Page 88 of Clearly Charmed

‘Twelve. They say middle school is hard but try throwing in murmurs about being a witch to a voracious pack of teen girls. Every day was like walking through a minefield. People put voodoo dolls in my locker. Slid ugly, vile notes into my backpack.’ I pulled in a shaky breath, the memories too painful.

‘You said “falsified”?’

‘Yes, the guy made it all up because he wanted the story to go national. Make a big name for himself.’

‘That must have made people around here apologize. Feel bad for believing the lies.’

My laugh was rough. ‘Nope. It played into what they already believed. They want the business magic brings, just not the people who supposedly wield it.’ I glanced at the ground, toed at a loose rock with the tip of my shoe. ‘To this day, when I go into the Harvest Moon Market, the owner, Marylee, makes the sign of the cross when she sees me. Like I’m some devil she needs to cast out. Do you know how much it sucks that the people who live in the place I consider home think I’m evil without a damn shred of real evidence?’

‘Wait. The thing George said at the farm about coming home in spite of people. Is this what he was referring to?’

‘Yes.’ I hated the pitying look in his eyes. ‘My point is that your words will have weight. If there’s even a whisper alluding to my family line, people around here will run with it. Use it as a way to make trouble for us again.’

He scrubbed a hand behind his neck. Let out an achy breath. ‘I don’t know what to do. Writing is in my blood. In my soul. I can’t live without it, Dani. One captivating article about this town. Its mysterious history.’ He shook his head. ‘It could get me back on the map. But I also know from past investigations, like the one with the school secretary, that a story can cause ripples that change a person’s life.’

‘You’re good at your job, Bryce. I’ve read what you’ve written for the Post and the Times. Please, find another way to get back to your life. I’m begging you.’

‘Give me some time to think of a plan.’ He tried to sound convincing, but his voice was bleak, like he was hurting too but couldn’t figure a way out.

‘God, I am such a fool. Once again, I let Aster convince me she was right, and now I’m paying the price.’

His head snapped up. ‘Aster? What do you mean?’

‘Nothing,’ I bit out, cursing the fact that I’d let that slip. ‘Goodnight, Bryce.’

I started for my car when he called out, ‘Wait. You won the bet. I’m a man of my word. Come to the cabin tomorrow, and I’ll show you every bit of research I have. We can talk more about a way to make this right.’

His voice broke on the last words. After everything that had happened between us, how could I trust him? I was keeping things from him too, and that combination of lies made it impossible to have a real relationship. To build anything when the foundation could crumble at any moment.

‘It doesn’t matter anymore, Bryce. You’re going to do what you need to do and so am I.’

He called out for me once more. Asked me to wait, but I jumped inside the truck and peeled away from town. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I drove to the clinic. I’d failed my grandmother. My sisters. My life was about to shatter again, and I had no way of stopping it.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Midnight Mojitos

Flora greeted me when I walked in the door. I bent down to pet her, and she nuzzled into my chest, sensing that I needed comfort. I let a few more tears fall and then pushed out a full breath.

I was done crying over the situation. Over Bryce. For now, I had to focus on what I could control. My work. My future. Although I had no idea what that would look like once Bryce told the world about the ‘magic’ he believed the McGuire women possessed.

My bones were heavy and my mind was numb. In the bathroom I turned on the faucet, wiping away the trails of mascara streaks on my cheeks. All I wanted was to crawl under the covers and hide from the world. I walked into my bedroom with Flora close behind when the sound of my doorbell filled the room.

Shit. I could not handle an emergency tonight.

‘Flora, stay.’

I hustled down the stairs and through the door that separated my living space from the clinic. Several knocks followed another ring of the doorbell. Whoever was on the other side was about to get an earful.

‘I’m coming,’ I shouted. Once the deadbolt was thrown, I yanked open the door. Elena stood on the porch. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing her favorite Denver Nuggets sweatshirt she’d found at a thrift shop in Ouray a few years ago. Behind her, Aster bounced on her toes. The purple hoodie she wore nearly drowned her small body. Lia stood a few feet away wearing a black sweatsuit and a somber look.

Crap. Bree must have called them when I fled the tavern.

‘I’m not in the mood for company.’

‘Sorry, but we’re still coming in.’ Elena walked past me.

Aster pulled me into a hug. ‘There’s been this awful ache in my heart all day, but the shop’s been crazy. I’m sorry I didn’t call you.’