s a hole in my chest, and I don’t know how to fill it.

Is there something wrong with the business, or is it me?

The shop isn’t making me happy, but I can’t stop trying. All I do is try. I stay an hour after closing to work on the commissioned potion.

By the time I brave the autumn chill, I’m weary. My jacket will keep me warm, but I still shudder as I stroll down the dark, empty streets. Walking to work seemed like a good idea in the bright morning light, but now I yearn for bed.

There are only a few things that could make my walk worse, and thing number one is right in front of me.

Ozan. He probably isn’t aware of my presence. I’m too aware of his. He’s everywhere.

It would be easy to stay behind him, even if it becomes evident we’re heading in the same direction. He has long legs, doesn’t he? That means he should move faster. He doesn’t, though, and I’m caught up with him before I know what’s happening.

Ozan looks too pleased as I approach.

“Evening.” His dimples show under the scruff of his beard. He looks at me from the corner of his eye.

“Do you usually walk home?” I ask, skipping the pleasantries. “I never see you out here.”

“No.” He yawns. “I live above the shop. No walking necessary.”

“Must be nice.” I hesitate. “Where are you going?”

The last thing I want is to seem too interested in his whereabouts, but I am. There’s a chance he’s walking for his health, but at this time of night, I doubt it.

“My parent’s place,” he says.

That makes sense. They live just down the street from our family home. Sadly, that means I’ll have to spend the entire walk with him.

“I guess we can walk together…”

“You don’t sound enthused.” He snickers.

“I’m not, but…” I look up at the moon, shrugging. “It’s a full moon. That makes it a good night to stay in groups.”

Humans have a myth that the full moon brings chaos, but it’s more than a myth—it’s true. The energy of the full moon is bright and chaotic. Any witch can feel it.

Under the right circumstances, it can make for favorable ceremonies, but it can also reveal our world’s evil underbelly. I shouldn’t be walking alone.

“I’m glad you’re finally seeing sense,” he says.

I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”

“This is the first time you’re not running away from me.”

“You sound too pleased about it.”

“I am.”

His honesty catches me off guard. I look ahead. Heat rises to my cheeks, and—for some reason—I’m fighting off a smile.

“If you wanted my attention so badly, you should have said so,” I say. “I do charity work from time to time.”

“Wow.” he chuckles. “Didn’t know you were so generous.”

Having someone to walk with doesn’t fix any of my problems, but I feel better with Ozan under the full moon’s light.

I can’t put my finger on why.

“Where have you been, anyway?” I ask.

“What?” He lets out a puff of laughter. “Have you been waiting for me to visit?”

“No!” I glare at him. “Before coming back to Starbrook, I mean. I know you were in Boston, but…?”

“It sounds like you have the answer to your question. I was indeed in Boston.”

“You’re not mysterious, Ozan. Stop trying to be. You know what I’m asking. What were you doing in Boston?”

The last I heard, he was there with someone, but I haven’t seen any sign of him having a partner. His walking alone adds to the piling evidence that he’s single.

“I was working at Knox Media…”

There’s hesitation. Why?

“I’ve heard of the company. And…?” I press.

“And living with my wife.”

I stop in my tracks. I knew he had a girlfriend, but a wife? When did that happen? Where is she now? He talks about her like they’re still together. My heart clenches.

“And my familiars, of course,” he says, not stopping. “The bun—you saw her—and I have a cat too. I don’t know if you’ve met him, but you should. He’s delightfully mischievous.”

I tug at his sleeve, forcing him to stop. “Don’t distract me with cute animals! Where is your wife? She can’t be hiding in your little apartment.”

Why do I feel weird asking about her?

“Well…” His lips twist. “She’s not exactly my wife anymore.”

My hand drops. “Oh.”

He juts his chin forward, taking a step away. “C’mon. Don’t be weird about it.”

For some reason, I listen to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He waves a hand. “It’s fine. It was a year ago.”

“A year isn’t that long,” I say. “A year ago, I was… still working at a bar.”

He lifts a brow.” “Oh yeah? Did you like it?”

“Kind of. I wanted to be a bartender. I like the mixology part of the job. There are a lot of unique drinks you can make, you know. It’s almost like mixing a potion.”

“Why didn’t you pursue it? You would have been good.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I have a feeling.”

“I don’t know what happened,” I say. “I never stayed in one place long enough to learn or move up. Eventually, I forgot about it. This is my first time thinking about it in a while.”

I’ve spent so much time stopping myself from doing anything. Being a bartender feels like a small goal to some, and that’s what stopped me. It never felt like enough.

Ozan opened up to me about his wife. I’m trying to open up, but I can’t admit that last part out loud. He wouldn’t understand.

For a few moments, all I hear is the crunch of our footsteps.

“It’s not too late,” he says.

“It is. I’m running the shop now.”

“And that makes you happy?”

“I don’t know.” I let out a long, slow sigh. “The last time I was happy was before my mom died. I can’t expect anything to make me happy—not even her shop and...” I stop myself, glaring at him. “Why am I talking to you about this?”

He lets out a carefree laugh. “I honestly don’t know.”

“This is the second time!”

“It is. Don’t get me wrong; I’m honored…but as confused as you are.”

“It was the divorce talk,” I say. “It makes you more relatable.”

“Yikes.”

“Sorry.”

“It is what it is.” He shrugs. “If you tried harder, you would have found me relatable before.”

“Oh yeah? Did you want to be a bartender too?”

“No,” he says, “but I struggled to find something that makes me happy.”

“Is that why…”

I stop myself. I can’t ask why he left his wife or even assume he was the one to leave her.

He shakes his head and offers no more. If I ask for more information, I’ll become one of the gossips in Starbrook.

“Does your shop make you happy?” I ask instead.

It’s a concept I can’t wrap my head around. Maple’s work makes her happy, even if it’s stressful and draining. Rowan enjoys what she does, and she’s good at it. Laurel is finding joy in her tarot readings.

When will I find something like that?

“So far?” he shrugs. “It does. I’ve worked in business for almost a decade, but never for something I built from the ground up. It’s different.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m missing.” I smile wryly.

“Maybe. But there’s still time to make it your own—like we discussed last time.”

“I can’t obliterate everything she built. I won’t give up on it yet.”

“You don’t have to give up on it. Just add a little you in it. Your mom loved you; she would love for you to make your mark on the old place.”

We stop in front of my home. Our eyes meet, and my heart races, as if wishing to run from the conversation.

“Ozan…” I swallow thickly. “I never know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s fine.” He chuckles. “I don’t know either.”

I lift a shoulder and turn away. “Get home safe. Watch out for wolves.”

“You too.”

When I reach the front door, a turn of my head tells me he’s still standing there. In the moonlight, Ozan doesn’t look so bad. A flickering streetlight shines onto his face.

He lifts a hand. I lift one back. He leaves.

It’s nothing—but it’s more than I’ve done in months. He’s the first person I talked to my mother about. Maybe that’s why my heart aches when I watch him leave.

OZAN

I was looking forward to dinner with my parents—until I ran into Juniper. It’s not her fault, but bringing Vanessa up is a surefire way to kill my mood.

Someday, I will be able to talk about her without my energy taking a nosedive. Today is not that day.

My family's home is a time capsule. Pictures of me with braces and in sports gear still hang in the hallways, and my mother hasn’t redecorated since the 90s. The floor is still a godsawful blue tile.

But it’s home.

I inhale deeply as I follow my mother into the kitchen. “Did you make bread?”

“I did—and an extra loaf for you to take home.”

“Perfect. I bought a loaf from Greene’s the other day, but⁠—”

“Oh, you can stick that one in the freezer. Take it out again when you need more bread. You can never have enough bread.”

I spent years living on my own, but my mother still treats me like I just moved out. Not that I’m complaining. Some people don’t have the nurturing my ma tries to offer me.

“I’ll be sure to do that,” I say.

She shuffles to the kitchen, where my father is already waiting.

“I hope I’m not late.” I settle into my usual seat.

Our kitchen table is the same round table that’s been here since I was a kid. It wobbles slightly, but not enough for my father to fix it.

If they let me, I’ll do the job before I leave for the night.

“You’re right on time.” She scoops a heaping spoon of mashed potatoes onto my plate.

“You’re late by my measure,” my dad grumbles. I know it’s playful. “I’ve been waiting to eat.”

“You’ve been waiting five minutes!” my mother says. “And you’ll be grateful for it later. You were going to burn your mouth, mark my words.”

Soon, my plate is full of breaded chicken, steamed vegetables, and more potatoes than any man can eat alone. I’ll do my best to gobble it all up. It makes my mom happy when I do.

“How’s the shop?” my dad asks. “There’s a huge crowd every time I pass by.”

“That means it’s going well,” my mom says.

“It is,” I say. “I never thought I would be this successful, but…”

“We told you!” My mother beams. “You can thank me for the million-dollar business idea.”

“Okay, I don’t know about a million dollars…” I chuckle.

“People need their stuff,” my dad says.

“Right.” I hesitate, cutting off a piece of chicken. “Did you know Mrs. Hawthorne passed? That’s why the old apothecary shut down.”

My parents exchange a look.

“You know,” my mother says, “I heard about that.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me before I opened the apothecary?” I frown. “That would have been helpful.”

“It slipped my mind,” she says. “You know how it is. Something is big news one day, and something else comes along the next.”

Someone dying isn’t gossip. It isn’t something anyone should forget about when the next ‘thing’ comes along. I grind my teeth.

I let the conversation drop, popping the rosemary chicken into my mouth.

“Everyone is asking about Vanessa,” my dad says.

I freeze. “What?”

My mother cuts my father a withering look.

“For the holidays,” he says. “They want to know if they should bring gifts for her. What should I tell them?”

I shake my head. “You should tell them she’s not coming. We’re divorced. They’re going to find out, eventually.”

“Right, right…” my father mumbles. “I wasn’t sure if you got it figured out.”

“It’s not something we can figure out,” I say. “Our marriage is over. It’s legally binding—or legally unbound, I guess. That’s as official as it gets.”

“We know, honey!” my mother says warmly. “We want you to be happy. All the questions at the solstice celebration…we don’t want them to get to you.”

“I’ll answer them,” I say. “I’m a big boy.”

“Are you sure?” She looks down at her plate. “We can tell them not to bother you with it. Or you can take Vanessa—just for this year.”

“Ma!” I laugh. “No way. That’s not happening. Don’t do that. I’m fine with it, all right? I’m happy.”

But I don’t know how fine it will be when I’m there. Talking about her here—with my parents, with Juniper—it’s already pushing me into the dumps. How will it feel when my nosy aunts are pressing for details?

In the end, I can’t finish the mountain of potatoes on my plate.

Chapter 12

Juniper

Something is going wrong at Hawthorne Apothecary.

I don’t mean the usual dilemmas. This is more than the ghosts haunting the basement and far more than an empty shop.

The day is actually going well. I’ve had a few customers pop in, and even though some didn’t buy anything, they’re still coming. I’ll take it.

One customer is even a fresh face, which means Laurel’s marketing efforts are working.

No, the business isn’t the problem today. We’re entering the dead of fall, and I’m freezing to death. Every customer who comes in comments on how cold it is, too.

I shuffle to the thermostat. Seventy-one degrees. It should be seventy-one degrees. Why is it so chilly in here?

With frigid fingers, I fiddle with the thermostat. I have no experience with heating and air conditioning, but it doesn’t take an expert to realize our heat stopped working—on the coldest day of the year. At least it’s not the middle of winter.

The cold makes it hard to work and even harder to want to stay in the shop. There’s a more significant predicament. My potions require a specific environment—and 55 degrees in a poorly insulated shop is not that.

My initial instinct is to text the bad witches group chat—named that by Laurel, naturally.

Juniper

Bad news (as per usual)

The heating is busted.

Does anyone know what happened?

Rowan

It’s old.

Juniper

Obviously.

What should I do?

Rowan

Call a repair person.

Juniper

Lol thanks.

Can we afford it?

Rowan

Nope.

Laurel

DON’T WORRY! Laurel to the rescue.

I know a guy!

I’ll send someone your way. Xx

I shouldn’t trust Laurel with something like this, and I don’t. I spend half an hour scouring witchlist for someone who will do the work for free or a favor.

No bites, at least not from anyone who will know what to do. A few creeps contact me, but I swiftly block them.

At last, heavy footsteps enter the shop. I should have had more faith in my sister.

I lift my head, offering the patron a warm smile. “Sorry about⁠—”

Ozan stands in the doorway with a tool belt and toolbox. He wears a brown work jacket, and his hair is in disarray. I let my gaze linger longer than I should, wandering over the pink hue lighting up his face.

“—the cold.” I gulp.

OZAN

I haven’t seen the Hawthorne sisters around my shop—minus Juniper in disguise—since they opened their apothecary. Some popped in beforehand. Maple was kind enough to buy some herbs, and we had a lovely conversation about her rosemary bread.

The youngest sister, Laurel, is the last person I expect to come in. My greeting is more of a grimace than a smile. I can’t help but worry she’s here to flirt with me again.

The worry disappears when I see the dazed, urgent look she wears.

“There’s an emergency,” she says.

“What is it?” I quickly come out from behind the counter. My lips tug into a frown. “Did something happen to Juniper?”

She nods vigorously.

“What happened?” I ask urgently.

A smile plays on Laurel’s lips—the first sign it may not be all that serious. My shoulders drop.

“The heating at the shop broke.” Her frazzled nature fades. “She asked for your help.”

Whatever she’s planning, it seems more suspicious as the moments pass. Juniper and I have been talking more lately, and I would even say we’ve been civil… but I doubt she wants my help with this—or with anything.

“Juniper wants my help?” I scoff. “I doubt that.”

I can’t imagine Juniper asking for anyone’s help, much less mine.

“You need to hurry!” she says. “She’s freezing. The longer you wait, the angrier she’ll be.”

Juniper definitely doesn’t want my help. So, why is it that when Laurel talks about her freezing, I fight the urge to run to her rescue? I’m unqualified for the position. I’m no repairman, but minor fixes around my apothecary gave me some practice.

“Isn’t she always angry?” I smile wryly.

Her eyes widen. “You’re wasting time asking questions?”

I have more questions than the ones I’m asking—mainly, what kind of heating do they have? Is it oil, or electric, or…

Maybe Laurel isn’t the best person to ask.

“Are you sure she asked for me?” My eyes narrow.

I try to be a trusting guy, but the innocent way Laurel looks at me says she’s plotting something.

“I’m positive. She wants to see you. She needs you.”

Even though I can’t trust her—she may be working some kind of younger sister magic I’m not privy to—my stomach flips.

Juniper needs me?

It doesn’t take much to convince me to close the shop down, grab my toolbox, and run to the Hawthorne Apothecary.

Juniper looks at me with wide eyes, and within seconds, I realize she is not expecting me to show up. It seems she doesn’t need me after all.

I set my toolbox on the floor.

“Laurel told me to come,” I say.

“I figured.”

The room is chilly. It’s not terrible, but I know it won’t benefit her potions.

“Didn’t want to wait around for a repairperson?” I guess.

“Exactly.” She comes out with crossed arms, looking me up and down. “Can you help me or not?”

“I can try. Do you have any idea what’s wrong with it?”

“Nope.”

“No weird noises? Was it working when you arrived?”

“I don’t...” She looks up at the ceiling. “…think so. It was cold when I came. I tried to turn the heating up, but that didn’t help.”

“And is it gas or electric?”

“Electric.” She looks thoughtful for a moment and nods. “Definitely electric.”

“Then I guess it can’t be the obvious…”

“What would the obvious be?”

“That you ran out of gas without realizing.”

Her jaw drops. “You think I’m stupid?”

“I didn’t say that. You did.”

Juniper is the most intelligent person I know—she always has been. When I ran for class president, she was the only one who could potentially get in my way.

I won, of course—and that’s why she looks at me like dirt on her shoe. She still impressed me in the debates. I never wanted to go up against her again, and I didn’t. That doesn’t stop her from going up against me at every opportunity.

I smile, pretending she doesn’t look like she hopes I’ll disappear into a pile of dust.

Her nose and cheeks are pink from the cold—and it’s not even that cold in here. She shoves her hands into her jacket pockets and looks away, the frown still firmly on her lips. I want to help her. How could anyone see her like this and not want to help out?

“Can you help me or not?” she asks.

“I’m trying.” I take a few steps into the building, peering at the walls. “Can I see the thermostat?”

“It’s this way.”

We meander through the empty shop. The wooden floorboards creak under my heavy gait. She leads me to the back room, and I follow, letting the divider curtain slide over my face.

The thermostat is straight out of the 90s. It’s still on a wheel, unlike the one I had installed in my shop.

“Why is this thing set to seventy-seven?” I turn to her with wide eyes. “Do you seriously run it that high?”

“No!” she snaps. “I was trying to see if turning it up would fix it.”

I shake my head. “That’s not how it works…”

“Fine. I’m turning it down to sixty-nine.”

“Well… other than that, there’s nothing wrong here,” I say. “I’ll check the breaker and heater next. I’m guessing they’re in the basement.”

She points at the door. “It’s down there, but…”

I lift a brow, smirking. “What? You’re still afraid?”

She always hated the basement. When we were younger, I taunted her with it.

“Maybe!” she hisses. “It’s haunted. I swear by it.”

“You’re a witch. You can’t be afraid of ghosts.”

But she is. And I guess I would be, too, if I recently lost my mom.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” I say. “I need someone to hold the flashlight in case I have to get my hands dirty.”

Her gaze drifts down to my hands, and I swear, her cheeks blaze.

“Fine.” She turns her back on me.

I grab my toolbox, and we descend the creaky staircase. The only light is a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. I can see why she’s not a fan of the space. It’s dank, dusty, musty, and otherwise empty.

They don’t even use it to hold supplies.

“Look at all this wasted space,” I say. “All because you’re afraid of ghosts.”

“Hush.”

“Tell me something...” I move behind the bulky heater and check the plug, tugging it. It’s secure enough. I unplug it all the way.

Sometimes, turning something on and off is the best plan.

“No,” she says. “I’ll tell you nothing.”

“If this place is haunted,” I continue, “why is it only in the basement? Ghosts aren’t confined to a single room.”

She exhales, blowing her bangs up. “It’s not haunted, all right? I know that.”

“Just checking.” I plug the heater back in and wait for it to rush to life, but…

Nothing.

I straighten up. “Circuit breaker?”

“Right there.” She points at the metal box on the wall.

I fling the thing open and peer at the circuits. A puff of laughter escapes my lips.

“There it is,” I say.

“What?” She groans. “Really?”

“You have a blown fuse. Give me some time down here, and I can fix it.”

“You don’t need me to stay?” She hesitates. “I can hold the flashlight.”

“No, no.” I open my toolbox, rummaging around. “I have this under control. It’s similar to the one at my shop.”

“All right…” She’s already creeping upstairs. “If you insist.”

“I do.” I chuckle under my breath. “Get out of here.”

This day could be going worse. I manage to fix the heater—which means I don’t have to be the one to tell Juniper she has to shell out for a new system. Thank the gods.

The tension in my shoulders releases when the furnace comes to life. If everything goes according to plan, it’s already blowing warm air for Juniper and her customers.

When I go upstairs, I find a smiling Juniper. It’s an actual smile—no bitterness—just wide eyes and her plush, pink cheeks.

“You did it?” she asks.

“Yup. Two of them were blown, and I fixed them both. It was easy.”

She shakes her head, looking away from me. “I could have done it myself…”

“Could you? You wouldn’t even go in the basement.”

When she’s looking at me again, it’s with a glare. That perfect smile is gone, but she looks just as adorable. “I can! I choose not to.”

“It’s okay to ask for help.”

The words sound obvious to me, but they cause a thick silence to settle between us. Her eyes soften. The moment passes too quickly, and her expression goes hard again.

“How can I repay you?” she asks.

We stand in the middle of the empty shop. The light outside fades as the sunset captures Starbrook in its golden glow. A rainbow light shines onto her fair skin, and I smile, stepping closer to her.

“You can’t,” I say. “I don’t want your money. It’s no good here.”

“There has to be another way. Come on.”

“It’s nothing. I got the job done in under half an hour.”

“I guess…” Her hands hang loosely at her sides. “I don’t understand why you’re helping me. I’ve been horrible to you.”

“Horrible is an exaggeration.”

“Is it?”

“It is—and I don’t understand why a little neighborly help confuses you. I guess we don’t understand each other.”

“I’ve always known that.”

The heater is on, but the building is old and drafty. It will take time to warm up. Juniper’s cheeks are still pink, matching the rose color of her lips, and I can’t look away. She doesn’t know how to accept help—that’s obvious—but I’m fighting the urge to offer her more.

What I want to give her is something she may reject.

I rub my hands together, muttering a spell under my breath. My hands grow warm, and I take hers in mine.

This may end badly. She might pull away—or slap me. I wouldn’t put it past her. I may even deserve it, considering I forgot to give a warning. The sting never comes.

“You’re warm!” she gasps.

“It’s magic.” I chuckle. “You’re not telling me you don’t know about magic, are you?”

“No.” Juniper glares, but it doesn’t have the usual effect when she’s fighting off a smile. “It’s a simple spell. I know all about it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m terrible at spells,” she says. “Big, small, and everything in between… they take a lot out of me.”

“Oh?”

I’ve never heard Juniper admit she’s bad at anything.

She shakes her head. “There’s something about summoning energy. I struggle with it.”

“Hm…” I rub my thumb against the back of her hand. “Potion-making is a powerful skill. You can do anything with your potions that I would do with a spell. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Her gaze softens, and her eyes meet mine. We stay like that, in silence for some time.

“Thank you,” she says, breaking the quiet with her soft, smooth voice.

“It’s nothing. Just neighborly help, like I said.”

“Really?” She lifts a brow. “That’s all this is?”

What is she asking? I gulp.

It can’t be anything else, no matter how sweet she looks when smiling at me and how good her velvet hands feel in mine. I doubt Juniper wants anything more. Even if she does, I can’t give it.

Not yet.

“Do you want it to be something else?” I whisper. Saying the words aloud feels daring.

I’m afraid of her answer, searching for clues in her expression. We’re feet from where we first kissed near the cash register. She grabbed my shirt and pulled me in. I gasped when our lips touched for the first time.

Then I kissed her again.

It wasn’t the most romantic spot, but it wasn’t supposed to be.

Something about it feels romantic now. I can’t give her anything she deserves, but I think… if she asks me to, I would still kiss her. I’m as weak for her now as I’ve always been.

“No…” She lifts a shoulder. “This is good. I like this.”

Her words bring me back to reality. Of course, Juniper doesn’t want to kiss me. I don’t mind. We’re holding hands, no matter the circumstances.

I like it, too.

Chapter 13

Juniper

I don’t care what he says—I will find a way to repay him. If we’re neighbors, helping each other has to go both ways.

My days are warm now that the shop isn’t going through an early winter. I could have figured it out without Ozan’s help, but there’s no denying having him around was convenient. Ozan fixed the situation faster than I could have figured it out. It’s only natural for me to brew him a potion in thanks.

The Bliss Potion isn’t one I make often. I’ve made it two times in the past. One was for an intimate night with a partner, and the other was for a college party with friends. It would be a strange gift for most, but a witch will know to be grateful.

The potion uses stardust, golden flakes, and fresh fairy-grown vanilla—all expensive ingredients, and for good reason. They’re strong. You can look at the name to see the results. It enhances joy, bliss… and fun. All types of fun.

Maybe he’ll use it. Perhaps he’ll sell it, considering how terrible he is at brewing potions. He used his magic to keep me warm, and I’ll use mine in return. It’s none of my business what he does with it.

This is about getting myself out of debt, and it isn’t any more profound than that. I simply cannot fathom being in debt to Ozan.

I brew enough for three bottles—two for my apothecary and one for Ozan.

“I’m going to lunch.” I don’t look at Maple as I hide the bottle in my bag.

Maple looks up from her place behind the counter. “What are you making? Smells yummy!”

“Bliss potion. If you’re in a better mood this afternoon, that’s why.”

Inhaling it shouldn’t give anyone a full effect, but it lifts the energy of the place the same way any simmer pot would. There are certain potions I have to wait until after close to make for this exact reason.

Maple looks at me with a radiant smile and nods her adorable head.

I’m in an elevated mood, too, but that doesn’t keep me from barging into his apothecary in my usual fashion. It’s two in the afternoon on a Wednesday. This is a dead hour—I know from experience—and for once, he doesn’t disappoint.

Ozan and his black cat are the only ones present. The shop is otherwise peaceful. Perfect.

He lifts his head, and when our eyes meet, he no longer looks shocked to see me. It’s as if he’s been expecting me.

OZAN

I’ve never seen Juniper look so mischievous. She wears a bright smile as she marches into my shop, looking like a woman on a mission.

I point at the ‘gone to lunch’ sign on the door. She either missed it or didn’t care. This isn’t the first time a customer has ignored the sign in favor of their agenda.

What is her agenda? My curiosity keeps me from actually kicking her out.

“I’m having my lunch break,” I say.

Not that I expect her to leave—or that I want her to.

“I am, too.”

“Then what are you doing here? You didn’t bring lunch, and I am not sharing my sandwich.”

She places a heavy, glass, heart-shaped bottle on my desk. It sparkles with a pink sheen. A glimpse of the potion makes my insides twist, and my heart grows warm. I rub my chest absentmindedly.

“I have your payment.” Her smile grows.

“Is this a love potion?” All I want to do is gaze at the bottle. I force my eyes to lift to hers instead, drawn into the twinkle of mirth I find there.

“No!” She scoffs. “I would never give you a love potion—and I could rant and rave about how love potions don’t exist. You can’t manufacture love. This is a bliss potion.”

She’s right. Juniper knows more about potions than I ever will. What most people call a love potion is an obsession potion, and selling them is frowned upon.

A bliss potion is different. It’s still extreme, but it doesn’t create emotions that don’t already exist within the user. The potion she whipped up will elicit extreme joy and sometimes… arousal. Many witches, and other beings, experiment with the potion in college.

I’ve tried it a few times, even though I’ve never brewed it. I wouldn’t have the skills. It’s a complicated potion.

“You’re paying me with drugs?” I smirk and cross my arms.

“Drugs?” Her jaw drops. “It’s a potion—and an expensive one at that. I only use the highest quality ingredients.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“You can sell it,” she says. “Or do whatever you want. What happens next is none of my business.”

I move the potion off to the side. It’s still warm in the bottle, and simply touching it sends a jolt of electricity through me.

“Tell me about the potion,” I say. “I can’t sell it without knowing what it is. What are the ingredients?”

“It’s based on the Way of the Witch recipe, but I add a secret ingredient.”

It’s a well-known book. I trust many of the spells in it, as do other witches.

“What is your secret ingredient?” I prod.

“A secret.” She rolls her eyes. “The point is: we’re even.”

“I told you I don’t want payment.”

“I’m not taking it back.”

“Fine,” I say. “But this isn’t payment. It’s a gift. Neighbors give each other gifts.”

Most people would accept that. Her lips press into a tight line, and I can already see she has an argument brewing. I brace myself with a smile.

“I don’t know⁠—”

Before she can finish her sentence, a shattering sound hits my ears. I don’t see Evren near us until it’s too late. The little black cat—my familiar—stands on the counter with his tail swishing. He looks rather pleased with himself, too.

Juniper’s expensive potion splatters on the ground. A mess of pink and gold seeps into my wood floorboards. Sweet vanilla fills the air, and when my eyes lock onto Juniper’s…

She’s glowing. At least, through my eyes, she is. Her expression softens. Her lips part. My eyes move down to the rising of her chest, and my throat is tight when I swallow. I wet my lips. She does, too.

My gaze lingers on her mouth for too long.

“I made it too strong,” she mumbles.

Under the potion’s influence, the pink of her cheeks is thrilling. She’s flushed. I lift a hand, longing to touch the warmth in her face, but don’t dare make the move.

“Oh?” I barely register what she’s saying. My eyes are stuck on how her lips move.

“Ozan. Focus.” She’s closer now. Her face is inches from mine, and I lean in.

She touches my chest. The touch is nothing, but it’s searing and tingling. I let out a soft groan… only for her to push me away. A longing awakens in me. I want more of her touch, even if it’s not gentle. I would chase it down if not for her pushing me away.

“I’m focusing,” I say.

“It’s a consumable potion. This isn’t supposed to happen.”

“Oh.” My brows furrow. I look at the potion on the ground.

My pants are tight. My cheeks hurt from smiling. A dazed realization clicks into place.

The potion only amplifies what is already there. It can’t make these feelings.

When I meet Juniper’s eyes, I wonder if she’s feeling the same.

I’ve wanted her since she walked into my shop the first day. She’s never looked at me the same way—never looked at me like this.

We’re both leaning in. Warmth sparks between us. She’s a breath away. I lift a hand, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder. Every brush, every touch, hits me to my soul. The fabric of her dress is soft, crimson, silk…

A moan slips past my lips.

“It’s the potion,” she whispers, too quiet to break our awakening desire.

“I don’t know if it is.”

She swallows. We both know it’s more. Magic can’t create emotion—it amplifies it.

“I want it to be the potion,” she says.

“We can pretend.”

She smiles, and it’s enormous and dazed, unlike anything I’ve seen on her. Her fingers trail down my chest, dark nails scraping against the fabric. The soft breaths passing through her lips are nothing—but they sound like ecstasy to me.

I won’t pull away—I don’t want to—but she does. It happens suddenly, and I’m left cold and confused. With a jerking motion, she pulls her hand back.

It’s as if I burned her.

“I have to go!” she squeaks.

“Juni—”

“Close the shop.” She pulls away from me and scrambles for the door. “Shut the door. Lock it up. It should stop working in a few hours.” A giggle falls past her lips.

“What about the floor?”

“Water!” she says. “Ice cold water. It’s easy to clean. I would help, but…”

“You don’t have to go!”

I shouldn’t say it. It makes her laugh again. She’s laughing at the idea of staying with me. Of being with me.

I’m alone, left with a need I’ve been repressing. How can I push it back down? I don’t want to feel this pulsing, craving desire for someone who can’t stay…

She doesn’t want to stay. She’s gone.

JUNIPER

I call out sick for the rest of the day. Maple offers to make me soup, but I decline it. I’m going home to hide in my room.

I am ill, but it’s not that kind of illness. Soup won’t cure this. Nothing will.

A bliss potion isn’t supposed to make me feel lovesick, but it does. The potion can be arousing with the right people. When I took it with a group of friends, it felt like a casual high—a little laughter and creativity. When I took it with my partner… it was more like this.

Hot, heavy, throbbing, needing. I’m dizzy with desire, and it’s for one person. He’s the one person I don’t want to need.

I expect the feelings to leave when I run from his shop, but they follow me. Desire is still there as I close my bedroom door.

I slip out of my clothes with an empty mind. My hands run over my body, nails scraping against goose-bumped flesh. My nipples are hard under my fingers, and a whimper falls past my lips as I touch.

I didn’t imagine the potion would affect me, and certainly not like this.

Seeing how he watched me was arousing. His dark eyes dragged over my lips, over my chest. It felt as if he was touching me everywhere his eyes wandered. I can still feel the fire of his stare.

I saw Ozan in a new light. I can still see him like that. He’s imprinted in my mind. Has he always been here? Thoughts I’ve been pushing off come to the front—the way the tool belt was slung low over his hips. The tight shirts gripping at his arms and chest…

I fling myself into bed and cover my face with my hands. I’m alone. No one else is in my head. They can’t hear how I want him, but it’s mortifying.

I’ve been here before. Too high, hiding in my bed, waiting to come back down. We’ve all been here, haven’t we? There’s less time for fun in my current life, but I used to have fun and…

As confusing as this is, it feels fun. I want to let myself have it. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself.

When was the last time I touched myself? I’ve been so busy.

My hand slips between my legs, and I gasp. Arousal coats my fingers. With wide eyes, I stare at the painted stars on my ceiling. They’re sparkling from the light of the potion and…

I made some miscalculations. It shouldn’t be this strong. I didn’t even consume it. Gods, I can’t sell this to anyone. That’s a problem for later. Running a business and making decisions in this mindset is no good.

My fingers brush over my hard clit. I gasp. A slight touch of my fingers is electricity. My back arches under the touch, and he’s here again when I close my eyes.

Ozan is shirtless. I can imagine the dark hair on his chest and his biceps flexing as he holds himself over me. His dark eyes bore into mine. I circle my fingers against my wet, throbbing clit. My hips lift, bucking against my hand.

In my head, it’s him. He’s filling me. His hand is around my throat. He’s whispering in my ear in his rough, low, hot voice.

What would he say to me? How would he touch my soft skin? How would his strong, thick, calloused fingers feel against my pert nipples? I grasp my breast with my other hand, whimpering under my touch.

Ozan held me once. Just once, in the office of my apothecary. It was nothing. He held my icy hands and shared his warmth, letting his magic surround me. His thumb brushed against the back of my hand and for that moment… I felt safe.

With the potion pushing me into bliss, I have no trouble admitting I felt it with him. There was someone else taking care of me. It’s more than desire and heat. I long for something tender, too.

To give myself to someone else. To let them care for me. To push my pleasure in their hands. It isn’t someone. I could find a warm body if I wanted to. That’s not what I want. Ecstasy has a name, and it’s his.

I want him. I need to hear Ozan whispering, telling me how good I am for caring for myself like this. I need him to taste me, and touch me, and fill me, and…

The sound of his imaginary moan echoes in my mind as I push myself to the edge.

Chapter 14

Ozan

I don’t expect to see Juniper again. She was a flustered ball of chaos when she left, and I was drowning in desire.

By the morning, I’m fully recovered. The shop is clean, and I’m no longer overwhelmed by bliss. We should be able to forget it happened—because nothing happened.

It turns out that forgetting her is damn near impossible. She was on my mind before, but it’s nothing like now.

Juniper walks past the shop with her dark bag slung over her shoulder and a look of determination on her face. Her black dress stops right above her thighs, and her dark stockings are the only thing keeping her legs warm.

I could warm her with my hands. I look at the expanse of bare skin between her stockings and the dress and… I shake my head.

The potion is gone. Why do I still feel this? I’ve always been attracted to her, but it’s more than that now. It’s gnawing and pleading. There’s an eternal fluttering in my stomach.

If Juniper wants to talk to me, she’ll stop by. She’s not shy.

I want to talk to her. The desire pushes me out of the shop, lingering by the door and lifting a hand to get her attention.

“Hey—” I say.

“No.”

My heart plummets.

She could keep walking—but she doesn’t. She halts but won’t meet my eye. Her fingers fiddle with the strap of her bag. Warmth spreads across her cheeks like a soft, pink blush.

Juniper looks sweet as candy, but her eyes lift to meet mine, and there’s sharpness behind her stare. I could still eat her right up.

“We should talk,” I say.

“No, thank you.” The laughter falling from her lips feels more flustered than final.

“Why not?”

“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

I grimace. “I think there is…”

We’ve kissed before—once—and I know it was moments from happening again last night. There was tension between us. It was more than the potion for me; it must be for her, too.

Why should we keep ignoring it?

“That will never happen again,” she says.

“What won’t happen?”

“Whatever you think happened last night.”

I lift a brow. “What happened?”

I’m desperate to get an answer from her. If she can admit she felt it too, we can go somewhere with the conversation. It won’t be easy. Anyone can see Juniper is stubborn, especially when it comes to me.

Her nostrils flare. “The potion. I’m swearing off brewing that potion.”

“Oh, don’t do that. We didn’t make the most of it, but… it could have been a grand time for someone else.”

“It was too strong.” Her features stay flat.

I cross my arms. “Is that your way of blaming your feelings on the potion?”

“Yes.” She lifts her head. “It is. Or it would be if I had any feelings, but there were no feelings. Do you get it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. If you don’t mind, I have to open my shop.”

“I don’t mind at all.” I shrug, trying to play coy. It’s probably too late for that. “I’ll see you around.”

“You probably won’t.”

“I hope I will.” I pause. “Can I come visit you later?”

Juniper hesitates. Her face is flushed again. Her lips part, and the wind blows, pushing her bangs around wildly.

“You can do whatever you want,” she says, “as long as you’re a paying customer.”

She doesn’t outright tell me to stay away. It gives me a spark of hope. There’s a smile on her face as she goes.

I can’t believe I’m letting myself get wrapped up in this again. Knowing I want Juniper differs from allowing myself to have her—or anything close to a relationship. The game of cat and mouse is too fun for me to stop, even though I know I’m headed into dangerous territory.

One wrong move and my heart is on the cutting board. Losing my first love made me feel like I lost myself. I don’t think I can take that again.

But this? Juniper doesn’t want me. This is safe. It’s a game for her, and I can pretend it is for me, too.

JUNIPER

Why would he want to see me again? I made a fool of myself with that potion.

I’ve done everything I can to push him away. It doesn’t work. And, okay, I don’t want it to anymore—but I need it to. Whatever happened last night is over. I got it out of my system.

There’s no way the effects of the potion are still lingering today. No matter how strong I made it, it can’t last overnight.

Why am I hot and flustered when I arrive at my apothecary? Why are there butterflies in my stomach? Why am I utterly frustrated? The last feeling lets me know it’s not the potion at all. It’s Ozan. He found another yet way to frustrate me.

I’m sure it would bring him tremendous joy to know he is now the object of my deepest desires.

The feelings fade into the background as hours pass.

I spend another day pretending to be my mother. That’s how I feel. It wasn’t the intention of opening the shop. I wanted to feel closer to her, but I don’t.

She never felt like this during her days at the shop. She couldn’t wait to talk to customers, decorate the shop for each occasion, and plan events. When I’m here, I don’t carry the same fire. I let the day coast by.

Our first big event is coming up, and I’ve barely planned for it. The Harvest Festival is important in Starbrook. I know that, but I don’t do anything to help us prepare.

Instead, my sisters take the lead. They do a fantastic job—better than I can muster.

As Halloween draws closer, the shop picks up. I sell a few tarot decks, spell candles, and crystals to people trying to get in the spirit of the season. None of them are witches, but human clientele is as important.

They may be even more essential. Witches can make their spell candles and potions on their own. They can charm their tea. Often, they buy from us for convenience, but they don’t need me to make magic for them.

Lunch comes, and Laurel takes her shift behind the counter, leaving me to duck into our little office. I pull out my thermos of chicken soup, inhaling the scent of thyme and rosemary as I screw off the top.

Maple made me soup even though I insisted I wasn’t really sick. Hopefully, it will cure whatever feelings are plaguing me.

This is officially going to be my favorite part of the day. I lift the steaming mug to my lips, preparing for a delicious sip. Footsteps enter the shop, but I pay it no mind as muffled words pass through the door.

A small, warm slurp of broth hits my tongue. I close my eyes, sighing happily.

The bliss—not from a potion this time—is cut short.

“Juniper!” Laurel calls, with glee in her lilted voice. “Someone is here to see you.”

Terrific. It must be a customer asking about a potion. I sigh and push my chair back, prepared to join her in the main room.

Before I can, a large hand shoves away the curtains at the door, and Ozan’s hulking figure steps inside. He shoves his hands into his pockets, peering at me with a bewildered look.

He’s already been in the office. He’s been in the basement. Ozan has been all over the shop. Why does he look like he doesn’t belong?

“You said I could come by,” he says.

I lift a brow. “I said you can come if you’re a paying customer. What are you going to buy?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I want to see you first.”

“I’m eating.” I lift the thermos.

“You interrupted my lunch yesterday.”

My eyes narrow. “Then this is revenge?”

“Maybe. It won’t take long.” He pulls his hands from his pockets, and… he’s holding something.

Ozan dangles a necklace in front of my face. It’s a lapis lazuli point on a silver chain. The magic radiates from it—an intense energy of focus. He sets it on the desk before me. The energy draws me in.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Payback,” he says, “for the drink you brought me.”

I press my fingers to my temples. “That was supposed to be me paying you.”

My gift wasn’t an invitation to start another competition! I’m never going to get even with this man. Not to mention that the gift was…well, a failure. Wasn’t it?

“We agreed it was a gift,” he says. “It’s normal to return gifts.”

“You didn’t get to enjoy the potion.”

“Oh, I enjoyed it.”

My lips part, but no sound comes from them.

I force myself to break the spell, and to tear my mind from thoughts of him enjoying the potion… the same way I did.

“Seriously?” I stand up and fix him with a glare. “What will this crystal do?”

“I spelled it to enhance communication and concentration. I thought it could help with the shop.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I don’t care.” He turns his back on me and makes his way to the door.

Without stopping to get the charm, I follow him out. A few customers are lingering around, but I ignore them.

“Don’t walk away from me!” I call.

“Too late,” he says. “I have a shop to run. See you later, Juni.”

Customers are staring. I don’t realize until he’s already gone.

Laurel’s gaze is on me, feeling heavier than the rest. Her eyes sparkle as she watches me from her spot at the register.

“He forgot to buy something,” I mutter.

“He is so into you,” she says.

“Be quiet.” My eyes dart to the customers.

“Oh, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“I wouldn’t worry about someone overhearing us. He already knows he’s into you. Did he seriously bring you another gift?”

“It’s payback. He’s trying to torment me.”

“That was his excuse.” She crosses her arms. “What’s the deal with him, anyway?”

She would be too young to know. Maple understands our history well, but I can’t say the same about my other sisters. Aspen would get it, too, but… she’s not here.

“He’s always been an…” I want to insult him, but it dies on my tongue. “I guess we just didn’t get along. We met in high school.”

“And?”

“And he was always one-upping me in class.” And vice versa. “We both ran for class president, and of course, he won. He was more popular. It’s all a popularity contest.”

“You’re too old to hold a grudge about that.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about him opening a new apothecary when I was still mourning my mother.”

He claimed not to know about it, and I believe him now. Believing him does nothing to stop the bitterness. I cling to the sour feelings in hopes of ignoring everything else I feel for him.

The throbbing. The need.

“Was he mean to you?” Laurel frowns.

“No. Some of his friends were, but…”

Ozan stood up for me. I still remember him smacking his friends upside the head and telling them to shut up. He was annoying, but better than most of the brainless jocks I went to school with. Many are still in town; some even dare to act like we’re friends now.

I won’t lump Ozan in with them, no matter how much I dislike him. It’s always been different. He and I are on even ground.

“It sounds like he’s always liked you.” Laurel presses her lips together.

“That is not the case.” I hesitate. “He’s different now that he’s older. Maturity does that, I suppose.”

“So, what’s going on now?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I brought him a bliss potion, and there was a…mess. But it was nothing.”

“A bliss potion? You mean, the ones you sell for three hundred dollars?” Her jaw drops. “I take it back. You’re into him.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re blushing!”

“Laurel.” My voice is stern. “You need to stop scheming. I know what you did with the heater. That was out of line.”

“I didn’t do anything.” She laughs. “You make it sound like I broke the heater or something!”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Juni!” She pouts. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

“Fine, but you sent him over. That was enough.”

“He looks like a guy who knows his way around a tool belt.”

Is it possible for my face to grow hotter? I think it does.

“I suppose… he managed to fix it,” I say blandly.

“He definitely did. This place is nice and toasty. I can see why you had to thank him, but I’m sure he would have liked another form of gratitude…” She waggles her eyebrows.

“Laurel!”

“What? I’m talking about, like, cookies.”

I would have given him anything he asked for that day. I still remember his warm hands holding mine and his dark, piercing gaze…

But Ozan didn’t ask for a thing. He was happy to stand there with me in the quiet.

Laurel doesn’t know about those things, thank goddess, and I have no intention of telling her. They’re pointless memories, ones I’ll keep locked in my chest. All for me.

Knowing would give her too much ammunition to continue her meddling.

No matter how warm his hands were, I don’t want anyone pushing us together. That’s the last thing either of us needs. Ozan doesn’t like me. He gains pleasure in tormenting me, but that’s different.

And I certainly don’t like him, no matter what my body seems to think.

“I’m just glad he figured it out,” I say. “It was easy.”

“It was too hard for you to do alone…”

“Don’t rub it in.” I turn away from her, hiding my hot face. “I’m going to finish my lunch. Don’t let anyone else disturb me—especially Ozan.”

Chapter 15

Ozan

This used to be my favorite time of year.

The Haunted Harvest Festival in Starbrook is a big deal. People from all over central Maine come to shop, drink, eat, wander around the supposedly haunted buildings, and enjoy what our little town has to offer.

It’s less enjoyable now that I’m running a booth.

I submitted my vendor application in time to snag a prime location, and I expect to make some major gains from the event. My booth has a bit of everything—charms, potion samples, herb bundles, and tea leaves. I even got an electric kettle to brew tea at the stand, giving the cold visitors a reason to stop by.

My spirits aren’t as high as I would like. Nostalgia hits me like a crashing wave. I miss coming to the festival, walking around, and inspecting the goods.

My life is lonely now. I’m one of the few people setting up my booth alone. There are no employees at my shop and no one to help. It’s just me putting out my little ‘hot tea’ sign.

The Hawthorne’s booth is three times as big as mine. Their business has always been a foundational part of the event. I can’t imagine the festival without them.

The four sisters rush around their sizable booth. Their sign is more prominent than mine and covered in hand-painted decorations that are sure to capture the eye.

The smell of hot cider wafts from their booth to mine.

Not only does my stall pale in comparison—but we’re right beside each other. Juniper has been shooting me her adorable little death glare all day. She must be mad about the necklace, but she hasn’t tried to return it.

She and I are getting somewhere, even if I don’t know where we’re heading.

As nightfall approaches, the fun begins. The maze and hayride are set up, Greene’s is showing off its funniest produce, and the local bakery has a stand of the freshest pies. Fairy lights are strung about the little town square, bringing the place to life for the darkest time of the year.

It’s Juniper’s favorite holiday—or it was when we were younger. Some would call it a cliché for a witch, and maybe it is, but I still want to give her something to be happy about.

I don a playful smile as I slip by their booth with a warm pumpkin scone. Juniper is already glaring at me.

“How’s everything going?” I ask. “Are you all set up?”

I pose the question to Juniper, but she is not the one who answers.

“It’s going swell!” Maple says. “We had trouble with the extension cord earlier⁠—”

Juniper cuts her sister off with a shake of her head. “Everything is fine. It’s going exactly as planned.”

“Right.” I snicker and set the scone down on their booth. “Brought you a little snack, Juni. I didn’t see you eating today, so…”

“Were you watching me?” She lifts a brow.

“Well…” Heat rushes to my face. I try to brush the feeling off. “You know, you can thank me instead of questioning me.”

“It sounds like you’re monitoring my behaviors.”

“Should I take this back?” I lift a brow.

“No!” She slides her hand over the scone and pulls it closer. “Thank you.”

Her sisters are still watching. There’s a heaviness in their stare.

“Let me know if you have any other technical problems,” I say. “I’ll be busy at the booth, but… I can make time for you.”

My eyes linger on Juniper before I back away.

Giggles erupt from the sisters when I turn.

I make it through the evening without arguing with Juniper, and they don’t have another problem with their extension cord. They wouldn’t be able to stop and fix it if they did. Their booth is bustling all evening, and I get a few stragglers who don’t want to wait in their long line. It works out for both of us.

While my shop gets more activity than theirs on a regular day, I can’t deny the event favors them. It may be nostalgia at play.

Connecting with new people and giving out my business card makes the event worth it. It’s a fun time once I settle in.

Until it isn’t.

When I first spot her, she looks like a ghost. A figment of my imagination. Anything other than real. Vanessa can’t be here.

But she is, and she isn’t alone. Otis is at her side, as dutiful as ever. He was always loyal—just not to me, his best friend.

My stomach sinks.

What are they doing here? Boston is four hours away.

Vanessa and I came to the festival together a few times. She always liked it. She enjoys everything witchy, even though she doesn’t have a magical bone in her body.

They’re walking in my direction. I duck my head in a feeble attempt to hide from her laser beam stare.

“Ozan.” There’s a smile in Vanessa’s voice.

The last thing I want is to look up and see her smiling face. I want to disappear. I force myself to meet her gaze, but can’t fake a smile.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Your parents invited me,” she says.

My attention shifts to my old friend. “And why the hell are you here?”

Vanessa being here is bad enough. My parents inviting her makes sense, considering that they harbor notions of us reuniting and living happily ever after.

I doubt my parents asked Otis to come.

How much audacity can one couple carry? These two must be overwhelmed with it.

Otis’s smile fades. “Vanessa asked me to come…”

“You could have gone anywhere—any other festival or haunted place.” My voice breaks. “But you came here. Do you realize how messed up this is?”

Vanessa moves away from Otis and stands in front of me. Too close. I’m suffocating on her perfume—it was so comforting. It used to lull me to sleep. Not anymore.

I hate the smell of lavender now. It makes me sick. I can’t even sell the herb at my apothecary.

“I’ve been worried about you,” she says. “Your mom told me you’re running this little shop, and… that’s not you. I want you to come back to Boston.”

When I look away, I realize Otis is gone. What a coward.

“Seriously?” I let out a bitter laugh.

“We can’t be what keeps you from the place you love,” she says. “Come home.”

I am home. The thought hits me out of nowhere. I don’t love Boston anymore. I hate it. Starbrook has always been my home. I didn’t feel like that when I was a teenager, but after spending a few weeks here…

I’m more comfortable in Starbrook than I ever was in Boston. The magic of the town will always pull me back in. Knowing my neighbors, supporting the local shops, and reconnecting with old friends…

This is where I want to be.

Vanessa won’t understand, and I don’t owe her an explanation. She shouldn’t even be here.

“I’m happy in Starbrook,” I say. “I don’t want to go back to Boston. You aren’t keeping me from anything.”

I don’t want her to think she’s controlling my life in any way. She isn’t. This is all for me.

“You can’t possibly be happy here. I brought you away from this nowhere town… just for you to come back?”

“I like this nowhere town. I thought you liked it, too.”

“It’s a fun place to visit, but living here…it isn’t you.”

“Stop. You don’t know me anymore.”

I can’t deny that she used to know me, but I’m not who I was when we were together. Being that person again doesn’t appeal to me. Obsessing over work and barely having time to practice my magic…

I was unhappy. I couldn’t see it then, but distance has made me realize how much happier I can be. Even though I’m alone, I’m happier than I was with her. She must feel the same. You don’t cheat on someone if you’re satisfied with them.

I could have done more to make her happy and avoid all of this, but I can’t go back in time, and I don’t want to.

Vanessa hasn’t changed as much as I have. I wish it were different. I wish we could be friends and realize where things went wrong, but we can’t.

I saw her through rose-colored glasses for a long time, and then I took them off. Her encouragement was pushy. She molded me into another person to fit who she wanted me to be. She wanted me to be successful and hardworking—but ran off to someone else when I spent too much time in the office.

Why can’t she like me like this?

“Excuse me.” Juniper’s sultry tone hits my ear, and I turn to look at her with shock etched across my features.

Vanessa blinks. “Can we have a moment? This is a private conversation.”

“But it isn’t,” Juniper says. “You’re arguing in a crowded festival. You can’t blame me for overhearing.”

I’m at a loss for words. I shake my head at Juniper.

Vanessa bristles. “I’ll try to keep it down,” she says coolly.

“Too late,” Juniper says. “It’s fine. I came here to inform you that Ozan runs one of the most successful shops in Starbrook. You may think it’s cute to belittle his accomplishments, but people from all over Maine are here for him today. Not you. Everyone in his life is proud of him. He built this business all by himself, and he runs it alone. Do you know how hard it is to run a business alone? Let that sink in.”

Vanessa seems to be at a loss for words, too.

Juniper is a perfect reflection of the goddess she worships. Persephone Praxidice: the face of justice and vengeance. Her gaze is sharp and strong, as is her presence. There is no more powerful vision than a witch reflecting their deity. Lust stirs in me.

I swallow thickly.

“And apparently, we have visitors from Boston too.” Juniper tosses her hair over her shoulder. “If you don’t want to be here, the exit is that way. Let me know if you need a map.”

Juniper meets my gaze. I blink—still speechless—and she sidesteps back to her booth.

“Who is that?” Vanessa hisses.

“Uh… that’s Juniper. She’s an old…” What? I can’t call her a friend, can I? It’s one of the many things Vanessa won’t understand.

She lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I see. That’s why you came back.”

After everything, Vanessa is jealous. She still thinks she can be possessive of me, but she can’t. That’s not fair.

My expression goes flat. “I think we’re done here. Go back to Otis.”

Her face falls. “Ozzy…”

“Don’t call me that,” I say. “Just go.”

Chapter 16

Juniper

The lapis lazuli he gave me dangles around my neck, hidden under my dress, and I wonder if this is part of its intention. It is a stone of communication, after all. Blue crystals usually are.

But I doubt he meant for me to use it like this…

I tore down a stranger, and it may have been his ex-wife.

Arguing with Ozan is a pastime of mine, but what she said is over the top. Bringing her date is, too.

She’s gone now. Most people are. The town square has gone quiet, and only the vendors remain.

I should talk to Ozan. Even though I was standing up for him, I owe him an apology. I embarrassed him—not just in front of the other woman, but the entire festival.

It’s embarrassing for me, too. My sisters will never let this go.

I put off approaching him until the night is nearly over. My sisters are in the car, bringing the items back to the shop, and I’m about to call it a night… when Ozan draws near to me instead.

He looks sheepish when he does, standing with his hands in his pockets and a half-smile on his face.

“Need any help?” he asks.

“We already took care of everything.” I smirk. “You should have come sooner.”

This may be my first time requesting his presence. Things are changing, and I don’t know when it started or where it will end.

He lets out a short laugh. “You’re right. That wasn’t very chivalrous of me. I guess that’s because you’re the chivalrous one.”

I wince. “Listen. I’m sorry, that was embarrassing⁠—”

“No. It was sweet.”

“I’m never sweet.”

“It was sweet by my standards. If it weren’t for you, I would have had to brag about my business myself. That would be an ugly look, so… thank you.”

I press my lips together. “Was that your ex? Seriously?”

He shrugs. “I guess so.”

“Was she always a monster?”

“No?” He shakes his head. “Or… I don’t know. I don’t think so. She’s going through a rough patch.”

It’s a divorce, I guess. It’s hard for both sides—not that I would know.

“I’m glad I never got married,” I say. “That feels like… a lot.”

“There’s still time. You never think about getting married?”

“Not really. I haven’t had anything close to that in… well, in a long time. What? Are you going to sell marriage to me after that?”

“I may not be the best salesperson. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll get married again.”

I find it astounding that he would consider remarrying at all. Curiosity nips at me—but I don’t take the call.

“That’s what I thought.” I step closer and cross my arms. “Tell me about her—or your relationship.”

I mean to phrase it as a request, but the words come out firm and harsh. I cringe at the sound of my voice.

“What do you want to know?” he asks.

“What happened to make her like that?”

There has to be something.

“I don’t know. She cheated on me—with my friend. That was the man you saw her with.”

“What?” I let out a choked laugh. “She had the gall to come here with him?”

“She was trying to help… I think.”

“There are better ways to help. Come on. That was deliberate—and evil.”

The wind blows. I push my hair out of my face—and his fingers twitch at his sides before relaxing.

“I don’t want to keep talking about her,” he says. “You helped. That’s all.”

“I tried. I would have done more if I knew the full story.”

“How much more are we talking?” He grins. “I can’t imagine you throwing fists.”

“Oh, nothing like that. I’m better at verbal sparring. The moment there’s a fist in the air, I’m gone.”

“Respectable.” He looks me up and down. It feels like he’s stripping me bare.

A shiver runs up my spine.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he says.

“Sure. It’s the least you can do.” I give him a cheeky smile.

Between the veil growing thinner and the adrenaline from the festival, the night is strange. Ozan and I getting along adds to the abnormality, too.

“I can’t believe you’re still driving your high school car,” he says.

“Why not?” I pat the hood of my old, rusty graduation gift. “It works. I take care of it. Regular maintenance means a car can last… well, not a lifetime, but a long time.”

“That’s a feat.” He tilts his head to the side. “Am I going to see you at the after-party?”

I’m drained from the long day, and I yearn to go home, shower, and hide in bed…

But it sounds like Ozan wants me there. Why does that make me want to go?

“Who’s throwing it this year?” I ask.

“Donnie. You can’t miss a Donnie party.”

“Then I guess I’ll be there.”

There’s a rich air between us. My heart thumps in my chest.

“Let’s go together,” he says.

I should say no. I should want to say no. But I don’t, and he doesn’t make it sound like a question. Ozan is sure of this. Why shouldn’t I be?

“Okay.” I drop my keys back into my purse. “You’re driving.”

I can’t believe I’m here with Ozan. It feels wrong to enter the party with him, and I know I’m not imagining things when heads turn to stare at us in the entryway. By this time tomorrow, they’ll be spreading rumors about us.

They won’t be true. I’m here so he can drive me home, and to have a drink or two. There’s no other reason.

Donnie and his husband throw the best parties in Starbrook. The others don’t bother trying to outshine them. The couple is especially known for their Christmas party, but their harvest party isn’t one you want to miss.

It’s not quite the Halloween party—that will be next week, and everyone will be dressed up.

This is more casual. Groups of people linger around their large home with glasses of spiked hot chocolate and warm cider. Soft music plays in the background.

“Juniper! Ozan!” Donnie calls our names as he weaves through the party. “Oh, it’s great to see you.”

Donnie is a tall, half-demon man. His outfits always match his purple, curling horns; tonight is no exception. He stands out in an otherwise casual party, and I know standing out is the intention. Donnie loves attention.

We’ve been acquaintances since high school—he was two years ahead of me. I can tell by how he looks at me that he’s surprised to see us together. Anyone from our school would be.

“Good to see you, too.” I smile politely. “You outdid yourself with this one.”

“You say that at every party.” Donnie chuckles and gives me a one-armed hug. “Get a drink, settle in, and find me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Ozan pats the demon on the back.

We’re silent until Donnie is out of earshot.

“He’s right,” I mutter, going to the drink table. “I need a drink.”

Ozan follows. Of course, he does. We came together.

There’s no denying that feeling his colossal form shadowing me makes me warm. His presence is protective, even if he doesn’t mean it to be.

I pour myself a cup of warm cider, and, to my surprise, he grabs an ice-cold bottle.

“What? You aren’t cold?” I lift a brow.

He shrugs. “I run hot.”

My gaze sweeps over his body without meaning to—to the scruff of hair on his face and the chest hair poking out of his V-neck shirt…

I swallow thickly. “Yeah. You seem like you do.”

He doesn’t ask what I mean—and I’m grateful because I have no idea. Who says that?

A lazy smile appears on his lips. “You run cold, don’t you?”

“I’m as cold as anyone else. I run average.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“What makes you so sure? You don’t know anything about me.”

I expect Ozan to come up with a retort. It never comes. He looks over my head—easy to do, considering he towers over me.

“Ozan?” I tug at his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t look.” He turns his attention back to me. Panic registers in his round eyes. “It’s Vanessa.”

“Who?”

“My ex.”

“Oh.”

Oh…

Not only did I tear her a new one in hopes of defending his honor, but… she’s here. Great.

I know how this looks. It seems like we’re together, or at least that I have feelings for him. He doesn’t want to be seen with me. When you’re trying to impress your tall, hot, modelesque ex-wife, you don’t use me for the job.

No, I’m not another self-loathing fat woman. Ozan would be lucky to have me on his arm.

I don’t want to be used to make her jealous, thank you very much. Still, Vanessa and I cannot be compared, and that is a fact. We’re like day and night, and⁠—

“Can we kiss?” Ozan blurts out.

His words are jarring—not because the idea revolts me, but because they’re the opposite of what I expect to come from his mouth. He should step away from me or do something to make it clear we’re platonic.

Instead, he’s asking to kiss me. The drink in my hand shakes. My heart pounds.

“What?” I breathe.

“I want her to think I moved on. I know, it’s stupid⁠—”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Move on?” I step closer.

I don’t want to be used by anyone, for any reason, including making someone jealous. This is for me. I would love to make Vanessa’s blood boil. I think she deserves it, and if there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s dishing out justice.

“I’m trying to move on,” he says. “Her being here is…” He shakes his head.

Then, he hasn’t moved on. My stomach flips and sinks.

Ozan must really need my help.

“Good,” I say. “Keep trying.”

I grab a fistful of his shirt. When I pull him in, his eyes register surprise, but there’s no reluctance. His expression melts as he leans down to kiss me, bridging the foot of distance between us.

His beard grazes against my skin. It’s the first sensation I feel, and it’s not unpleasant, but it’s nothing compared to his soft lips on mine.

We’re hesitant at first. My eyes droop shut, and my head tilts to the side as our lips slot together.

The tension breaks. How long has it been building between us? I’ve ignored it since the potion incident, but it feels like it started before. It’s ancient, swirling, begging to break free since our souls were created.

His free hand moves to my waist, tugging me until I’m flush against him. He touches the small of my back, and his fingers dig in.

We can stop now. I don’t want to.

My lips part in a desperate invitation, and he accepts with equal fervor. Everyone is watching. I don’t care. Need rushes through me.

Finally, I’m living my fantasies. He’ll never know, but this is for me as much as it is for him. His tongue slips into my mouth, and a soft moan passes between us.

It may be his or mine. We meld into one.

The vibrating sound brings me back to reality. Back to where we are, and who I’m kissing—and why I should not, in a million years, feel warmth pooling between my legs. Not with him.

We pull away and look at each other with wide eyes.

“Th-thank you,” he says in a low voice.

“Do you think that was enough for her?” I ask.

His eyes darken, and heat blazes between us.

“No,” he says. “She needs more.”

OZAN

I don’t know if Vanessa is watching anymore, and I don’t care. There is no hesitation as Juniper and I explore each other’s mouths. This isn’t the sort of party where we should be doing this. We’ll be the talk of the town when tomorrow comes, but…

I’m not thinking straight. Kissing Juniper makes me dizzy.

The next kiss is as long as the last, and I don’t want it to end. I press a few gentle pecks to her lips. Each time I pull away, she’s chasing me for another one.

“I don’t think she’s watching,” I say, though I still don’t know.

I can’t bring myself to look or care. This isn’t for her anymore. It’s not just for me, either. A soft sound of regret and need comes from the back of Juniper’s pretty throat.

Even though I’ll regret it, I want to give her a chance to stop it before we go too far.

“Oh,” she breathes.

Her cheeks are pink when we pry away from each other.

I’m kissing Juniper. It’s not the first time—but it’s better than the last. So much better. We’re not foolish, bumbling teenagers now. She’s not my first kiss anymore. In a way, she always will be…

But it doesn’t feel like that now.

It feels like I need her. She said she wants me to move on but doesn’t realize how much she’s helping me do it. I’ve always been attracted to Juniper, but this is something else.

She looks up at me with wet, parted lips. Does she know how enticing she is?

I never wanted to open my heart again, but it feels inevitable now. She opened my chest and pulled out my desire. I can’t shove it back in.

If there’s a chance she wants me like I want her, I need to tell her.

“Do you think—” I start.

I never get to finish.

Laurel meanders over with a gigantic smile on her face and a big drink in her hand. “Hey, lovebirds.”

Juniper’s pink cheeks turn red. “It’s not like that!” she blurts.

I can’t even be offended. I don’t have any younger siblings, but I wouldn’t want them to know about my love life if I did.

Laurel leans on the wall. That’s the first giveaway that she’s drunk. The next is her lifting her cocktail to her lips and taking several moments to get the straw in her mouth.

She takes an unnecessarily long drink.

“Juniper was doing me a favor,” I say.

“Oh, I bet she was,” Laurel says. “Looks like you’re going to be doing a lot of favors later, if you know what I mean.”

I chuckle nervously. “I really don’t…”

Juniper shifts—it’s one I recognize. The fun, sweet, soft, kissable Juniper is gone. Her hands are on her hips, her eyes narrow, and I know she’s about to lecture someone.

On second thought, she’s equally kissable like this. I want to kiss the scowl right off her mouth.

For once, she won’t be lecturing me. I may enjoy this.

“Are you drunk?” Juniper asks.

Laurel shrugs. “It’s a party. Everyone is drinking; you’re drinking!”

“Laurel…”

Laurel tears up before Juniper can begin her lecture. Her lower lip trembles.

“Don’t,” Laurel mumbles. She tries to set her cup down and knocks it over in the process. If the liquid spilling bothers her, she doesn’t let it show. “Don’t act like Mom. You’re not my mom.”

“I’m not—” Juniper shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry. This was… fun… but I have to go deal with her.”

“Deal with me?” Laurel wails.

Juniper winces. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine,” I murmur. “I get it.”

This is a reminder of how much the Hawthornes are going through. From the outside, they are perfectly fine. They’re working together and focusing on their shop.

But they’re not okay. Why would they be? They lost their mother. Losing the head woman is a big deal in any family, but in a family of witches, it’s huge.

Laurel stumbles through the party but only takes a few steps before falling to the floor.

Juniper pulls away to follow her, but I touch her arm. She stops.

“You didn’t bring your car,” I say.

“I can drive Laurel’s.”

“No. Let me help you get her home.”

Juniper’s brows furrow. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Yes,” I say, “I do.”

Our eyes lock. Neither of us speaks for several moments. The only thing I hear is the Monster Mash playing in the background.

“Okay,” Juniper says, so low I nearly miss it. “If you’re sure.”

I am sure. Her other sisters are nowhere to be seen, and someone needs to help Juniper. This is another example of her trying to take care of everything alone.

For some reason, Laurel is more receptive to my suggestions than her sister’s. It takes both of us to keep her upright, but we get her in my truck with minimal fussing.

Hopefully, she doesn’t get sick in my backseat.

“You good back there?” I watch Laurel through the rearview mirror as I carefully drive through the streets.

Juniper sits beside me in the front; she hasn’t said anything since we started driving.

“Super good,” Laurel slurs, leaning against the window. “Do you know where my bed is?”

“It’s certainly not in this truck,” Juniper mutters.

“We’re almost home,” I say louder, hoping to overpower Juniper’s snarky answer.

Quick transportation is a small-town perk. The downfall is everything else—including the gossip that is sure to come. What will the townsfolk be more interested in: Laurel being drunk in public or Juniper and I?

It will be tough for them to pick which piece of gossip to focus on. Either way, the Hawthorne sisters are in for a frustrating week.

We park outside their home, and I help Laurel exit the backseat.

“I’m so excited for bed,” Laurel says.

The youngest Hawthorne would eat dirt if I didn’t help her down, but with my guiding hand, she manages to land on her feet. Juniper follows behind as I walk them to the front door. Laurel holds onto the wall, stumbling inside, and I reluctantly let her go.

“Come on in,” Laurel says.

With an open mouth, I turn to face Juniper. “I don’t have to⁠—”

“I know,” Juniper says. “But I want you to. Come.”

My heart races. Does Juniper want me…inside her home? I can hardly process her words. I’ve been visiting the family shop since I was a kid, but I’ve never visited their home. It feels sacred.

From the outside, it’s a large, cozy, red house. There’s a porch swing, wildflowers on the grass, and several interesting gnomes.

But gods, she sounds exhausted. We’re all tired after the long day, but no one sounds as worn down as Juniper.

Laurel takes her shoes off and kicks them in opposite directions before collapsing on the couch.

I stand near the doorway, unsure where Juniper wants me.

“Thank you for this,” Juniper whispers, stepping closer. “Laurel is going through a lot right now…”

“I know she is,” I say. “So are you.”

She blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I should stop, but I can’t. “I see what you’re going through—all of you. But you? You’re going through it while taking care of everyone else. That’s a lot of pressure.”

She sighs slowly, and her eyes close. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

Touching Juniper is a one-way ticket to her swatting me away. I don’t bother with it. Something possesses me now. I touch her shoulder gently at first, and when she doesn’t shrug me off, I squeeze.

“It can’t be easy on you,” I say. “But you’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t…” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know if I am.”

This is the closest Juniper has come to breaking down in my presence. She’s still hanging on, but I want her to know she can let go. I’ll be there to catch her.

As a neighbor, of course. After a long night, I have to remind myself that’s all I am to her.

I slide my hand down her arm, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. When I’m at the bottom, she’s reaching for me. Her fingers interlace with mine. She squeezes hard—tight enough for me to feel the pressure but not enough to hurt.

I squeeze back.

“You will be okay,” I say.

Her eyes flicker open, and she meets my gaze with more softness than I would ever expect. “How do you know?”

“Because I know you. I see you.”

“I don’t want to be seen.”

“Too bad.”

Her lips part again, and her hand is still in mine. She could let go, but she doesn’t. I could too, but I won’t.

I know I can lean in and kiss her—and I want to—but I won’t do that either. Not right now. It’s not what she needs.

The night has me feeling bold. I take another risk, brushing my lips against her forehead instead.

She lets out a soft, sweet gasp.

“Get some rest,” I murmur. “Everything will be clearer in the morning.”

Chapter 17

Juniper

We kissed, and he kissed my forehead. We held hands. I have my reasons for avoiding Ozan over the upcoming days.

Work is hellish. Everyone who comes into the shop is whispering, and it’s probably about us. I can’t convince myself otherwise.

The shop is busier today. I can’t tell if it’s because of the rumors going around or the marketing efforts from the festival. Either way, I don’t want to be at the apothecary. What I want is to disappear.

The sentiment is especially true when Ozan steps into the shop.

I grimace. I’m probably supposed to be nice to him now, but it’s more complicated than ever. I spent days pushing away the feelings the potion brought to the surface, but it’s impossible.

I’m thinking of his lips on mine. The feeling of his rough fingers brushing against mine is stuck, playing on repeat, and I can’t turn it off. It’s all so overwhelming.

Being in the same room as him, breathing shared air… his presence engulfs me. My heart threatens to break free from my chest. My hands ball into fists as I fight the urge to touch him.

“Aw…” Ozan leans against my counter. “Don’t look like that.”

He’s so easygoing, which has always annoyed me, but now it’s infuriating. Our kiss changed my life; it transformed how my mind is wired. Did it mean nothing to him?

“Like what?” I ask.

“Like I’m the last person you want to see.”

“You are.” My heart picks up speed, a sign I’m lying.

His long, thick fingers drum against my countertop. He’s wearing rings—one with an emerald, one with a ruby. Thankfully, there is not a wedding band in sight.

I shake my head, lifting my gaze to meet his. It takes me a moment to notice Ozan is…a little off. His hair is messy, his expression looks frazzled, and his shirt has a dark stain.

“What happened to you?” I ask.

He glowers. “Well… you wanted to pay me back, didn’t you?”

“I think we’re past that.”

“Maybe.” He sighs. “I still need your help.”

Having him come to me for help is a change of pace. I like it.

“Of course, you do.” I smile smugly. “What do you need help with?”

“I had a fucking potion spill,” he grumbles. “And before you laugh, it’s not funny. It’s eating through my floorboards as we speak. Can you close up and come over, or am I out of luck?”

My eyes widen.

This is the second potion spill in his shop, and unlike the last one, it sounds like cold water won’t cut it.

I wasn’t taking the situation seriously, but I am now. Depending on the strength of this potion, this can be a real problem. I’ve seen explosions, fires, and more. Despite our petty feuds, I want to help him avoid setting the town on fire.

“You should have started with that!” I blurt. “You need a neutralizer potion!”

“A what?”

I formulated a potion for situations like these, but there’s no time to explain that. I bend low, grab the spray bottle from the cupboard, and sprint out of the shop.

“You didn’t close up!” he calls.

“Maple is in the office!”

But I don’t bother calling out to her, and I don’t look back.

I should be happy. I was upset about his apothecary opening, but now? There’s a chance of it burning to a crisp. Losing the competition would be a good thing, but my stomach twists.

I’m out of breath as we breeze through the empty shop. “Where is it?”

“In the back.”

He guides me there. Ozan has seen every inch of my shop, but I’ve never been back here.

His back is more extensive than ours. He has crates and crates of supplies—which may be the problem. I doubt he’s storing his potions properly.

There’s already a hole the size of a large cat in the middle of the floor.

“You’re lucky Evren didn’t fall into this.” I spray the neutralizer on it, and the floor stops eating itself. My heart keeps hammering.

“He’s upstairs. Don’t worry.”

“This is hideous,” I say. “You’re going to have to patch up the floor. There’s no way around it.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Juni⁠—”

I turn to face him with a glare. “How did this happen?”

“A spill.”

“Was it your cat again?”

He grimaces. “Does it make me sound better if it is?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Fine. It was me.”

“You had better be more careful.” I step closer. “Potions are serious magic. I know they aren’t the same as your rituals and magic words, but you can get hurt and⁠—”

“Juniper.” He places his hands on my shoulder. The weight grounds me. “I know. Thank you. This won’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” I say, “because I am teaching you how to store your potions properly. There’s nothing you can say to stop me.”

“Really?” A smile spreads onto his face. “You’re willing to do all that for little ol’ me?”

I nod. “Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die.”

“How sweet.” He touches his chest. “You know the way to a man’s heart.”

I turn away so he can’t see me smile. “Show me where you store your potions long term.”

As expected, he leads me to a wooden chest. I push it open.

“This won’t do.” I click my tongue.

“Why not?”

“Because, as you saw, potions eat through wood. It needs to be gold in case a bottle breaks.”

“You want me to buy a gold chest? Real, solid gold?”

“Yes.” I lift a brow. “It’s a business expense—and a necessary one if you’re going to sell potions.”

“There isn’t a charm for that?”

“Not a foolproof one, and not one for long-term use. Magic against magic is a mess. You know that.”

“Fine. How should I store them when they’re on display?”

I walk back to the shop, looking at his display case.

“Behind glass like this is fine for the daytime,” I say. “But make sure you put them back in the gold chest at night. Just in case.”

“I cannot believe you have a gold chest.”

“You better believe it. It’s been in my family for centuries.” I lean against the countertop.

The frazzled look he wore before is replaced with ease and comfort.

“What about pewter?” he asks. “That’s the stuff cauldrons are made of, right? Why doesn’t that work?”

“This is about long-term use. If you want something you can store a potion in for months and years, you must go with gold.”

“And what about glass⁠—”

“Let me stop you there. Gold.”

“But they’re stored in glass bottles⁠—”

“The gold chest is in case a bottle breaks. Accidents happen.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m starting to think you’re sabotaging me. Are you sure you don’t just want to put me in the hole a couple thousand bucks?”

“If I wanted to sabotage you, I wouldn’t have come over.” I smile sweetly. “And I wouldn’t tell you about the gold chests. If you think this is bad, imagine multiple potions spilling and mingling together.”

I’ve never experienced it, thanks to my mother’s severe warnings.

“Good point.” He smiles softly. “I guess it’s kind of sweet… you caring about keeping me alive and all that.”

“Stop. It’s not…”

Our eyes meet, and warmth blossoms in my face and chest. With the threat of a burning town no longer hanging over our heads, my desire for him returns.

I look down.

He steps forward. I don’t notice how close he is until his finger is on my chin, lifting until I’m forced to look at him.

My chest heaves with each breath.

“I appreciate this,” he says. “More than you know. Running this shop alone is⁠—”

“It’s hard.”

“It is.”

My expression softens. “Oz, I…”

“What is it?” His hand moves to rest on the side of my neck.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About what?” He smirks.

“You know what.”

“I do know.”

When I think he’s going to make me spell it out for him, he leans in.

His mouth finds mine, and there’s no question this time. There’s no tenderness. He kisses me hard. His fingers splay across my neck, resting there, never applying pressure, but…

My mind swims with thoughts. It’s too close to my fantasies of his powerful fingers pressing against my neck. I clench my thighs together.

His lips part, and this time, I’m the one accepting the invitation. My tongue greedily delves into his mouth, hungry for a taste of him.

A grunt flows from his lips to mine. I let out a gasp as he grabs my thighs and lifts me with ease, placing me on the countertop. It’s too easy to lose myself with him, forgetting the large window revealing us to the world.

He pulls away. Our breaths are ragged. My eyes are still closed in a feeble attempt to avoid his gaze.

A soft ping hits my ears. My lids flicker open. Through a fluttering haze, I realize he’s taking off his rings.

He takes each off slowly, placing them on the countertop beside me.

“I thought of a way to thank you,” he murmurs.

“D—did you?”

He nods. I don’t dare break his gaze. His hand moves to my thigh again, but this time, it slips underneath my dark dress. He cups my heat in his large hand.

Ozan hardly touches me—there’s still fabric in the way—but he applies the slightest pressure, and I melt.

His eyes darken.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“About what?” If I’m supposed to know what he’s talking about. I don’t. My mind goes blank.

“My plan.” He nuzzles his nose against mine and chuckles under his breath. “Can I take care of you, Juni?”

My chest flutters. I nod, incapable of finding the words.

“Let me hear it.” He touches me with more pressure, his fingers rubbing against my underwear. “What’s your answer? Yes, or no?”

I gasp. “Yes!”

His lips are on mine again, biting and bruising as his fingers work circles around me. I throb under his firm touch.

This is too much. I don’t need him to thank me like this—but oh, how I want it. I’m too weak to tell him he can stop, and how he looks at me says he doesn’t want to. His eyes never tear from mine, locked on as he pushes my underwear to the side.

“You’re soaking,” he says. “Why is that?”

“You know why.” My hands press against the wooden countertop, and I lean my weight onto them. “Don’t make me say it.”

His large frame blocks anyone from seeing me, but someone could walk in. The thought is thrilling.

“I want to hear it.” The hand around my throat squeezes tighter. “Is it for me?”

“Yes.” Gods, he’s still so frustrating. I lean forward and nip at his lower lip. “I want you, Ozan. I’m wet for you.”

It would hurt my ego if he weren’t making me feel good.

His finger plunges into my core—a single finger, and it’s already so thick. Pressure coils in my belly.

“Do you like when I do this?” He squeezes my neck again. “Do you want me to choke you?”

My heart races. “Yes.”

“Fuck.” He pumps his finger into me, and his thumb brushes against my clit. “You’re so good. I never knew you would feel this good—this wet, this soft. I never knew you would let me touch you like this.”

I didn’t think I would… and I cannot believe we fit so well together. We do. It’s as if he knows my body already.

He adds another finger, and I moan, quivering under his touch. 

His lips find my neck, pressing soft kisses as he pumps his fingers into me. Each thrust creates electricity, urging me closer to the edge. I tilt my head back, and my moans grow louder.

Desire threatens to burst from me like magic of its own. Ozan manages to unravel me with his fingers alone, and I become a quivering, shaking, whining mess.

“That’s right,” he says. “Let me feel you. Let me hear you.”

I should stifle the sounds, but I don’t. I let him hear me as I twitch and moan beneath his touch. He presses soft kisses to the side of my neck.

I blink up at the ceiling. He slowly pulls away, fixing me with a cautious but lustful gaze.

“How was that?” he asks softly. “Was that good for you?”

I blush from head to toe. “Oh, yes. It was… more thanks than I deserved.”

“Yeah?”

I nod, smiling sheepishly.

“I disagree.” He wets his lips. “I think you deserve more.”

Standing above me, Ozan looks like a god. His rugged features, chiseled jawline, and the depth of his eyes take me in. He’s wrong; this pleasure is more than I deserve, but… I’m allowed to be selfish. Just this once.

My fingers graze over his crotch. I let out a soft gasp, surprised to find him rock hard already. My lips pop open.

Ozan’s rough fingers are on my hand in a heartbeat, stopping me from going further.

He’s rejecting me, and that’s within his right. I’ll accept it gracefully, yet my heart plummets with a realization.

This truly was a way of repaying his debt, and it wasn’t for me. It was more.

“I need to close the shop,” he says. “Go upstairs and wait for me.”

Hope returns.

I’m a mess. He has me all over the place—emotionally. One moment, I’m riddled with anxiety and sure he doesn’t want me. The next, I’m soaring.

“Okay.” My voice trembles. “I’ll wait upstairs.”

OZAN

Juniper is surprisingly obedient. How she nods and scurries up to my studio apartment makes my pants tighter. I watch her from behind as she disappears, unleashing a heavy sigh only once she’s gone.

Someone could have walked in on us. I should know better. My reputation in Starbrook would have been destroyed.

I’m willing to do crazy things for Juniper. I would assume she was trying to get the shop shut down, but… she’s been different lately. So have I. We’ve been helping each other out instead of competing.

My hands shake as I stomp up the stairs, and butterflies flap in my stomach. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous about tangling with someone, but…

It’s been a while. Juniper is difficult to please—or so I would have assumed. The assumption was wrong. She unraveled under my fingers so fast.

“It’s me!” I call into the studio apartment as I step inside.

The words are meant to be a warning, but it seems she doesn’t need one. Juniper is fully nude in the middle of my kitchen.

My jaw drops. I’m already hard from touching her, but as my eyes wander down her abundant body, my pants are uncomfortably tight.

Her belly is round and soft, as are her thick, creamy thighs. Even the plushness of her upper arms is enticing. Her nipples are stiff, pink peaks in the center of large, round breasts. I want to taste them and feel how she squirms beneath me when I do.

My eyes draw to the curve of her waist, down to her wide hips.

Finally, I meet her eyes. Behind her confidence, there’s a waver.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

I’ve never seen her so unsure of herself. The blush on her face spreads from her cheeks to her chest, and I sigh softly.

“It’s too much,” she says, shaking her head.

“No, no. Never too much.” I touch the front of my pants, absentmindedly rubbing myself as I step closer. My pleasure coils in me, and I know I’ll need release soon. “You look… fuck, you look so good.”

I want to call her beautiful, but I’m unsure if she wants to hear it. Her being here at all is surprising. I can’t believe she’s blessing me with the vision of her perfect body.

Her delicate fingers grip my wrist. She moves my hand away from my bulge.

“This is for me,” she says, grabbing me through my pants. “Mine.”

I groan, rolling my eyes. She doesn’t mean it like I want her to. Juniper doesn’t want any part of me to be hers. It doesn’t matter. I can’t convince my body otherwise.

“All yours,” I mumble.

She undoes my buttons with skillful fingers, and I rip off my shirt. She’s naked. I want her to be comfortable. Getting undressed with her should do the trick.

Juniper doesn’t seem to care about anything but my hard cock. She pushes down my pants to reveal it, her eyes glued there. I don’t think I have anything to be insecure about—but I’ve been with Vanessa for so long… and she wandered off to someone else.

She was the first and last person to see me like this. I bury my insecurities.

Her hungry eyes flicker to meet mine. She swallows thickly, and I watch the way her throat moves. I hold her neck again, brushing my thumb against the middle.

She wraps her hand around my length. Her thumb swipes against the head of my cock, wetting her finger with pre-cum.

“You’re so big,” she whispers.

Heat rises. I don’t know what to say, but the words help put my worries at ease.

My lips part. She lifts her thumb and licks it as if she’s savoring the slightest taste of me. Her pink tongue darts out to swipe against her thumb, and I’m in awe, my eyes darkening at the sight.

I tighten the hand around her throat, and she lets out a moan.

There’s so much I want to do with her. I want her on her knees, begging for me. I want her from behind. I want to stare into her ocean eyes while I fuck her into oblivion…

But I don’t know how long I’ll last if she lets me shove my cock down her pretty throat right now.

With my hand still around her neck, I guide her through the small apartment. There’s a couch, a kitchen island with stools, and a bed. We navigate around the furniture to get to where I want her.

“I need you in my bed.”

“Oh!” She makes a soft sound of surprise as she falls into my king-sized bed. Her long hair splays out among my sage sheets. Juniper is the picture of beauty. The sight of her alone has me throbbing with need.

“I’ll make you beg the gods for mercy.” Kneeling on the floor, I grip her thighs and pull her to the edge of the bed.

“Oz…”

Without responding, I bury my face between her thighs and inhale her sweet scent. I bite at her thigh, savoring the sound of her gasp. Her graceful fingers grasp the sheets.

“I thought you were done paying me back…?” she breathes.

“I’m never done.” This is only the start. I’ll do this as long as she lets me. I lick a long stripe, lapping up every bit of arousal she’s left for me. She’s soaked. Each taste is sweeter and wetter than the last. My eyes flicker up, watching the lust painted on her perfect, round face. “I want to live here. Let me die between your thighs.”

Her back arches as I lick the same spot, desperate to make her come again. My cock is still hard, and I take it in my hand, stroking myself as I lap her up.

She is lush. Each sound she makes is sensual, throaty, and raspy. To push her to the edge is nearly enough to get me off.

I won’t. I need to feel her around me. It’s the only chance I have.

“Gods. Goddess. Please.” Her last cries come out as I knew they would. Her thick thighs wrap around my head to keep me in place.

I won’t move. I lick and suck until she releases her firm grip. Juniper writhes on my bed, gripping the sheets, as I tower above her.

She watches through heavy lids as I stroke myself. My eyes wander over her body. She’s on display for me, a feast, and I want to try it all. Uselessly, she motions with her fingers, reaching to me. Juniper wants to take me in her velvet touch, but I won’t let her.

She’s given me everything I need. I’m hard without a single touch from her, and all I want is to feel her warm, wet pussy around me.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget your name.” I move onto the bed and kneel between her legs.

“Yes,” she whines.

I rub the head of my cock through her arousal, sighing as she coats my leaking, needy head.

“Do you want me to turn around?” she asks.

The question comes out so earnest—it’s nearly innocent. It’s tempting. I want to worship her ass and take her from behind, but…

Not yet.

“No,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her plush lips. “I’m going to watch your pretty face as you take my every inch. I want to see the way your pussy sheaths me and how your face twists when I fill you. Is that what you want?”

She’s blushing again. She nods, and her eyes soften.

I line myself up with her entrance, and her wet pussy is already trying to swallow me. So ready for me, wet and clenching around nothing. The only sound that comes from her is a soft, needy whine.

I’ve never heard her sound like that before.

Juniper wants me. She’s looking at me with hunger; her back arches, and her manicured nails dig into my shoulders.

She’s so soft. I hold on to a thick thigh, hitching it up as I sink into her warm, wet pussy. Her mouth opens, and her head flops back as she unleashes a loud moan.

“That’s right,” I say. “No one can hear you, baby. Let me know how good it feels.”

“Ozan…”

My name is a sound of desire now. It sounds prettier than even her moans. I grunt, holding back from finishing too soon. I’m not entirely inside her yet. I want to go slow, to make her whine and beg…

My body doesn’t want that. It wants to fuck her hard, to find release. It’s been so long.

“That’s right.” I push another inch, and she lets out a cry. “Say my name. Whose pussy is this?”

She glares, but it’s more playful than I’m used to. There’s still a look of lust behind her pretty eyes.

“It’s yours, Ozan. Take it.” She whimpers as I give her another inch. “Stop holding back.”

Her thighs open wider, and she bucks against me, her nails digging into my back hard enough to leave marks. I grunt. My eyes threaten to flicker shut.

“I don’t know how long I’ll last,” I say.

I don’t dare to move. My hand slides from her thigh to her throat, squeezing as I slowly rotate my hips.

She cries out again. Her pussy clenches around me with each rotation, and I know it won’t be long for her, either.

I can make her come again. I must.

“You feel like heaven,” I say. “You’re a gift from the gods.”

I pull out—and give her a brutal thrust, earning another moan.

“More,” she whimpers.

Squeezing her neck tighter, I find my pace, thrusting into her. I lean in to kiss her on the mouth, pushing my tongue in to taste her. My mouth swallows each of her moans.

When her soft hand moves to my balls, I know it’s over.

I’m gone. Electricity takes me. I can’t hold back, and she doesn’t want me to.

She cradles my sac, and I fuck into her hard, punishing, forgetting myself. Her eyes flicker open, locking onto mine. I can’t look away. Her moans become screams, and the sound makes my abdomen flex.

“Close,” I mutter.

“More,” she says again.

“Yes.”

I let out a few final groans. My hips sputter as her pussy clenches around me—hard, tight, too much—and I spill into her. She goes limp beneath me. The sounds of our desire mingle together, and my mouth is on hers again, claiming her with a bruising kiss.

Mine.

JUNIPER

His apartment is acceptable. It’s nicer than most single men I’ve visited, and while it’s only a fraction of the size of our family home, there’s something cozy about the little studio. I can appreciate it.

It was good enough for me to get naked in his bed. I’m still there, curled under the covers as he shuffles around the little kitchen.

I should go home. My sisters will worry about me if I don’t.

Me staying out all night is unheard of… but the sun sets before I know it, and I’m comfortable in his bed. He gives me a soft blanket to wrap around myself. I feel like I’m on a cloud. I’m unsure I can move, even though I know I should.

The view isn’t bad, either. The apartment is one room, making it too easy to watch him as he works. He stands with his back to me in the kitchen, and his muscles move as he slices something. Freckles are splattered across his warm skin, even in the middle of autumn.

How did I never notice the freckles?

I force myself to tear my gaze away when he joins me in bed. He sets a plate of snacks between us. Cut-up apples, a dipping container of caramel, a handful of pomegranate seeds, and chocolate. I’ve had worse post-sex offerings.

Pomegranates are sensual, and he knows it—especially for a witch who works with Persephone. A witch like me.

“Is this dark chocolate?” I pick up a square.

“Of course.” His eyes crinkle. “Only the best for you.”

I roll my eyes and pop the piece of chocolate into my mouth. It melts, and I do, too, leaning back into the abundance of pillows.

His eyes are still on me. They rake over my bare shoulders and move down to where my breasts disappear under the blanket. The way he watches me makes me feel like a goddess.

A thrill runs up my spine, and I force myself to ignore it. Whatever I feel for him must be over now. Tonight needs to be enough.

“I doubt this is your best.” I turn my head away, fixated on the furniture in his room.

Notably, there’s an old rocking chair near the window. That’s safer to look at than how his cheeks dimple and how the freckles are painted across his strong nose.

“You’re right,” he says. “I can do a lot better. Stick around and see for yourself.”

I pick up a pomegranate seed and pop it into my mouth. It bursts, and I pluck up another one, working my way around my response.

My eyes move to his. “I’m going to leave once I can feel my legs.”

His smile turns into a frown, lines appearing between his brows. “Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Because”—he lifts a piece of chocolate to my mouth, leaning closer—“I want you to stay. Please, baby. Stay.”

Baby. My cheeks turn hot. I shouldn’t like Ozan calling me baby, but… gods, I do.

I accept the piece of chocolate, letting my lips brush against his fingers. “I shouldn’t.”

“You should.” He turns away and lifts a goblet from his bedside table. “I brought you a potion and everything.”

Right. To make sure I don’t get pregnant. I recognize the color and sheen. It’s a commonly known birth control potion used by witches and many others. Most witches keep some on hand.

I snort. “Don’t tell me you brewed it yourself.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then I’ll take it.” I take the goblet from him and peer into the sparkling blue liquid. It looks correctly made. I lift the goblet to my lips and drain it.

Silence passes.

“Thank you,” I murmur, incapable of meeting his eye.

I can’t remember the last time I had someone to bring me food and drink—to bring me a potion instead of asking me to brew it. I bite at the inside of my cheek. Telling him how nice this feels, how new it is… I can’t do that.

But I can thank him, and when he looks at me through dark eyes, I think he may be reading between the lines.

“Don’t thank me,” he says. “Stay.”

Why shouldn’t I? I can stay. It doesn’t mean I’m giving him anything—not my heart or another night. I’m here to enjoy his bed and his snacks. Nothing else.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Chapter 18

Juniper

It felt natural to collapse in his bed the evening before, but when the sun shines, I realize I’ve overstayed my welcome. It isn’t Ozan who makes me feel this way. He’s still snoozing next to me when I rouse, and he was welcoming the night before.

My back presses to his chest now, with his arm draped over me. His fingers dig into my plush hips, and he mumbles something under his breath.

I need to leave, but the idea of staying is tempting. Our night was the most fun I’ve had in years. It doesn’t matter. I have to go.

There’s enough time to run home and change before work. Opening the shop is supposed to be my responsibility. I can’t get caught up in nights like this, especially not with him, and⁠—

Of course, my sisters all know. Laurel will ask me about it once I see her, and Maple will congratulate me with a cake. I would rather disappear than face either of them.

The shop should be a pleasant distraction, but it’s not. It’s been empty all morning, and no matter how much marketing Laurel and I do, people don't want to stick around. We have a few hundred followers on social media, but…

It isn’t enough.

I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It feels like the answer is everything. At this point, what am I doing right?

The actual issue is that I don’t care. I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s on my mind when I’m sweeping, brewing, and counting cash. It would be in character for Ozan to visit me, but he doesn’t.

Maybe that’s for the best. I need a second to fall apart. I can only let so much pile up before I lose it, and that’s precisely what is happening on this blustery afternoon.

I’m supposed to be alone. This should be a safe place to cry.

“Juniper?” A voice calls through the shop.

It’s Maple. Gods, what is she doing here?

My little sister can’t see me like this. I rush to hide the tissues under the desk and wipe my eyes on the back of my hands.

“In here!” I call.

“Afternoon!” Her shoes click against the wooden floor as she enters. She’s still dressed in her work outfit.

My mood takes another tumble.

Some people have actual problems. Maple is a hard worker. She has an asshole boss and a high-stress job. There’s no way she wants to listen to me whine, even if she’s too nice to say it to my face.

“How was work?” My voice sounds pathetic and broken, even to my ears.

Her smile disappears. She rushes to my side, taking my icy hands in hers. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Something had to happen.”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together. “It’s nothing.”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t like that answer.” She moves onto her knees to look up at me. “You can’t keep suffering in silence. You’re going to explode like an old potion bottle.”

Gods. She’s right. Even now, I can feel it. There’s a pressure in me longing for escape. I shake from head to toe.

“It’s everything,” I say. “Everything is wrong.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. The shop is a failure. My life is a failure.”

“It takes years for a business to come together. You know that.”

On a realistic level, I do know. Convincing myself it’s true is more challenging than simply knowing.

“That’s not the problem.” Fresh tears stream down my face. “I’m not happy here, May. I don’t love running this shop. It feels like any other job—like I’m waiting tables again. I thought I was going to love this.”

“Oh, honey…”

“I should love being my own boss. That’s the problem. I’m not the boss. I’m still being bossed around by… by…”

“By her.”

She’s the only one who understands.

I nod feebly. “I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s okay.”

“It isn’t. It’s not okay anymore.”

“The first step is done. You already know something needs to change. Now, we can decide what and how.”

“But this is Mom’s shop. I can’t start making big changes.”

“No. It’s yours now.” Maple peers into my eyes with sincerity. “Mom gave it to you when she could have sold it or given it to someone else. She could have done anything.”

“There was no time for her to figure it out. She died.”

“That’s not true. You know Mom wanted you to run it.”

“But what if I don’t want to?” I shake my head.

“We’ll figure it out together.” She stands up, and my hands slip out of hers. “Is this all that’s upsetting you? You can tell me anything.”

“No. Nothing happened, but my entire life has descended into the deepest pit of hell. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“We’ll take care of it all, and we’ll do it together.”

I look down at my boots. “I had sex with Ozan.”

The confession may seem like it’s coming out of nowhere, but it’s another thing adding to the strangeness of my life. I don’t want to like him, but I do. Maple will find out eventually, considering how the town likes to gossip.

She already suspects something after the harvest festival.

“Why are you crying over that, sweetie?” Her eyes narrow. “Did he hurt you?”

“No! No, he was a perfect gentleman.”

“Ah…was he, uh…really bad?” She grimaces.

“Maple! No!” I bark out a laugh. “It was—god, it was amazing. He was good. It was the best night I’ve had in years. No one has ever made me…” I press my lips together, stopping myself from sharing too much information. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. Wrong isn’t the right word.”

I sniffle.

“Do you like him?” she asks.

“No. Never.” My jaw tenses. I’m lying to my sister’s face. “If I ever claim I like that man, there’s probably an… imposter situation.”

“Then don’t let him be one of your problems!” She grins. “You’re allowed to have fun, Juni. Not everything has to be so serious.”

It was more than a fun night to me, but it can’t be for him. He’s freshly divorced. I doubt he’s looking for a serious relationship. I can’t believe I’m a rebound. It’s too embarrassing to say out loud.

“You’re right,” I say. “Forget about it. I just needed to tell someone.”

“I’m glad you told me. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I do.” I stand up and brush off my skirt. “Let’s have a family meeting tonight. We can figure out what to do next.”

“We don’t need to rush into it.”

“I need to,” I say. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. Maybe this will help.”

“We can give it a try. Anything to make you feel better.”

We all meet at the shop again, but it doesn’t feel the same this time. The first time we met here, we had something to be excited about. This time, I’m going to disappoint them.

I disappoint everyone.

“What’s up? Why am I here?” Laurel pushes her sunglasses on her head and settles onto the red rug next to Rowan.

I exhale slowly. “We need to change something about the shop.”

I’m not giving up on it—not yet. That would be the easy way out, and my life has never been about taking the simple path.

I will do everything to make sure this place comes together. I’ll make changes, big or small, until I feel I’m pursuing my dreams.

“We haven’t been open very long,” Rowan says. “A few weeks isn’t enough time to know if our pricing and marketing is working.”

“It isn’t about that,” I say.

Maple pats my knee.

“Then what is it?” Laurel pouts. “I’m still having fun.”

“I’m… not.” I deflate.

My sisters are frowning at me, and I want to make it stop. They shouldn’t look at me with such worry. It’s my job to take care of them.

“What’s wrong?” Rowan moves onto her knees. She looks like she’s going to stand up, as if she can tackle the problem herself.

“I thought running the shop would make me happy,” I say, “but it doesn’t. I don’t know if anything ever will.”

“Something will,” Laurel says. “Do you want my advice?”

“No.” I smile sadly, knowing she’s going to give it anyway.

“You’re trying too hard.” Laurel lifts her head higher. “The tarot reading said you’re supposed to focus on the emotions. Have you tried… having fun?”

As if I know how to do that. I could argue with her about the reading, but I don’t have the energy.

“You’re right.” I shrug. “I can try that.”

But it’s not a solution, and we know it.

The meeting ends, and I’m as confused as I was before.

Chapter 19

Ozan

Vanessa shouldn’t be in my shop, and she definitely shouldn’t be here alone.

I’m still processing my night with Juniper. That’s what I want to focus on.

It was my first time with someone else, and it was perfect… until I woke up alone. I haven’t had the heart to confront her about it.

It was different when Juniper was the one pursuing me and claiming she hated me. It’s only been a day, but I can’t fight the feeling that she wants nothing to do with me. She doesn’t come to the shop, she doesn’t text, she doesn’t give me anything.

If Juniper wants to be left alone, I can do that. It’s easier.

Vanessa’s reappearance reminds me why I don’t want to open up to love again.

“Why are you still here?” I ask.

“What? Maine is commonly known as vacationland. Am I not allowed to take a vacation?”

I would rather her not vacation in my home state, but what can I do about it?

“No one calls it that.” I grunt and move back behind the counter. “Where’s Otis?”

“He’s not here,” she says.

“Then why are you?”

Her expression softens. “I want to talk to you. I didn’t realize that wasn’t allowed.”

“Go ahead. Talk.”

I have nothing to say to her. Vanessa should already have closure around our relationship. She was the one who left me.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” The words come out so soft I almost don’t hear them.

I wish I didn’t have to. Some people may hope for their ex to return and confess their love, but I’m not one of them. I’m not even the type to get pleasure from rubbing it in her face or rejecting her.

This is just uncomfortable.

My eyes narrow. “What did you say?” I hope I’m hearing her wrong.

“I said I’ve been thinking about us.”

“What about us?”

She takes a step closer. “Where did we go wrong?”

I’ve been waiting for Vanessa’s apology for a year. It never comes, and I don’t expect this to be any different.

“You’re joking.” I cross my arms.

Maybe she expects me to say something more, but I don’t. I let the awkward silence permeate the tiny space and pray someone comes to interrupt. I would rather mope about Juniper leaving than stay in this room with Vanessa for another second.

“I should have given us another chance,” she says. “I can’t believe I gave up on you so easily.”

I blink. “What?”

“I found Otis because you were always working—but I can tell you’re different now.”

“I’m not.” I inhale through my teeth. “I’m still working a lot. Too bad.”

“This is different. You’re doing something you care about. Before, you were working for a company you didn’t even support. You were in a dreadful mood every time we were together. Now…”

I shake my head. I cannot believe she’s trying to blame me for our failed marriage. “Now, I’m in an even worse mood when we’re together.”

“No. You’ve changed.” She scowls. “I’ve changed. We can make it work this time.”

I look up at the ceiling. Which deity is testing me?

“What about Otis?” I ask.

“I never cared about Otis. He was a fun distraction, but you…you’re my husband.”

“I’m not. Not anymore.”

It’s too late. If there was a chance of us repairing our relationship, it’s long gone. It goes further than cheating. Vanessa never wanted to try to work through our problems. She didn’t say any of this until we signed the divorce papers; now it’s too late.

There’s another reason she’s here. Juniper comes to mind, and I know this is jealousy or possessiveness. I don’t want Vanessa to feel those things for me. Not anymore.

Juniper is also why I can’t fathom listening to Vanessa. Going back to my ex may not hurt her, but I won’t risk doing anything that may.

“Give me another chance,” she says. “Please?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

She winces. “You don’t love me anymore?”

I swallow thickly. “No. I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“You’re hurt, but we can talk it through⁠—”

“I can’t forgive you. I already moved on, and you moved on. It’s over. I live in a completely different state now.”

“You can open a new shop in Boston.”

“Don’t you see?” I finally let out the sigh I’ve been holding back. “I came this far to get away from you.”

She flinches.

“I don’t want to go back to Boston, and I don’t want to open a new shop. I’m not happy here because I’ve changed like you keep saying. Believe it or not, I’m still the same person. I’m happy here because I’m happy—or trying to be.”

“Why couldn’t you try to be happy with me?”

“I don’t know.” I lift my shoulders. “I would apologize, but you cheated on me with my best friend. I don’t think we can compare our mistakes.”

Her lips twist, and she looks away. “Then there’s no chance for us?”

“No.” I pause. “It’s too late. My heart belongs to someone else.”

“I knew it.”

“And I knew you were watching.”

“How long have you two been a thing?” Her attention is back on me, as sharp as a knife. “It seems like you have history.”

“It’s nothing. She doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You’re giving me up for someone who doesn’t want you?”

I bark out a laugh. “Shit. I guess I am.”

“I don’t understand it, but… I guess I don’t have to.” She lifts her shoulders. “This is goodbye—for real this time.”

“It is,” I say. “Get back to Boston safely—and clear things up with Otis, would you?”

My old friend hurt me more than Vanessa, but that doesn’t mean I want him being strung around by her.

She shakes her head and turns away from me. “You’re something else.”

“Thank you.”

Vanessa leaves, and my heart finally settles. She passes a customer on the way out. While I should probably have a moment alone, I welcome the distraction… until I realize who it is.

JUNIPER

I was worried about being a rebound, but I wasn’t even considering this. Vanessa passes me on the way out. I expect her to do something—glare, give me a dirty look, anything. She doesn’t even glance at me as she scurries from the shop.

It’s too late to turn around. I’m standing at the entrance to his shop, and he’s looking right at me. My hands hang limply by my sides.

Gods, am I making a mistake?

The talk with my sisters didn’t go badly, but it didn’t go well. I am more lost than before, and feeling lost leads me here. I need another taste of him. I was so sure about it, but seeing Vanessa…

Maybe he doesn’t want to see me again.

Ozan doesn’t even smile. He looks at me with wide eyes. It’s as if I’m the last person he expects to see. Maybe I’ve been reading him wrong. Perhaps our night together wasn’t good for him.

“Hey!” He approaches with tentative steps.

I press my lips together for a moment, but it does nothing to keep me from making a fool of myself. “What was she doing here?”

“Nothing.” His brows furrow. “We were just talking.”

“Really?”

Finally, he smiles a crooked smile. His grin twists my stomach into knots and makes my chest flutter.

“Yeah, really.” He takes another step closer. “Are you jealous, Juni?”

“No!” I lift my chin stubbornly.

“Oh, I think you are.”

“I’m most certainly not.” I narrow my eyes. “Do I have a reason to be?”

Of course, I don’t. I don’t even have a right to be. I was the one who left in the morning. Ozan and I are nothing… and I have little more to offer. There’s too much on my plate. I have sisters to care for, a shop to run, and…

“No,” he says. “I was saying goodbye to her. For good.”

“Well…good. That’s good for you—for both of you. That level of attachment is unhealthy.”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” The world seems to go in slow motion as his hand moves closer. His rough fingers brush against my warm cheek.

I swallow nervously. “I’m not jealous.”

“What are you?”

“Relieved.” Even that feels dangerous to say.

But it’s true. My stomach finally settles, and when I exhale, I release tension from my body. He could be lying, but for some reason, I believe him. I never trust anyone, especially not men. They think with their dick, and I have no patience for that.

I’m more patient with Ozan now. I never like the feeling of someone’s dirty hands on my face, but he’s the exception to that as well.

He cradles the side of my face, and I feel like I’m home after a long day. I’m warm, and…

I shake the feeling off.

“Why are you relieved?” he murmurs.

“I don’t—I don’t know.”

But I do. He doesn’t want to be with me—he can’t after all he’s been through—but I’m not ready to let go of him yet. We can have one more night together… and another after that. That’s not possible if he and Vanessa reunite.

His gaze is usually so soft, but it hardens. “You know. Tell me.”

Talking wasn’t my intention when I came over. It was a longing to feel his lips on mine and to get on my knees for him…

I suppose I should answer his question instead.

“She was bad for you,” I say, “and I don’t like how she talked about you—and about Starbrook.”

“Ah.” His hand drops, and he steps away. “It sounds like you care about me.”

My face boils. “What? No!”

“Then why do you care if she’s bad for me? Hm?”

“Because I’m a decent person!”

“You are…” He nods as if he’s thinking over my claims. “Makes sense. Are you sure there’s nothing else?”

I glare. “Oh, I’m positive.”

I’m especially sure now that he’s returned to his old ways. Ozan is tormenting me again, and it’s different this time. Instead of frustrating me, he’s flustering me.

“Then why are you here?” He lifts a brow.

That’s not what he should ask. He’s supposed to ask why I left in the morning. There’s no cruelty behind his words, but they catch me off guard.

Does he want me to be here? I’m starting to think he doesn’t. Talking to an ex would put anyone in a sour mood. He doesn’t want me. Not right now. Maybe he never will again.

Oh, why do I care?

“You’re right.” I let out a nervous laugh and turn around. “This was a mistake.”

“Juni!”

I don’t stay to find out why he’s calling after me. He’s right to ask. Why am I here?

And why is my heart still pounding long after I leave?

Chapter 20

Juniper

I haven’t seen Ozan in a week. Halloween comes and goes, and the buzz of our shop dies shortly after. Everyone is at his apothecary—and why shouldn’t they be? I would rather be over there with them.

Where he is, it’s lively and warm. He may have fixed the heating, but our shop feels colder by the day.

Even when I’m busy with customers and brewing potions, it doesn’t feel worth it. I sit inside all day. The shop leaks money, and we keep putting more into it. The home repairs are stacking up. The funds our mother left may not cover the fees.

I could sit around and curse her name. I can shout at her ghost if I want to. Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like she’ll hear it. She’s been gone for a year now without a sign.

Everyone keeps telling me I’ll feel her spirit, and I never do.

It’s pouring outside. The shop is even slower when it rains. I close up in the dark, alone. I do everything alone. I have my sisters, but as the days pass, I realize they don’t want to be here anymore than I do. Laurel enjoys her tarot readings, but the rest of us…

We’re lost. I’m supposed to be the one who finds our way, but I can’t.

Rainwater splashes against my feet and collects in my hair as I journey home. But I’m not going home at all. I don’t realize it at first, but my body is moving in another direction entirely. I can’t seem to stop myself.

I’m going to see him.

Entering through the front door isn’t an option—his shop is closed, quiet, and dark. I sneak around the back instead, climbing the rickety stairs until I arrive at the little studio apartment at the top.

Why am I here?

Before I overthink it, I bang a heavy fist against Ozan’s door.

He may not answer, and that is probably a good thing. I should run away. It’s not too late to take it back.

My feet are planted.

He opens the door before I can uproot myself. He leans against the doorway, crossing his arms, looking me up and down.

I’m soaked and shivering. The rain hasn’t been kind to me, and I haven’t cared enough to do anything about it. My clothes cling to my frame, my hair is a mess of wet frizz, and I can’t find it in myself to care.

How can I worry about anything when he’s standing here looking like a god?

No shirt, sweatpants, and I realize I didn’t pay him enough attention to him the last time we were together. Thank goddess, I’m back. My gaze wanders over the abundance of hair on his chest and down his belly. It disappears into his pants…

There’s a layer of softness around him, but he is made of firm muscle underneath it. He’s tall enough that he needs to duck on the way inside.

He gestures for me to follow, and I do.

Electricity pulses through me. Does he feel it? Neither of us speaks. We don’t need to.

He turns to face me.

I inhale, preparing to say something. The words never come. Tension breaks. He’s closer, his arms around my waist, and I fling myself at him with full force.

His powerful hands grip my ass, pulling my body flush against his. Our mouths touch, a tangle of lips and tongues. Moans pass between us instead of words. I push against his chest, and we stumble through the little apartment.

“Missed you.” His lips brush against mine.

With the heat rising through my frozen body, I can’t find it in myself to overthink his words… or what I say next.

“Need you.” I press a palm firmly against his crotch.

He pushes down my long skirt with ease. The sooner I can be out of my wet clothes, the better.

I pull away long enough to rip my top over my head, leaving me in my lingerie. If it wasn’t clear why I was here before, it is now. My black underthings are made of lace around the cups and down the sides, with garters to match.

“Gods…” His fingers flex. “Why are you torturing me?”

“I’m not.” My eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes. “I want you. There’s no torture. You can have me as you please.”

“You didn’t have to go through all this to have me.”

“I know.” I smile slyly and rake my nails down his muscular chest. “It was too easy to drive you wild last time. I want to see how well I can do it—wearing this.”

His nostrils flare. His hands find my ass again, and he pulls me in until my chest is against his. Under the flimsy lace of my undergarments, my nipples are hard.

So is he.

Ozan pushes himself against my thigh, letting me feel his straining cock. He’s large—bigger than I’ve ever taken. I don’t know how I could ever want someone else after being with him.

It’s been a week, and I still remember how he filled me. He is what I need.

For the first time in days, my mind is at ease. To say his presence is calming would be a lie. He boils my blood unlike any other. Here, in this space, all I feel is lust and need. All else fades, and I find peace in the flame of desire.

“Don’t expect me to last very fucking long,” he says.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

He leads me to the couch and pulls me onto his lap, making me straddle him. Our foreheads press. Heat radiates from his body to mine. I crave more, more closeness, pressing my chest to his. As he plays with the lace on my thighs, each brush of his fingers makes me throb between my legs.

Ozan is all I can feel. His hard bulge against me just the way I need, building pressure in my core with each wiggle of my hips. We can’t stop kissing. I don’t want to. I chase his lips every time he pulls away to breathe, and he does the same to me.

It feels natural to grind myself against him, rubbing my soaking core against his hard, clothed cock. Chasing pleasure with him is a bodily instinct. I can do more. If I ask for what I want, he’ll give it to me, but this is more fun.

I press soft kisses against the scruff of his beard. Every subtle motion draws a shaky moan from him. He’s under me… hard… desperate … and whimpering. It’s the perfect reminder that some part of him yearns for me.

Just as I have been craving him.

“Juni…” His words are a warning, but I won’t take it.

I keep going. His hands are on my hips, pressing his powerful fingers into my soft flesh, hard enough to bring a sweet sting of pain. I let out a delighted gasp, and a hand lifts to my neck.

His hips meet my movements, earning another gasp from me. Pressure coils. He squeezes my neck tighter.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he says. “Is that what you’re here to do? Tease me?”

I nod wordlessly, chasing my pleasure as I grind against his hard cock.

He lifts his hips again, groaning. “How do you feel this good? I’m not even inside your pretty pussy yet.”

Not yet… but he wants me. I’m dizzy.

He releases his grip on my throat and kisses me again, hard enough to make my lips bruise and swell. The whimpers that fall from his lips are more desperate by the moment. His motions become erratic. I’m seeing stars—and I don’t realize he is until it’s too late.

It comes on fast. Pleasure rushes through me. My thighs tremble. His hands on my searing skin are the only thing holding me together.

He lets out a loud, guttural groan. “Fuck… I’m…”

For a few moments, I’m motionless, collapsed against him as I twitch and tremble. My thoughts scatter—until they come back together, and I realize…

I pull back and look at him with wide eyes.

The tips of his ears are pink.

“Did you…?”

He chuckles, pushing my hair out of my face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to end it so early.”

I made a grown man come without touching or tasting him. He doesn’t know how much power he’s given me.

A smile curls on my lips. “That is ridiculously attractive, Ozan.”

The hand in my hair isn’t so soft anymore. His fingers curl in my dark tresses, dragging my face closer to him. I’m still shaking and pulsing between my thighs.

“If you think I’m done with you,” he whispers, “you’re mistaken.”

My lips part. Only hot air comes through them.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says.

I shouldn’t be in his bed again—but the promise of still getting to feel the weight of his cock in my mouth leads me there.

It’s a lovely, warm, soft bed, and I let out a happy sigh as I settle in. I’m still in my lingerie, and he doesn’t seem to have any complaints. His fingers roam over the lace as he spoons me.

“Why are you here?” he murmurs.

It’s not what I expect him to say—even though he keeps asking it.

I turn my head, trying to look at him. He meets my gaze with a soft expression.

“Because…” I hesitate. “For the sex. It’s good sex.”

“That’s all?”

I nod.

That’s all he wants it to be—right? You don’t end a marriage and jump into something serious. I’ve never craved casual relationships, but this may be what I need now.

“Is that okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He leans in and kisses me on the nose. “Works for me.”

The act of affection feels so soft that I find myself questioning things. How casual can this be when he’s giving me butterflies?

“I still don’t like you.” I know very well that I’m lying.

With the way he watches me, he knows, too.

“We don’t have to like each other.” His hand moves between my legs, teasing me through the wet fabric. “You’re here to get off. I understand.”

The words should make me feel dirty—but they don’t, especially not with his hand on my heat. I push back against him, rubbing my ass against him.

I’m surprised to find he’s hard again, letting out a gasp.

He grinds himself into me. “I think it’s time to take these off.” He tries to push down my underwear, but I stop him, sliding from the bed.

“Wait—” He reaches out desperately.

I let out a soft laugh. With my back to him, I remove my lingerie. “I don’t want to lose these—they’re expensive.”

He growls.

Ozan is adorable when he’s impatient. I want more of it. With slow movements, I remove my top, looking over my shoulder as I slip the strap down my shoulder.

There’s an obvious tent in his pants—all for me.

“Juniper…”

“What?” I laugh softly. “You wanted me to get undressed. I’m doing as you asked.”

Why is he standing?

“You know how to take orders? Good,” he says. “Get on your knees.”

My face is hot. Ozan Demir…is talking to me…like that? I’ve never liked him—and I would still love to pretend I don’t—but even with years of disliking each other…

He never talked to me like that. Not even close. The command in his voice is entirely new. I tend to be the more snappish one, and he meets most of my comments with a laugh.

I close my eyes, trying to stay calm and collected as I finish undressing. Slowly, I move to stand in front of him. I don’t need to touch myself to know I’m wet again. I’ll do anything he asks if it means I get another touch, another feel, of him.

There’s a pillow on the floor. How sweet.

I lower myself onto it and look up at his towering form. His fingers move into my hair, curling in tightly.

“Open that mean little mouth of yours,” he says.

I do as he asks, sticking out my tongue. My knees press into the plush pillow, and I hold the back of his thighs, waiting for him to give me what I want. Ragged, shaking breaths fall from my lips.

Each moment he takes, each beat that he stares at me, anticipation grows.

Dark eyes meet mine. He pulls my hair, guiding me closer to his cock, and I fluidly move along. With a rough motion, he forces me to take it all. Every thick inch. I’m happy to do it, moaning as I swallow him up. My eyes flicker shut.

Ozan is big enough to make me gag when he hits the back of my throat. He groans and pulls my head off, but I push right back on, determined to make him feel good.

Something else blossoms alongside the determination. I want him to forget anyone who isn’t me, to be enough for him to move on.

It works. He seems to lose himself as he snaps his hips into me, filling my throat, his fingers in my hair never going slack. I breathe through my nose as he fucks my mouth despite the gagging sounds.

“That’s right,” he says. “Take my cock, baby. Just like that. Take it all. You’re doing so good.”

I can’t respond, and I don’t want to. All I want is to get him off. I move faster, my slick saliva coating his cock with abundance. He should have enough restraint for me to play with him now. He already finished once and⁠—

He pulls me off before I’m ready. I whine, squirming, and look up at him in disbelief. My mouth glistens, and a trail of spit connects me to his thick cock.

“I love it when you sound like that,” he whispers. His fingers fall from my hair. “You’re so fun to frustrate.”

“And you are very frustrating.” I glare. “I’m not done here.”

“You’re done when I say you are. Get back in bed.”

I would complain—but it sounds like I’m going to get what I need. I scramble to my feet, but he never gives me time to get in bed. He scoops me into his arms, carrying me in the bridal position.

“Ozan!” I yelp as he tosses me onto the bed. I land on my stomach.

He hovers above me, kissing my hair in a way that feels too sweet. How his hand slaps against my ass is not. I let out a moan.

“Perfect ass,” he whispers. “Pretty mouth. Do you have a single fucking flaw?”

“Yes.” I laugh breathlessly. “I’m a bitch.”

“And I love it.”

At least he doesn’t deny it. I would have to stop and argue with him if he did. It’s a title I wear proudly.

He pushes me onto my side and spoons me again—but this time, it isn’t so sweet. There are no soft touches as he thrusts into me, giving me his length all at once.

I cry loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

His hand rests on my plush stomach as he drives himself into me over and over.

When I fall asleep, he’s still inside of me.

OZAN

She’s gone in the morning. I’m not surprised anymore. This is what we are now. We’re not even friends, but gods, the benefits…

I’m convinced Juniper is a goddess of love. She is curves, beauty, and everything in one package. Her eyes capture me. Every time she looks my way, I know our deities are blessing me. For her to let me shove my cock down her throat is something else entirely.

Even though I wake up alone, I think of how her eyes look up at me. She was pleading for my cock, even without words. She wanted me.

And she still wants me. She must. Her being gone doesn’t mean it’s the end. She’ll be back. I comfort myself with the thought as I roll out of bed and amble to the shower.

There’s something more between Juniper and me, even if she isn’t willing to admit it yet. I feel it. She has to feel it, too.

Or I’m in denial. I don’t care. I’ll let her in whenever she knocks on my door.

Chapter 21

Juniper

I never understood post-coitus clarity (commonly known as post-nut clarity) until today. Today is different. Today changes everything. Today is the day I realize…

It’s time to close the apothecary—for good this time. We tried it, but it’s as if I can hear my mother’s voice in my head. She wouldn’t want us to keep doing something that isn’t making us happy. And now, I can finally admit the shop doesn’t make me happy.

This leaves me with a plethora of unanswered questions and unsolved problems. I need to find a new way to make money and pay for our newly leaking roof. I’ll worry about those things as I go.

At least I won’t be stuck on a sinking ship.

I find my sisters sitting around the breakfast table. Laurel looks at me with a sly smile, and I realize how I must appear. Not only am I returning home at an ungodsly hour, but I’m positively disheveled.

I drop my bag on the table. It’s impossible to hide my smile.

“Let me guess…” she says.

I shake my head. “Don’t start.”

“Fine.” Laurel picks up a piece of toast. “I won’t say it, but I’m still thinking it.”

There is no way for her to know I’m spending time with Ozan… unless Maple tells her. I know my favorite sister wouldn’t do that. It’s still easy for Laurel to connect the dots and realize I’m spending time with someone.

And Laurel is the only one who saw us at the party. I still don’t know if she was too drunk to remember. It doesn’t matter. She seems better now, cheerily picking at her breakfast and sipping her orange juice. It’s as if that night, and the words she slung in my direction, never happened.

I still remember everything she said, but Laurel was right. I’m not her mother. The reminder was still cutting.

My sisters are happy. I realize that as I watch them around the table. Maple may not love her workplace, but she’s in the field she loves. Laurel is having fun with her tarot readings, and she can do them without the shop. Rowan is more successful than anyone in the family…

Aside from Aspen. Our middle sister is so happy that she barely responds to our texts.

I don’t need to keep taking care of them. It’s time to take care of myself. As much as Laurel’s words hurt me, she was right. I’m nobody’s mother.

“I think we should shut down the apothecary,” I say.

It feels surprisingly freeing to admit it aloud. The guilt I’m expecting doesn’t come. Instead, my smile grows. I must look positively chaotic.

Their eyes are all wide with alarm. Even Timber looks at me with his head cocked to the side.

“Why?” Rowan asks. “I thought we already had this talk.”

“Last time, I was whining, but I mean it this time.” I sit at the table and pick up a large orange, slipping my fingers under the peel.

“What changed?” Maple asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “That’s the problem. I need something to change, but I don’t know what—and I can’t figure it out, no matter how many times I look at it. That feeling of success, happiness, and excitement for the shop never came to me. I never wanted to run it.”

“It came for me.” Laurel smiles sadly. “But it wasn’t about the shop, I guess. It was my readings.”

“You can keep running the shop,” I say. “You would be good at it.”

“No. Definitely not.” Laurel shakes her head. “I don’t want to be the boss. I just want to read tarot.”

“You can do that outside of the shop,” Maple says. “We’ll set up a room for you right here.”

“That would be nice…” Laurel still looks glummer than I feel. I try not to let it elicit guilt.

“I get it,” Rowan says. “And I agree. I don’t think we should keep forcing it if it’s not working. It’s not what Mom would want.”

“But would she want us to shut it down?” My smile falters. “Would she be disappointed?”

I’m questioning myself. There’s no way of knowing what Mom would want. We could take out Laurel’s cards, but I don’t think asking her to channel our mother’s spirit is fair.

I need my sisters to support me and comfort me. I need to know they’re on the same page and won’t hate me for making this decision.

And I can’t keep being afraid to ask for love.

“She wouldn’t be,” Maple says. “She’s happy as long as we’re happy. That’s what I think.”

I drop the orange peel onto my plate. “The town doesn’t need us. That’s a big factor here.”

“It can’t still be about the other apothecary.” Laurel leans in and fixes me with a serious look. “You can’t let him stop you from doing what you want. That’s not very six of cups of him.”

“I’m not.” I smile wryly. “But because of him, I don’t have to force myself to do this. I’m glad someone else is taking care of the town. It’s… not his fault.”

The words have always been true, but it’s my first time saying them. It was hard to see it that way when Ozan’s apothecary first opened. I was still clinging to the past. I’m not now.

That must be why I feel so free.

“What are you going to do now?” Rowan is the realistic sister, and she poses the most obvious question. “For work, that is.”

“I… well…” I laugh. The sound is surprising to everyone around the table, I think, considering the look they exchange. “I don’t know what I’ll do next, but that’s what I need right now. I want to sit in confusion for a while.”

“You’re right,” Maple says. “You’ve been on the go for as long as I can remember. I tried to tell you at the start.”

Maple is correct, but I still can’t acknowledge the words with more than a simple nod.

After a moment of silence, Laurel sighs. “I don’t get it!”

I lift a brow. “Don’t get what?”

“The tarot reading. I thought the shop was the six of cups, but…I guess it wasn’t.” Laurel’s shoulders slump. “I guess the reading was wrong. Like, really wrong.”

I press my lips together. I shouldn’t give Laurel any ammunition—but if I make her feel like her readings are inaccurate, I’m not supporting my sister’s dream. They all support mine, even though I don’t know what it is yet.

“No. You were right all along,” I say. “It was Ozan… and it was love. Well—not love, but something close.”

If I don’t put a damper on it soon, it will become love. I can’t look at my sisters, but I know Laurel’s jaw is on the ground.

“Really?” Laurel leans across the table, taking my hand in hers. “My reading was right? And my intuition was, too?”

I nod and stare up at the ceiling. “It doesn’t matter. He’s still healing from a divorce. I don’t expect anything from him.”

“My reading didn’t see that part,” Laurel says. “There was no three of swords…”

“But the three of cups was there,” I say. “Sometimes that can represent a third party.”

“Rarely…” Rowan tilts her head to the side. “Unless there was another indication in the reading.”

Laurel hums under her breath.

“Forget the cards.” Maple frowns. “Honey… you need to talk to him. All the divination in the world can’t make up for bad communication.”

“I don’t want to,” I say. “We already talked. I know what we are.”

Even if I’m not strong enough to keep running the shop, I am strong enough to pretend I’m happy with being his friend. Just his friend.

I still can’t believe Ozan is my friend. Somehow, that’s more surprising than everything else we’ve done.

OZAN

The only decent bar in the county is twenty minutes away. It’s still a dive bar with dirty glasses and a cheap pool table, but it’s a place for me to escape for a night. I deserve a break after the month I’ve had.

Since moving to Starbrook, I’ve been working nonstop. It’s satisfying work and different from what I did in Boston, but it still takes up my precious energy. I have two options. I can have a night at a bar, drink a few, and get a cab home…

Or I can call up Juniper. I can’t think of better stress relief than spending time with her, but I’m not sure she wants that.

Juniper and I are in a strange place. We agreed to keep it casual and physical, but I know something more is brewing. I still want to give her space if she needs it.

This is supposed to be a good night. It’s supposed to be my night. Of course, Otis is here to ruin it.

He’s Massachusetts born and raised. Why the hell is he still in Maine?

I spot him as I sidle up to the bar. He’s a few inches shorter than me, with a mess of black hair and an unmissable taste for bright colors. His beanie is bright yellow and perfectly matches his checkered pants.

It’s impossible to miss him.

“Otis?”

I should avoid him—I definitely shouldn’t stand next to him, but I do.

He turns to me with a tired smile. “Hey, man.”

He greets me like we’re still friends—and more than that, like he belongs here. Otis and I met in Boston; in my eyes, he should be there.

I remember when we first met—it was in a bar like this one. We were using fake IDs, but the bar near campus tended to look the other way. After that night, we were fast friends.

That ended when Vanessa found comfort in him. I still don’t know how to deal with his presence.

I shake my head as if that will make him disappear—like I’m an Etch A Sketch, and he’s a poorly done portrait. “What are you doing here?”

I should be angrier—more demanding—when I ask the question. Instead, I’m puzzled.

“I don’t know.” It’s impossible to tell he’s drunk until he lets out a laugh. It’s closer to a giggle but without a speck of amusement. “I was supposed to leave days ago…”

“Where’s Vanessa?” I scan the area, just in case.

I’ll be gone in a heartbeat if she’s here. I wouldn’t put it past her to return to the other man after acting like she wants me back. It seems in character for her.

“I don’t know.” He stares into the bottom of his glass. “She dumped me. But she dumped you first, so I shouldn’t complain, huh?”

I’m probably supposed to feel good about their breakup, but I don’t.

With a sigh, I prop myself onto the stool next to his. “She didn’t dump me; she cheated on me. You can’t compare our situations, bud.”

He winces. “That’s true…”

Otis and I never talked about what happened. Not really. We had one yelling match—not my finest moment—and I never wanted to bring the conversation up again. I still don’t. The fates have other plans; they usually do.

“So, what? Are you moving here? To Waterville?” I snort. “No one wants to live in Waterville.”

I would rather live in Starbrook or another quaint town than in a moderate city like this. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to brag about, other than a college or two. Otis doesn’t belong here, and we both know it.

He shakes his head. “I can’t live here. I have a job to get back to.”

“Yeah. You do.”

I don’t want him sticking around. I’m allowed to have one selfish thought.

“I couldn’t stand the idea of driving back with her.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”

“I have a rental car booked for tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

There’s nothing else to say. I should try to get closure, but I’ve had enough of that. Things feel closed with Vanessa. Perhaps I’ll never get it with Otis. I don’t think he has the emotional capacity.

“Well…” I stand. “I’ll be on the other side of the bar. Give you your space.”

“Wait.” He glances at me, and I realize how pathetic he looks. Maybe he’s always been like this.

I lift a brow.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. Everything I did was stupid as fuck. It was wrong. It probably doesn’t seem like it, but I’ve thought about it a lot. I should have put our friendship first and…”

There’s no end to his sentence. It never comes. Relief from his apology doesn’t come either.

I smile sadly. “Yeah. You should have.”

But I don’t need to dangle it over his head, and I won’t let it ruin my night of relaxation. I clap him on the back before walking away.

I’ll probably never get closure with Otis, but I’m ready to move on now.

I’m not a big enough man to say it aloud, but when I glance back at my old friend… I hope, someday, he’ll find happiness.

Chapter 22

Juniper

Of course, someone comes in as I’m about to lock the door. That’s just my luck.

“We’re closing soon.” I glare at the doorway.

Oh, how I long to close the apothecary for good. We’re staying open a little longer to move as much of our product as possible, and the shelves are emptier by the day. It’s a comfort to know we won’t be left with an unmanageable amount of stock, but…

Reality is slapping me in the face. It’s almost the end.

My somber tune changes when I see who’s at the doorway.

Ozan stands there with a smirk on his lips. He crosses his arms.

I lift my brows in a challenge.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’ll go⁠—”

I cross to the other side of the shop in an instant. My fingers move to the lock, twisting it shut. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Laughter passes from his lips. It transforms into a surprised sound when I grip his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

Glass windows surround us. Ozan doesn’t care; he kisses me without question. His hand rises to the back of my neck, holding me in place as his tongue explores my mouth.

We’re getting good at this dance. As the days pass, I spend more nights at his apartment than at my family home. He knows my body like it’s his favorite song, and I learn to let him take the lead.

He guides me backward, pushing me toward the office. Before we can make our way there, he pauses.

“What’s going on?”

I lift a brow. “We’re about to have sex, I imagine.”

“Not that.” He looks at my potion cabinet, his brows furrowing. “Your stock is low.”

I freeze. Of course, Ozan notices something is different. He pays more attention than I once gave him credit for. There’s no real reason for me to keep the secret of the shop closing from Ozan…

But I don’t want to see him look at me with pity. I know he’s going to give it, or else he’ll try to convince me not to give up. That isn’t what I need from him. Ozan is a distraction, and so far, we haven’t allowed our relationship to be more than that.

“I’ve been too busy to brew,” I say.

That doesn’t explain the rest of our empty shelves.

His eyes narrow. “I hope that’s not my fault. Am I too distracting?”

“You are.” I tug on his shirt. “Do you hear me complaining?”

“Maybe you should complain. I don’t want to get in the way of your work, Juni.”

“I welcome the distractions.” Letting go of him, I walk into the office. “Please, Ozan? Come give me another one.”

“Another what?”

“A distraction.” I look over my shoulder. “Or an orgasm. Whichever you prefer.”

Both are good.

He may be perceptive, but Ozan is easy to distract, like any man. A groan falls from his lips as he pushes past the curtain and follows me into the office.

The room is more organized than before. Rowan transferred everything onto the computer. The old filing cabinets are gone, and the desk is clean…

It’s ready for me to sit on, and I do, crossing my legs and watching Ozan.

“Do you want me in here?” He watches me from the doorway.

“Yes. It’s poetic, don’t you think?” I tilt my head to the doorway. “We had our first kiss out there…”

His fists clench as he prowls closer. “How could I forget?” With hunger in his eyes, he pries my legs apart and moves to his knees.

I run my fingers through his hair. “That was so long ago.”

He presses his lips against my inner thighs. When his dark eyes lift to meet mine, I melt. After years of knowing Ozan—and despising him—I cannot believe how easily I melt for him.

He lets out a groan. “Juniper. You aren’t wearing anything under here...”

“I know.” I smirk. “It’s laundry day. You’re distracting me from all of my⁠—”

His mouth presses against my core, and I nearly lose my words.

“—responsibilities,” I finish in a shaking voice.

“Oh no.” His murmured words vibrate against my heat. “Now you have plenty of time to relax. We can’t have that.”

This doesn’t feel like relaxation. A single touch from Ozan sends electricity through my soul. The old frustrations I felt for him are gone but replaced with tension, making it impossible to find a moment of relaxation when I’m under his mouth.

The peace will come later, when he wraps me up in his big arms and plants kisses on my hairline.

His lips wrap around my clit, and I press my hand to my mouth, muffling my moans. His eyes never leave mine as his tongue rolls over my clit, causing my pleasure to coil tighter. Closer.

Ozan’s tongue dips into my entrance, and the moan that comes next is from him, his eyes rolling back as he gets a taste of me. His tongue darts into me over and over, encouraging my arousal to coat his tongue. I wrap my legs around him, heel pressing into his back to pull him closer.

He pulls his head away, and I whine as his fingers play at my entrance. “Did you work hard today, baby?” he asks.

I nod mindlessly.

“Hm? Use your words, Juni. Let me hear it. Do you think you deserve to come?”

“Yes,” I whimper.

He plunges two fingers into my pussy. Deep. So deep.

That’s all it takes to stretch me out and make me feel him. My thighs shake. Each word vibrates against my core.

“I think you do, too.” He laps at my clit, and his words get lost.

Mine disappear, too, dissolving into breathy moans that echo through the office. I should be concerned with someone walking in, but the further he pushes me, the more I worry only for my pleasure.

Ozan is a distraction, but he’s the best one I can imagine. He pushes me to pleasure until I can’t think straight, and even though I’m failing at everything I’ve ever wanted, he makes me feel like I deserve it.

He is becoming the sunny spot in my bleakest days.

Beneath the bliss is a worry—a thought that’s becoming harder to push away. What am I to do when he’s no longer here? Where will the sunlight come from then?

Chapter 23

Ozan

I should see it coming, but I’m blindsided when I stop by the apothecary to find the lights off and a sign on the door:

Permanently Closed.

There’s nothing that could have prepared me for this.

I’m not the only one who notices the change. Heads turn to look at the sign whenever they pass by. My shop has been slow, too.

Is their business slow enough for them to give up?

The shop already looks closed, but I have a feeling it’s not. I take a risk, banging on the door the way she did mine weeks ago. My fists rattle the glass.

At first, I think no one will answer. There’s a chance the shop is already vacant.

After a few moments, Juniper shuffles out from the back.

When she opens the door, my heart falls into my stomach.

Her face is tear-stained, and her eyes are red-rimmed. Her pretty little outfits—the ones that make her look like Morticia Addams incarnate—are gone. She’s in sweatpants, with her hair in a messy bun.

Something is wrong. How did I miss it?

“What’s going on?” I step inside.

“It’s nothing.” She shakes her head.

This is the first time I’ve seen her cry.

“It’s something,” I say. “The shop is shutting down? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our fun.”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything. What happened, baby?”

I never use the honorific outside of the bedroom, but even in this setting it doesn’t make her so much as flinch.

“I’m not happy.” She sniffles.

“You’re not?”

“No. Not with the business—and not at all. I’m not good at this…”

She sounds like me before my divorce. I was stuck in a job I hated and a field I wasn’t passionate about. And, like me, I know she will find something better.

“What? You think you’re not meant for business?” I ask.

She shrugs.

“Running a business is hard, but you’re doing great—you’ll get used to it in a few years. I’m struggling too.”

“No.” She lets out a sad laugh. “It’s not about the business. It’s this business. I don’t love it…and I see how much you love it.”

“I do.” I touch her arm. “You deserve to do something you love.”

“I know, and I feel good about this decision. It feels right, but.”

“It doesn’t seem like you feel good about it.”

“It’s not that easy. A business decision is one thing.” Her voice trembles. “This feels like I’m saying goodbye to my mom!” She lets out a loud sob, and her shoulders shake.

My heart cracks and shatters. Mrs. Hawthorne was a kind woman. She always made me feel welcome in the shop. If she could put me at ease, I can only imagine what she did for her daughters.

I wrap my arms around Juniper, and she accepts the crushing hug, her hands meeting at the base of my back. I bury my face in her hair.

“Saying goodbye is hard”—I kiss the top of her head—"but this place will still be here. You’re not leaving it behind.”

She shakes in my arms, and all I can do is keep kissing her forehead, her hair, her cheek. Anything I can touch. She leans into each brush of my lips, and I know it’s not enough, but it’s something. I’m giving her everything I can.

She doesn’t let go.

After a few minutes, her breathing calms. She wipes away any tears my shirt didn’t already soak up.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, pulling away to look at me.

“Don’t apologize.” I hold her face and use my thumb to swipe away a tear. “I want to thank you.”

“For what?” She lets out a pained laugh.

“For letting me be here. I know it isn’t easy for you.”

There’s a moment where I think she’ll deny it, but she doesn’t.

“You’re right. None of this is easy. It hurts.”

“It’s allowed to hurt.” I take her hand, stroking the back of it with my thumb. “How are you getting home, baby? I don’t want you driving like this.”

“I’m walking.”

“No. You’re not. Not like this,” I say. “I’m driving you.”

I’m expecting an argument, but she surprises me again.

“Okay,” she says. “That would be nice.”

Juniper is different than I’ve ever known her. In my truck, she looks small and fragile. She’s pushed to the other side of the vehicle, with her cheek pressed to the window. I hope it’s imprinted there forever.

The ride home isn’t long, but I feel better knowing she isn’t walking around with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Do you need anything from me?” I ask as I park outside her house.

She shakes her head. “You already gave me everything I need. Thank you again.”

“Enough of that.” I hold her chin and turn her face so she looks at me. “You really don’t have to thank me. It is an honor to take care of you. I wish you had let me do it sooner.”

She exhales shakily, and then… she smiles. Finally, a smile. My chest grows warm. At the end of her terrible day, she’s smiling for me.

“I’m letting you do it now,” she says.

“You are.”

“I’m going to spend the night… I don’t know. Sleeping. Drinking hot chocolate.” She shrugs. “So, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

There’s nothing she can say to keep me from worrying, but when she opens the car door, I let her go.

Juniper is the one who pauses.

“Hey, Oz?”

My heart pounds. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to come inside?”

She already knows the answer. She must. I’m out of the car before I can respond. What if she changes her mind? I’ll survive—but I want to be there for her.

I want her to let me in, and she is.

If Juniper is worried about her sister seeing us together, she doesn’t show it. We’re holding hands as we approach the front door.

JUNIPER

Taking him inside is a risk. My sisters are lurking everywhere… but they are as glum as I am. We’re all saying goodbye to a piece of our mother, even if Ozan insists we’re not. They’ll understand why I have a friend over. I need someone to cheer me up.

They may be less understanding about the cheerful person in question. I still can’t believe Ozan is my friend, but he is. He may even be my best friend, aside from Maple, but I’ll never tell him.

My actions speak for me. Inviting someone into our house is an act of trust.

I don’t trust many people around my sisters, but Ozan has done everything to help us as a family. When Laurel was having a bad night, he helped me care for her. When the heater was broken, he fixed it.

And he’s here with me now when he could have left. Hell, he could have let me walk home alone. Of course, he wouldn’t do that. Ozan is present in my life, fiercely fighting for a place in my heart, and I still don’t know how to accept that he’s already there. He more than earned that place.

Our living room is less cluttered these days. It’s mainly because I’ve had more time to clean, but there’s more to the story. The current round of renovations and repairs is over. My sisters cleaned up most of their mess… and much of my mother’s clutter, too.

We’re letting go of her, and none of us know how to feel about it.

There’s still a stack of books on the coffee table. The room still smells of cedar and sandalwood. Some things will never change. It’s warm thanks to the crackling fire, and we still don’t have central heating. A red, handmade quilt is folded on the couch, with a crochet blanket on top.

It’s home. No matter how many boxes we put away, my mom is still here.

I think she’s happy for me. This may be the first time I’ve felt it—her spirit, the thing everyone says I should feel. Whether witch, vampire, werewolf, or mundane… they all say her spirit is still with me.

It’s not until Ozan looks at me, with his hand in mine and his eyes crinkling with warmth, that I feel it.

A powerful rush of emotions runs through me, and even during my most morose hour, I find myself smiling back at him. It’s small and feeble, but it’s there.

“Sit here,” I say. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but I won’t hear it. I push on his giant shoulders, and down he goes.

“Let me know if you need help,” he says.

I’m already halfway to the kitchen.

To say I’m bad in the kitchen would be an understatement. Our mother tried to teach all of us to cook, to various degrees of success, but I’m spoiled by Maple. I hardly know how to make a thing…

I can make hot chocolate. I make it by hand, too, putting on a saucepan of milk and adding chunks of dark chocolate. It’s better than the powder. Maple won’t allow powdered hot chocolate in our home, anyway.

I sprinkle in ground cinnamon, stirring clockwise to add intention. I may not be a kitchen witch, but this is practically a potion.

It’s an intention for joy.

And, if Aphrodite allows it…

For love.

When I return with our hot chocolate, Ozan is still there. I sit with one leg tucked under the other and turn to face him.

He leans forward, reaching for a saucer on the coffee table.

“It’s hot,” I say.

“But it looks so good.” He wets his lips. “I’ll risk it.”

“No!” I laugh and grab his hands. “You’ll burn yourself.”

The energy between us softens. His head tilts to the side, and his warm eyes wander over my face with gentle interest. Neither of us pulls our hands away.

I’ve been denying my feelings for him for so long, but when he looks at me like this…it feels like he knows. He can strip me bare, down to my soul, with a single glance.

“You probably have a potion for that.” He clears his throat. “For the burns, I mean.”

“I don’t.” I click my tongue. “Don’t make me brew something on my night off.”

I have many nights off ahead of me. I try not to let the thought be a bother.

“Oh, no. We can’t have that,” he says.

I’m beginning to love how he smiles. There’s a dimple on his right cheek, and while he isn’t freshly shaven, his facial hair is sparse enough that I can see the little dent. I let go of his hand, my thumb brushing against his dimpled cheek.

It disappears along with his smile. The look in his eye becomes one of intensity.

I’m expecting him to make a move on me, but he doesn’t. He’s perfectly still instead, a gentleman through and through.

“Kiss me,” I whisper, looking up at him with a plea.

He leans down, brushing his lips against mine with a tenderness I don’t expect. He’s choked me, filled me, spanked me… all at my request, of course. It still surprises me when he treats me like I’m soft.

I melt under his gentle touch. For once, I don’t deepen the kiss. I press my lips sweetly to the corner of his mouth, smiling against his skin.

“Juniper…”

He starts, but the end of the sentence never comes. The front door flings open, and Laurel stares at us wide-eyed. A scarlet flush appears on my cheeks as he hurriedly leans away.

“Hey,” I say, doing my best to sound casual.

“Hey!” I’m expecting Laurel to say something embarrassing, but she doesn’t. She shuffles through the room with a secret smile on her face. “I’m just—going up to my room. I’ll be up there! If you need anything!”

“We won’t need anything,” I say.

“Okay!” she squeaks, running away.

Ozan is wearing another smile. “She’s funny.”

“She is the funniest of my sisters.” I chuckle. “Don’t tell Maple I said that.”

“Ah… I don’t know about that. I still remember the 2010 talent show. Maple’s standup was something else.”

“I always thought she should go pro, but she fell in love with cooking instead.”

“There’s time for her to do both. It’s never too late to try something new.”

We’re talking about Maple—but with how he looks at me, I know he’s trying to talk about my situation.

I don’t want to hear it.

“Your hot chocolate is ready.” I lean forward to pick up my saucer.

It’s thick enough to require a spoon. French hot chocolate is superior, even if it’s too rich for some.

Ozan doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. He stirs it around before spooning a bite into his mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not the kitchen witch?” He groans. “This is delicious.”

“Now, we’re both insulting Maple.” I snort. “I may have put some magic in it, but it’s nothing special.”

“Oh yeah? What kind?” He lifts a brow.

“Just a blessing. Something to bring us both happiness.”

He leans back on the couch and rests his hot chocolate on his knee. “You know what? I think I’m already there.”

“I think… I’m getting closer, but I still don’t know where to find it.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I can help.”

I shake my head. “I’m not ready to talk about what I’m doing next. I’m still mourning…”

“Your mom?”

“That,” I say, “and the dream that I could live up to her.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “You need to stop comparing yourself to her, baby. She wouldn’t want that.”

“I know…” My soft voice breaks. “I’m trying.”

Seeing myself as my own person is an adventure that will take baby steps, but I’ll get there. I feel closer to it each day.

“What happened to your mom?”

His words make me freeze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, some rumors are going around town, but…”

“What kind of rumors?” My eyes sharpen.

What happened to my mother was a tragedy, and we tried to keep the details in the family.

He shifts closer. “They’re saying a demon attacked her.”

My jaw tightens. “Well… they’re right?”

He shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

“Why act so surprised? Apparently, everyone already knows.”

“I was hoping the rumors weren’t true. You know how the folks around town are…”

“Nosy gossips,” I mutter, setting down my hot chocolate.

Today has been a disaster, and now, on top of it all, I’m having this conversation.

Ozan watches me quietly, waiting for me to say something more.

“It’s true. It happened at the shop.” I clear my throat, trying to collect myself. “I was the one who found her.”

“Juniper…”

“If I had been a few minutes earlier…” My face crumbles. “I could have done something to save her.”

“No.” He sighs softly. “You don’t know that. You could have been hurt, too. Your mom wouldn’t want that.”

“I guess…”

“Why did they attack your mother? I don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt her.”

“Neither do I.” A tear falls down my cheek.

He doesn’t hesitate to lean in and wipe it away. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“I want to.” I face him directly. “It’s frustrating that they’re spreading rumors around town, but I want you to know.”

I haven’t talked to anyone about this. Even though my sisters know, I still haven’t told them what it was like to find her… and everything that came after.

It’s been lonely, but I won’t burden my sisters with the flashes of fear that still cross my mind. At last, I have someone to listen to me… someone safe.

“Thank you.” He holds my cheek beneath his big hand and rubs his thumb against my skin. “This is hard to talk about, isn’t it?”

“It is. It feels impossible.” There’s a truth—or maybe a lie—that’s been digging into my chest for months. It longs to break free now, but my voice shakes as I say it. “I could have saved her. I was the only one who could have.”

“No.” His jaw tightens. “You know that’s not true. The fates⁠—”

“Oh, screw the fates.”

“I agree.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “You can’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

I don’t know if I believe him yet, but it’s what I need to hear. I needed these words for months—for a year. I crumble, collapsing in his arms. Sobs escape as I lose myself to the sorrow…

And the relief.

He soothes me as I break down, and for the first time since her death, I don’t feel alone. I have to take care of my sisters, and I may not ever be comfortable letting them do the same for me…

But, for a moment, I let Ozan hold me. I give him the job instead.

Chapter 24

Juniper

November is the wettest, rainiest, grossest month of the year. I love it. It’s a perfect fit for how I feel.

I’ve been without a job and a business for a week now. Phone calls have been flooding in. Neighbors are worried about me—about us—and I spend a lot of time assuring them everything is fine.

At least people aren’t asking about buying the shop. I’m not ready for that conversation, even though I know the time will come. I may never be prepared for it. Seeing the shop vacant on Main Street brings me no joy, but giving it up and seeing it turned into a sandwich shop?

I can think of nothing more gutting than that.

It is time to look for a job—or at least decide what I want to do. I settle onto the couch with my laptop. Our couch now has a permanent indent in the shape of my body.

Doing nothing has been nice. It’s the first time I’ve let myself relax, and let other people care for me, including Ozan. He’s been the shining light in all of this.

He’ll be proud of me for updating my resume. Baby steps. That’s what I have to take right now.

I stare at the long list of past jobs and all the memories that come with them. None of them were right for me. Why? If I can only figure that out, perhaps I can find something that is a good fit.

The apothecary was open for less than a month. My resume only has a month-long gap. I don’t have to add the shop to the list, but… I want to.

It didn’t work out, but it was a necessary time. Perhaps I can get a management job somewhere now that I have experience. That would be nice.

My long nails click and clack against my keyboard as I type. I lean back, staring at the words.

Hawthorne Apothecary.

At least it will be immortalized on my resume.

There’s a knock on the door. It’s so loud that, for a second, I confuse it with the thunder. It comes again, and I jump out of my skin, turning to the front door. I have half a mind not to answer it. It’s dark and eerie outside, and none of my sisters are home…

But Starbrook is the safest place I can think of. One of my neighbors may need help. That’s all it is.

I wrap my crochet blanket around my shoulders, desperately trying to stay warm, and shuffle to the door.

It’s Ozan. I should expect him, considering the time we’ve been spending together, but seeing him makes my heart skip a beat. It may not be from shock. It’s something more.

His hair is wet and shaggy, and his eyes are earnest. It doesn’t seem like he’s here for a casual visit.

“Come in.” I open the door wider. “You must be freezing. Where is your umbrella?”

“Don’t worry about that.” He steps inside, and his wet hands wring together. “I had to come over.”

“Oh?” I lift a brow, smirking. “Couldn’t stop thinking about me?”

He shakes his head.

I freeze. This may be serious, after all. Ozan rarely wastes his time. We would typically go to my room, and he would give me something to scream about. The house is empty. Why waste it?

I touch his cold, wet shoulder. My brows furrow. “Oz. What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s not bad, I swear.”

There’s no soothing me now. I’m already assuming the worst. He’s reuniting with Vanessa. Something happened to one of his parents. He’s going back to Boston. Something happened to his shop.

“Tell me,” I breathe.

He stands straighter. His severe expression becomes gleeful as a grin spreads across his features.

“I have an idea for the shop—for your shop. I finally figured it out.”

My heart sinks. I already gave up on the shop, and I’m ready to find something new. I thought Ozan left it behind, too. Apparently, while I’ve moved on to acceptance, he’s still stuck in the denial phase.

Poor thing.

He has enough to worry about with his shop and the upcoming holiday sales. We’ll be celebrating the solstice soon.

Why is he doing this?

I shake my head. “Leave it alone. It’s over.”

“No. I’m not leaving until we figure this out. You can say whatever you want, but that shop is your dream. Maybe not the way you were running it before, but…”

“Then what?” I laugh. “What am I supposed to do? I tried it, and it wasn’t right.”

“We’re going to make it right,” he says. “And like I said, I have an idea. I think you’re going to like it.”

Chapter 25

Ozan

The idea comes to me when I meet with my potion supplier. I’m paying out the ass for a few healing potions. My supplier is a wonderful older woman, and I’m glad to give her the business, but…

No one compares to Juniper. I’ve experienced her potions firsthand, and they’re strong. She puts her heart into them. Brewing is what she loves.

Running the shop may not be her passion, but there has to be a way for her to sell her potions.

It hits me.

I finish the transaction, don’t bother putting my potions away, and run to Juniper’s house in the pouring rain. She isn’t as excited as I thought she would be, but she’s open to hearing me out.

We sit at her kitchen table.

The clutter I used to see is gone, replaced with a bowl of oranges, apples, and pomegranates. The space is warm and filled with spice. Juniper being around has been good for the house, but if she wants to have more to sink her teeth into…

I know exactly what she can do.

“You won’t change my mind.” She sets a cup of tea before me. “But I welcome you to try. You know I love a challenge.”

I sigh, looking at her with love in my eyes. “I do know that about you.”

For a long time, I was the one challenging her. I didn’t mean to, but seeing her try to knock me down a few pegs became a favorite pastime. It breaks my heart to see her like this.

It’s been a time of rest for her, and she needs it, but she doesn’t seem happy. There are dark circles under her eyes. The fire I once saw there is put out. She’s still as beautiful as ever, sleepy and soft, but…

I want to see the passion in her eyes again—and I think she wants to see it, too. There’s a reason she’s sitting here with me instead of telling me to go home.

There are a few reasons, actually. Even though we haven’t discussed it, there’s a silent knowing that we’re more than friends. We’re more than a hookup, too. I don’t have a doubt in my mind that Juniper feels what I do…

And I love her. We’re not the type that needs to put it into words. Running to her in the cold, northeastern rain says it for me more than whispered words ever could.

“Come on, then. Tell me your brilliant idea.” She wraps her hands around her teacup.

I know the look in her eyes; she doesn’t dare be excited, but there’s a spark of hope.

“You didn’t love running the shop,” I say. “But you love making your potions. You can’t deny it.”

“And I won’t. I’ve always loved potions. I don’t need to brew them as a part of my job to love it.”

“But what if there’s another way for you to do it?”

She tilts her head to the side. “If you want me to make potions for your shop, I will…”

That would be the easy way, but it feels wrong. Juniper is strong and independent. I love that she’s learning to lean on other people, but I don’t want her to lose the different parts of herself.

There’s more she can do.

I shake my head. “That’s not what I want. I want to stop selling potions.”

Her eyes bulge out of her head. “Why? If it’s about the gold chest, you can have ours! I’ll loan it to you. It’s no big deal⁠—”

“It’s not about the chest; I don’t want your chest. I want you to sell them yourself, Juni.”

“No way. I’m not opening a potion shop. There’s no point when you’re right down the street.”

“You can sell potions for half the price.”

“Yeah, but…”

“And I’m not talking about a potion shop. Not in a traditional sense.” I lift my teacup and take a delicate sip.

It’s still hot enough to scald my tongue.

“What are you talking about?” Her words are clipped short.

“I’m talking about bringing everything you’ve worked at in your life into one thing.” I set the teacup down. “You should open a bar.”

“What?”

“Sell your potions there, brew them there—and sell alcohol, too. We don’t have a good bar in Starbrook. You know that.”

“I do, but⁠—”

“You said you wanted to learn to mix drinks.”

“Well, I do!”

“They can come to me for spells and herbs and go to you for potions.”

Several moments pass, and her eyes are still wide. I hold my breath, waiting for her response. She may hate the idea. I know Juniper has worked at bars before, and I even know she liked it…

Or she liked some of it.

She didn’t enjoy working with the customers, but it’s different when you’re in charge. She’s supposed to be the one in charge. That’s why I won’t let her work for me.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “That’s how I can make it my own. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”

JUNIPER

It will take hard work, and I can’t do this alone.

I never envisioned running my own bar. Thinking of a bar alone isn’t appealing—but combining it with the potions? It’s unheard of, at least in Maine, and it may be what I need to make the shop my own.

This means I don’t have to sell my mother’s apothecary or get rid of our memories there. All I have to do is make it my own…like Ozan said from the start.

Goddess, I hate that he was right.

This time, when I gather with my sisters, Ozan is here too. His presence is new, and I can’t pretend it’s not strange. Everyone around the table is wearing a questioning look, but Ozan himself is surprisingly comfortable.

He always surprises me.

“I’m sure I’m giving all of you whiplash…” My hands shake with nerves.

How long will they support me before they tire of my fickle behavior?

“Oh, you totally are. So what?” Laurel shrugs. “I’ve been doing that most of my life. It’s your turn now.”

“I guess that’s true.” I press my lips together.

“Don’t be so nervous.” Ozan looks at me from the next seat. Does he want to hold my hand, or am I imagining the twitch of his fingers?

I don’t dare do anything like that in front of my sisters—especially not Laurel. There’s no need to make her so happy. She’s been more mature lately, but that won’t stop her from teasing me later.

Ozan being here for the conversation is proof of his importance. It’s his first family meeting.

“Is it about the shop?” Rowan gives me a scrutinizing look. It feels like she can see through me.

I grimace. “It is…”

“Are we reopening?” Maple’s face lights up.

“That would give me whiplash.” Rowan presses her lips into a tight line.

I expect my sisters to be annoyed at the idea—and at me for bringing it up. The smart thing would be to put it to bed. I should go back to college and find a new career path. As Ozan said, it’s never too late to try something new.

But this idea is the first thing that has lit me on fire in a long time. It’s only been a few hours since Ozan told me the plan. His clothes and hair are warm and dry, and he looks cozy in our kitchen.

This is different than the first time we reopened the shop. That was for spite. I didn’t feel the fire in my belly. I feel it now.

“Not exactly,” I say. “I want to…well, I want to start an entirely new business. Something unique.”

The room goes quiet.

“From a business perspective, I like that idea.” Rowan pushes her glasses up her nose. “Customers were comparing our business to mom’s. You were, as well. That made it hard to grow, and the competition made it difficult, too.” She spares Ozan a glance.

“He won’t be our competition anymore,” I say.

Maple tilts her head to the side. “What did you have in mind?”

“Be open-minded,” I say.

No one speaks. They’re all waiting for me, but I’m twisting with embarrassment. Since when have I been bashful?

“It’s not that crazy…” Ozan chuckles. “Just tell them, baby.”

Now, I have another reason to blush. I don’t dare look at Laurel.

“It’s… well, I want to open a bar.” My lips press into a tight line.

The silence continues. Their expressions are neutral as they wait for me to say more.

Aside from Laurel. Her eyes light up, and she bounces in her seat, clearly wanting to say something.

“Not an ordinary bar,” I say. “We don’t have any good bars here—not really—so I want it to be that. A place for people to hang out and have a good drink. I have experience working in bars… and I always wanted to try bartending…”

“We’ll have to get licenses,” Rowan says.

“I know.” I nod adamantly. “It won’t be a fast change. I don’t need it to be. It’s going to take a lot of renovations.”

“What makes it so different from a typical bar?” Maple asks.

“I want to sell my potions and make magical drinks for people who want them.” I let out a slow, shaking breath. “We’ll still sell the usual alcohol, of course. Cocktails, beer, wine…”

“Selling potions will require another permit,” Rowan says. “That’s why this business model is rare.”

“I know,” I say, “but we already have it for the shop. It won’t be hard to get it transferred over.”

It was Ozan’s idea, but I’ve already enhanced it over the last few hours. I was thinking of the hot chocolate I made for us, which sealed the deal.

Sure, I can make the usual potions, but I can also make charmed drinks.

To my surprise, Rowan looks impressed. Her lips turn down, and she lifts her brows, nodding. “There’s nothing like that in Starbrook. Hell, in all of Maine…”

“I know,” I say. “Which means there may not be a market for it, but… I want to do it anyway.”

Rowan turns her attention to Ozan. “You would still be our competition.”

He shakes his head. “I’m done selling potions. I’ll direct them to you from now on.”

Rowan’s eyes narrow. “Why would you do that?”

“Because,” he says, “potions aren’t my passion. They’re Juniper’s.”

The attention turns to me, and I look down at my lap, fighting off a smile. I’ve been in relationships before. Some of them were good; others were a mess. No one made me feel so supported and so seen.

He and I aren’t together yet—I don’t think—and he’s already the best partner I’ve had.

“I, for one, love the idea.” Laurel finally speaks, and she’s gushing. “You’re right. It’s so hard to find a good place to drink here. Do you know how much I’m paying for a ride home from Waterville? Too much. And the house parties? I’m sick of them.”

I look up. “I’m glad you approve.”

Maple watches me intently—in a way she rarely does. She bites at the inside of her cheek.

“What about you?” I ask her. “Any thoughts?”

My heart pounds. I was expecting her to be the most supportive, but instead, she looks like she’s keeping a secret.

“Are we still invited to help?” Maple asks. “Because if you’re selling charmed drinks… I mean, adding charmed food into the mix…”

My eyes widen. “Seriously? You want to…?”

“It will mean more time and renovations, but I would love to be your chef,” she says. “Your head chef. If you want me, I’m yours.”

I’ve never heard her sound so assertive. The last time I heard her like this was when we worked in the kitchen together, and that didn’t go well, but this will be different.

“I have a better idea,” I say. “I want you to run it with me. We can co-own it. You can run the kitchen, and I’ll run the front.”

“Yes!” Maple claps her hands together. “A thousand times, yes.”

“If it’s too much responsibility, I understand. I don’t expect you to quit your job.”

“But I want to! Please, please, let me quit my job.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “I won’t stop you.”

After all, I know something about leaving a job behind. Losing my job felt like heartbreak, but now… I owe Denise a favor. I’ll send her a holiday card.

“I can still run the books.” Rowan sighs. “If you’d like.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” I say. “I can hire someone else.”

“I am.” Rowan shrugs. “If this goes off like I’m hoping, I may be able to take on fewer clients to make ends meet. That will be nice.”

“Well!” Laurel crosses her arms. “What about me? Everyone has something to do but me!”

“I still want you to do your tarot readings,” I say. “Those were a hit in the shop. We can advertise tarot nights.”

“And…?” Laurel leans forward and wiggles her eyebrows. “What else can I do?”

My smile drops. “Fine. You can be a bartender.”

“Really?” She clasps her hands together.

“Really,” I say. “I’ll teach you the ropes.”

I have to learn how first, but that’s a problem for a later day.

“This is the best day ever!” Laurel squeals.

Usually, I would want her to temper herself, but…

For once, I think she’s right. This is the best.

It’s all thanks to Ozan. I don’t try to hide it when I slide my hand across the table and take his hand in mine.

Chapter 26

Ozan

Juniper is happier than I’ve seen her in weeks—maybe happier than I’ve ever seen her—and it has nothing to do with me.

I may have given her the idea, but she ran with it faster than I thought she would. By the night’s end, she has a list of plans and numbers to call. Her sisters are on board, too.

The fire is back. It’s the flame I fell for, and it reminds me of when she would barge into my shop, desperate to get a step ahead of me. She’s no longer trying to burn me with her fire, but I would let her if she wanted to.

After a long night of planning, she asks to come home with me. It shouldn’t be shocking. We’ve spent a lot of nights together, and it’s usually at my place.

I expect her to have bigger things to focus on than cuddling up with me, but I won’t turn her down.

Once we’re in her car, she leans over the center console. Her fingers weave into my hair to pull me closer. Her lips are on mine all at once, demanding and possessive.

Still, she’s sweet, giggling against my mouth. Butterflies warm my stomach, and my heart goes racing. Seeing her this happy…

It does something to me.

I lean into the kiss, my lips parting to let her tongue slide into my mouth. She tastes me, and I melt again when her fingers brush over my hair.

“I need to drive,” I whisper.

“Do you?” Her nails trail down the side of my neck. “Let’s have fun here.”

I scoff. “We could in my truck, but your car does not have enough space for everything I want to do to you…”

“Oh?” She pulls away and lifts a brow. “And what do you wish to do?”

That’s one of the many problems with my size, but no one wants to hear a man complain about being too tall. I’m not the problem. Her car is tiny. I already adjusted it so I can drive, but I miss the space my truck offers.

I should have driven over, but the thought didn’t even enter my mind. I wanted to see her. It was simple. Being with her feels simple, even if some consider our situation confusing.

Seeing how happy I can make it clears it all up for me. If I can keep making her smile, that’s enough. No labels needed.

The nagging fears still linger in the back of my mind. If we’re not together… she can leave me. She can hurt me like Vanessa did.

But my past taught me commitment is not a security blanket, and I will never use it like one. Not again. Words and labels won’t stop someone from making terrible decisions.

I have to trust Juniper, and I think I’m learning to.

I smirk. “Why don’t I tell you what I want to do while I drive?”

“Because I don’t trust you to keep your attention on the road.”

“You should trust me.” I chuckle. “It’s a short drive.”

I pull out of the driveway and focus on the slick roads. Pleasure is already coiling in the pit of my stomach. I ignore it, fighting the urge to touch her. It would be easy to slip my finger up her short dress and…

“You know I want to taste you,” I say.

“Mm…I thought that may be on the agenda.”

“Feeling you shake under me…that cute little quiver in your thighs.” I let out a sigh. “That’s my favorite feeling in the world.”

“I can think of something you like more.”

“What’s that?”

She leans closer. Her voice drops to a low whisper, even though there’s no one around to hear. “Me shaking while you’re deep in my pussy—giving me everything you have. Every… last… inch.”

I inhale through my nose. It’s already a struggle to stay composed, and it becomes impossible when her delicate hand rests on my thick thigh. Her nails scrape against my jeans.

“Juniper…” Her name comes out in a low growl.

“Yes?”

“No touching until we’re at home.”

Her hand moves, and I would regret the command, but I love seeing how easily she listens to me. My pants grow tighter.

“Spread your legs,” I say. “And lift that pretty dress.”

“Wh—what?”

“I want you to touch yourself, baby.” I chuckle darkly. “Let me watch.”

I can see her from the corner of my eye. She bites at her lower lip and parts her legs, lifting her dress enough that I can see her clothed pussy. Black lace underwear—a pair I’ve seen before—cover her warmth. I force myself to look away.

Her fingers move between her legs.

“Touch yourself over the underwear,” I say.

She sighs and does as I ask, teasing herself through the fabric. “I’m already wet.”

“Of course you are.” I hold back a groan. “My good girl is always ready for me.”

For a few moments, all I hear is her soft, whiny breaths. She lifts her hips, thrusting against her hand.

I sit up straighter and lean in to focus on the road. At least it’s not raining anymore.

“Can I touch myself now?” she whimpers. “Under the⁠—”

“No—and you can’t come until I say so.”

“What?” There’s stress behind her words.

I know she loves it. It’s an agreement we’ve made. Giving me control of her pleasure gets her off, and who am I to deny that?

“Keep teasing yourself,” I say. “I want that pussy ready for me. I’m going to lick up every drop.”

Juniper is so good—so obedient. She doesn’t stop touching herself until we’re parked outside of my shop.

Her hand is on me as soon as I slide into my spot. Soft fingers graze against my hard bulge, and I hiss, grabbing her wrist and squeezing.

The rough touch draws a moan from her pretty mouth.

“Did I say you can touch me?” I lift a brow.

She shakes her head, and her eyes sparkle. “But⁠—“

“Let’s go upstairs,” I say. “You need a punishment.”

JUNIPER

Warmth thrums through me as I ascend the stairs. His eyes are on my ass—I can feel his attention there, and it’s exactly what I want. I don’t know how he’ll punish me, but I can imagine…

And I know it’s going to end in the most mind-shattering, life-altering orgasm of my life. It always does. Each time is better than the last.

We enter his little apartment, and I turn to face him.

“Where do you want me?” I blink at him with feigned innocence.

He hums and steps forward, holding my jaw in his large hand. “I want you everywhere. I want you on my cock, under me, on top of me, in the shower…”

I try to nod, but his touch grows firm, holding me still.

“Right now?” He leans closer with a dark look in his eye. “I want you over my knee. Come on.”

I savor these moments. After, I know he’ll fawn over me, and I love those times as well… but nothing makes me as weak as this.

Ozan sits on the edge of his bed and pulls me onto his lap. As promised, he bends me over his knee. He’s strong enough that I feel secure in place when he pushes up my skirt. A needy sigh falls from his mouth as he rubs a hand over my clothed ass.

His fingers graze against my wet pussy, just for a moment, and then his touch is back on my ass.

I arch my back in wait.

“Do you know why I’m doing this?” he asks.

I smirk. “Because it gets you hard?”

I can feel the proof beneath me. His thick cock is straining in his pants, and I know I’m applying pressure by being here.

Another thing I know is that I’m pushing his buttons—and he loves it.

His hand comes down on my ass in a hard smack. I wiggle under his grip, suppressing a moan. That’s what he wants to hear, but I won’t give it to him so easily.

“Because you’re a brat.” He smacks my ass again, hard enough to leave a red mark. This time, there’s no hiding the moan that dribbles from my lips.

He rubs my ass, soothing the area.

“I’m not,” I say, just to be contrarian. “I’m a good girl.”

“My good girl asks before she touches.”

He pushes down my underwear, and this time, when his large hand comes down on me, it’s against my bare skin. The sound echoes through the room. He rubs my ass again, his fingers teasing my entrance as he does.

I whine and arch my back, begging for more.

“I can’t believe how wet this makes you,” he says, giving me another spank. His free hand pushes my hair out of my face.

I turn my head to meet his gaze. “I want to be good for you.”

“You could have fooled me.” He smacks my ass again, making eye contact this time. It’s almost enough to finish me without a single touch. His rough fingers grip my ass.

I let out a cry of pleasure—and pain.

His touch is harsh, but his voice goes soft. “Do you need to use your safe word?”

I shake my head. “No. No.”

“You like this, don’t you?” His fingers dip into my wet entrance, teasing.

I nod vigorously. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“I can’t believe it. You’re already begging for me.” He pushes two fingers in, and a soft growl emits from his mouth. “You’re so fucking needy.”

“I am,” I whine.

“What do you need?” His fingers pump into me, but it’s still too slow. Not enough.

“I need to come.”

“Hm…” His fingers slip out, moving to my clit and rubbing me in firm circles. “I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“I do.” If he’s touching me, I won’t be able to hold off for long. I don’t think he wants me to. His hips twitch under me, and he touches me the way he knows I like it. The way I need it.

“Okay, baby.” He sighs. “You can come. Be a good girl. Let me hear it.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll stop.”

I know better than to test him, and it’s impossible to hold back my ecstasy. My body is already twitching beneath him. No matter how much I enjoy pressing his buttons, an instinctive part of me longs to listen to him.

He knows where to touch me, rubbing my clit in circles and applying delicious pressure.

I’m whining and twitching, still bent over his lap, when I see stars. There’s nothing for me to hold on to, but he keeps me secure. His free hand curls into my neck.

He slips his fingers back into my soaked hole and doesn’t stop fingering me until I go still. All I can hear in the room is our shared breaths. My ears ring; my pulse rushes and races.

He helps me to my feet, but I don’t stay there long, collapsing on the bed and spreading my legs.

“What?” He stands, and his eyes are still dark. “You really want more?”

I nod wordlessly.

I want to be a hole for him. He seems happy to oblige, undoing his belt and pants in what may be a record. His shirt comes off, too, but I pay no mind.

His thick, hard cock captures my attention.

I half-expect him to sink into me with haste, but he doesn’t. He stops to kiss me, and it’s soft, nuzzling his nose against mine.

“You feel so good,” he mumbles into my mouth. “I love how you feel around my fingers. Around my cock. Everything.”

“I love you.”

The words slip out without permission. My eyes widen, but he doesn’t share the same surprise. He rubs his cock against my center, wearing a soft smile.

“I love you too,” he says.

It means everything—but he doesn’t make it sound like a big deal, and… I can’t be embarrassed for more than a second.

“Oz. I want to try⁠—”

“Anything.”

“—sex magic.”

He lifts a brow. “You’ve never tried?”

“No. I haven’t.”

I’ve been thinking about it since I found the book in his shop… and I’ve been thinking about it with him.

I shake my head.

“Okay,” he says. “I can teach you. It’s about summoning energy and focusing on an intention. What is our intention?”

“My bar. I want to put all of our energy into that.”

He smiles big. “We can do that. We need to make sure we both finish, okay?”

“That won’t be hard.”

He groans as he sinks into me. I’m learning to memorize the feeling of how he fills me. It gets better each time. I never want anyone else. It’s only meant to be him, stretching me out, taking me to the hilt.

Our eyes lock. It’s intimate, too intimate if it were someone else, but when it’s us… I love it. It’s what I need. I no longer fight an urge to look away. Magic sparks in me as he gives me every inch.

His hips go still as he presses his forehead to mine. Strong hands grab my thighs, opening me wider. Somehow, he sinks deeper.

I cry out.

“That’s it.” He pulls back and gives it to me again, thrusting harder. “Feel the energy. Feel the pleasure—and remember what it is. It’s magic.”

There’s friction between our bodies—energy—and he’s right. I can sense the magic, sparkling and pink, all around us.

The noises, the thrusts, it is all creation.

“Picture your bar.” His words are strained. “Imagine it exactly how you want it.”

There’s a live band. It’s full of people. Everyone holds sparkling drinks. They’re merry, and their laughter carries over the sound of the music. I’m happy, too.

Ozan is there. He’s smiling at me from across the room.

The sign hanging above the bar is different—the Moonlit Tavern. My eyes widen as the name comes to me.

“Moonlit Tavern!”

“That’s right.” He fucks into me with a hard thrust, as if he’s making a point. “That’s such a—”thrust—“pretty name.”

“Feel it. Our pleasure. Our desire,” he says. “We’ll send it to that vision. Together.”

“Yes!” I cry.

His fingers press against my clit. He’s filling me with pleasure and magic, and I’m falling over the edge—but I don’t fall, do I? We fly together. Magic bursts between us.

“What is your intention?” He barely gets the words out.

“Success.”

“And passion.”

That’s what we create together…

And for once, we’re making it for me. For once, something in my life is all for me.

Chapter 27

Ozan

It’s a shock to wake up and find Juniper still in my bed. We’ve shared countless nights, and she’s always gone in the morning. Even when we’re at her house, she creeps downstairs before sunrise. I usually find her making breakfast by the time I rouse.

I don’t need to reach out to know she’s there. Her ample body presses against mine, and she wiggles closer to me. I put my arm around her, pushing my hand into her soft belly.

Of course, Juniper is already awake. That makes me feel even better about her presence. It’s not that she accidentally slept in. It’s that she wants to be here. The screen is dim, but she’s definitely swiping on her phone.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I press a kiss on her shoulder.

She’s wearing one of my shirts. It’s the sexiest thing I can think of, but I try not to get too excited.

“Morning.” She turns her head to look at me, and a smile dances on her lips. “Breakfast?”

“Those might be the best words I’ve heard all day.”

“You just woke up.”

“Exactly.”

There’s a diner in Starbrook that I’ve always loved. It’s owned by a happy werewolf couple, meaning the portions are enormous. They’re perfect for me. Juniper also seems pleased, rubbing her hands together when the server sets a plate of pumpkin spice pancakes in front of her.

“You been here before?” I cut into my eggs—sunny side up.

“Of course.” She points her fork at me. “This place is an institution, and you know it.” She eats a bite of fluffy pancakes.

“Mhm. I think I remember seeing you here when we were young.”

“I’ve certainly seen you. You were always surrounded by your jock friends.”

I wince. “Yeah. Them.”

I’m not in touch with most of my old friends. There are a rare few, like Antoni, who I’ve been happy to reconnect with. Some of them moved away. Others are still here, but they feel miles away.

“Don’t be weird,” she says. “If you think I’m still upset about some high school bullies…”

“I don’t think that.”

“Good. Because I’m not.” She lifts her tea and takes a sip of the hot liquid. “I never forgot how you stood up for me, though.”

“I should have done more.”

“It doesn’t matter. We were kids. I don’t even think I got the worst of the bullying in that school.”

Juniper was popular in her own way—but very different than me. She was bright and pretty but patronizing… and that last part made it too easy to push her buttons.

“So, that’s not why you hated me?” I lift a brow. “I thought you were holding a grudge.”

“I never hated you, but you always… I don’t know. You riled me up.”

I chuckle. “That’s easy to do. It always was.”

“Are you trying to get on my bad side again?”

“No. Not at all. The opposite, actually.”

“You’re already on my good side.”

“There’s always room for improvement,” I say. “I’d like to get on your better side.”

Her foot brushes against mine under the table. “I thought last night proved that you’re already on top.”

I chuckle nervously. “On top of what?”

“You’re number one on my list of favorite people,” she says matter-of-factly.

Right. She loves me. And I love her. I’ve known for a few weeks now. It was easy to say back, but it left me with doubts. Did she mean it?

Does she mean it?

“Really? I’m number one.”

“Actually…” She tilts her head to the side. “You might have to be number five. My sisters spent years securing their spots.”

“As long as I’m in the top ten, I’ll take it.”

She gives me a yearning look. “I meant what I said, Oz.”

“What did you say?” I fight a smile.

She glares. How does she still look entirely in love with me when she’s glaring like that?

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“I love you!” Her voice raises.

The server glances at us, and her brows lift in shock. She darts away.

I let out a loud burst of laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Juniper exclaims.

“I’m not!”

I take her hand and weave our fingers together. “You’re cute. That’s all.”

“And…? You’re going to force it out of me, but you won’t⁠—”

“I love you too,” I say, cutting her off. “I loved you first.”

“It’s not a competition!”

“Since when? It’s always been a competition with us.”

She shakes her head, and a smile breaks out on her face. It’s big and silly, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. “You’re an idiot.”

“You can insult me all you want. I still love you.”

“I know. You can stop saying it now.”

“No. I don’t think I will.”

She inhales slowly and fights to temper her smile. “The bar is the most important thing to me right now. I don’t want any distractions.”

“I know.”

“I need to focus on that.”

“You know I support you. I have my business to focus on, too.”

“What I’m trying to say is… you can’t be my only priority right now. But I’ll still make time for you and… for us.” She pauses. “If you want to be together.”

“I do.” I squeeze her hand and stare into her eyes. “I admire you for putting your career first. I’m going to make that a priority, too. You have me now. We’re a team.”

Her smile returns. “I like the sound of that.”

“Mm… you know what? I do, too.”

Chapter 28

Juniper

ONE MONTH LATER

Turning a shop into a bar is no easy task. Maple and I empty our savings into it, call in a few favors, use a touch of magic, and the place is coming together within a month. There’s still a way to go, but I can finally see the vision. My sisters and I stand outside as they put up the new sign.

The Moonlit Tavern.

I designed the font and the little moon myself. There’s no better way to make my mark on the bar.

Taking our mother’s old sign down is bittersweet, but our mother’s spirit still lives there. Her portrait hangs behind the bar for all to see, and as we watch everything come together… we know she’s smiling down at us. Finally, I can feel her.

We haven’t even opened yet, but the feeling I’ve been waiting for is finally here. I am settled.

Her spirit is around me more than when I ran the apothecary.

I’m ready to face life again. No, it’s more. For the first time in my adult life, I have something I need to succeed in. Gods, I missed that feeling.

“It’s perfect!” Maple gasps, clasping her hands together.

With misty eyes, I watch my sisters. “It’s everything I wanted.”

“I wish Aspen was here.” As happy as we are, Rowan is frowning.

Aspen replied to the group chat and allowed us to make the changes, but… it feels wrong that our middle sister isn’t here.

“She’ll be here for solstice,” I say. “She promised us.”

“This place is going to be so pretty for Yule!” Laurel bounces on the balls of her feet. “Oh, can we get a big Yule tree? Please?”

“Sure.” I chuckle. “We can do that.”

“Will we be ready to open in time?” Maple asks.

“We will,” I say. “It’s looking like we’re going to be ready soon.”

Yule is a few weeks away, and we have a lot of work to do… but I’m not alone. I have my sisters.

And I have Ozan.

TWO WEEKS LATER — OPENING NIGHT

Laurel was right about the Yule tree. It’s big—the biggest I’ve ever seen—and it looks perfect in our bar. The place is jam-packed with familiar faces. Not that I have time to look. Laurel and I are behind the bar, slinging drinks and food.

The little kitchen is as busy, but at least Maple isn’t alone. She has a team behind her. As the night flies by, I think my mother would be proud. We’ve taken her shop to levels she never would have imagined…

And we’re doing it together. Each of us has a place and a job.

Soft Christmas music plays in the background, quiet enough that the patrons can still converse but loud enough that they can feel the vibe. I lose track of the cranberry bliss drinks I’ve made. They’re not as strong as the one I shared with Ozan all those weeks ago. I would say they’re just right.

And he’s here, too.

It’s easy to spot Ozan as he weaves through the crowd, several inches taller than any other patron. He notices me, too. His dimples appear as a broad smile stretches on his handsome face.

Someone smarter than me would smile back and go on with their life. We’re too busy for me to give Ozan the attention I want to. I can’t waste time with my boyfriend on opening night.

But…

Gods, I can’t stay away from him. None of this would come together without him. He deserves some acknowledgment.

“I’ll be back,” I say to Laurel.

“What?” She looks at me with wide eyes, and I pay her no mind.

Laurel is a surprisingly good barkeep. She and I spent weeks studying, and by the time we’re done, she’s as good as I am. She may even be better. Potions aren’t her specialty, but she can charm a drink unlike anyone else.

“Excuse me.” I push my way through the crowd, desperate to reach Ozan.

I have so much to thank him for. This bar is my baby, and he’s never made me feel like it was anything less, but his idea started it all. I won’t forget it.

Before I can reach him, a hand on my shoulder stops me.

“This is what I was talking about!” Denise’s voice booms through the crowd, and when I turn to face her, there’s a bright smile on her face.

Pride swells in me. It’s embarrassing to let the praise of my old boss influence me, but… it does.

“Yeah?” I shake my head. “Let me guess. You knew this was coming?”

“Definitely not—but I know what happiness looks like. You’re happy.”

I glance at Ozan in the distance. “I really am.” My attention turns back to Denise. “I hope you’re ready for some competition.”

“Oh, I’ve been ready.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Just don’t forget about me, all right? We’re not competition. Not really.”

“What are we?”

She shrugs. “I’m your mentor. I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on that sooner.”

I blink. “Gods. I really didn’t.”

“Yeah, well… what do you think?”

“I think…” Thinking back to running the shop decides for me. It would have been easier with a mentor. I nod, and my smile grows. “I could use one of those. Does this mean I can call you up at all hours of the night?”

“Whenever. Whatever you need. I got you.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” And this time, I mean it.

If these last few months taught me a single thing, it’s that I can’t do this alone.

Every puzzle piece of my life clicks together. My eyes shift again, meeting Ozan’s in the crowded bar. “If you’ll excuse me…”

Denise steps away. “Of course. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Oh, very.”

But my reason for ambling in the other direction has little to do with business. I need to see him. That urge grows, and his presence pulls at me like a string connecting our chests.

Ozan and I finally meet in the middle of the crowded room. The sparkling light from the Christmas tree reflects on his face and deep in his dark eyes.

“Look at this place.” He shakes his head. “I’m so proud of you. It looks beautiful.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

He holds my face in his large hands, and his expression softens. “Your mom would be proud, too.”

For the first time in my life, I believe those words. More than that, I’m proud of myself. I know she has something to be proud of. I worked hard.

“I know.” I grab his jacket and pull him closer. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. You helped this come together, and I wouldn’t be here without you.”

I love it here—with him and in the bar. I’m happy. It’s the joy I want to bask in, hold on to, and pray to the gods not to let it fade. Maybe it will fade someday, but it doesn’t matter. I have it now.

Ozan is a part of it.

“You would have found a way,” he says.

I tug on his jacket again. “Shut up and take the compliment.”

Not only does he take the compliment, but he takes the hint. I pull, and he lowers his head, bowing close enough that I can bridge the gap between our mouths. I stand on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his.

I’ve never been the romantic type—the floating on cloud-nine when we kiss type. The type to search out mistletoe kisses. The type to get butterflies. He gives me all of those things.

When we kiss, I swear the room is spinning. Ozan is the one for me. He has to be.

Bonus Content

Sign up to Elle’s mailing list for four bonus scenes including:

A POV chapter of the forgotten sister, Aspen.

Ozan’s “self care” scene after the bliss potion.

A bonus spicy scene/spicy extended epilogue.

Ozan’s extended epilogue.

You can find it here:

Acknowledgments

My cover artist, lictoria_art, really made the most gorgeous, cozy cover in the world. Thank you for bringing my vision to life and sharing your art with me.

And to dextrose.png, impyeu, and juniper.charm for making such wonderful character art for my book bundles!

You can find all of the artists on Instagram.

You all helped this project come together, and I’m so grateful!

Lastly, thank you to everyone who read Bewitched & Bewildered—including my wonderful ARC readers. People like you are why I keep going.

About the Author

Elle Lavendelle (she/they) is a lover of fantasy and all things cozy. She grew up in Maine, but currently lives in California with their spouse and senior doggy. When she’s not crafting worlds, you can find Elle studying the stars and brewing tea.

Find her on ellelavendelle.com, or @lavendellebooks on all socials. Don’t forget to sign up for my mailing list!

Also by Elle Lavendelle

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Flash of the Phoenix

Curse of the Swan

The Strode University Series (Paranormal Mystery Romance / Dark Academia)

What Happened on Roslyn Street?

The Order of the Bitter Hunt (coming soon!)

The Witches of Starbrook Series (Standalone cozy, witchy romances)

Bewitched & Bewilldered

Spellbound & Speechless (coming soon!)

Tarot, Tea & Trickery (coming soon!)

Contemporary Romance Standalones

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Our Ruinous Roommate