Junie stared at the flame. Her heart was doing unsteady things behind her ribs—racing and stumbling and refusing to behave. “This is insane.”
“The surge is creating bonds,” Avine said softly. “That’s what it does. It finds matches and… encourages them. Theo explained it to me when we first—” She caught herself, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “The point is, it’s not impossible. It’s not even unlikely, given everything happening in Haven Shores right now.”
“But why him?” Junie threw her hands up, nearly sloshing wine on the couch. “Of all the people in the world, why would fate pick the most arrogant, emotionally constipated lion on the West Coast?”
“Maybe because you need someone who won’t let you deflect,” Dahlia offered. Then, at Junie’s betrayed look: “Eat a cookie. It’s not enchanted. Probably.”
EIGHT
JUNIE
The wine flowed. The candle eventually returned to white after Junie refused to say Leo’s name again. Cassia’s thunder faded to distant rumbling. And somehow, inevitably, the conversation moved from Junie’s potential mate situation to her actual crisis.
“He figured it out, you know.” Junie pulled her knees up to her ribs, making herself small on the couch. “Leo. In about thirty seconds, he identified what’s been messing with my potions for three months. The ley line is reacting to emotional magic from the surge. That’s why my formulations keep going haywire.”
“That makes sense.” Narla nodded slowly. “The surge is essentially concentrated emotional energy. If your ley line access amplifies whatever’s in the air…”
“Then I’m screwed.” Junie’s voice cracked slightly. She covered it with another sip of wine, but from the looks her friends exchanged, she hadn’t fooled anyone. “The surge isn’t stopping. If anything, it’s getting stronger. Which means my potions are going to keep misfiring, and my customers are going to keep leaving, and eventually?—”
She stopped. Swallowed hard.
“Eventually what?” Cassia’s voice had lost its teasing edge.
“Eventually, I won’t have a business anymore.” The words came out small. Scared. Nothing like the confident chaos witch Junie worked so hard to project. “Potions are all I have. All I’ve ever had. My grandmother taught me everything she knew before she died, and I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to live up to her legacy, and now?—”
Her voice broke completely.
“Junie.” Avine’s voice was thick with understanding.
“No, I—” Junie pressed her palms against her eyes. “I know I’m being dramatic. I know it’s not the end of the world. But when I was twelve and Grandmother died and Mom couldn’t handle it and left, the only thing that kept me sane was brewing. The shop was my anchor. My identity. The one thing I was good at.”
She dropped her hands, meeting her friends’ worried faces.
“Without my potions, I don’t know who I am. And I know that’s pathetic?—”
“It’s not pathetic.” Cassia’s voice had lost every trace of teasing. “It’s human.”
The room went quiet. Outside, Cassia’s distant thunder fell silent. Even Marzipan stopped her eternal grooming to watch, eyes uncharacteristically solemn.
Dahlia was first. She crossed the room and curled onto the couch beside Junie, wrapping arms around her shoulders. She smelled like honey and bread and comfort—the same scent that had permeated Honey & Hex for as long as Junie could remember.
“You’re not broken,” Dahlia said firmly. “Your magic isn’t broken. The surge is affecting everyone.”
“But not like this.” Junie’s eyes burned. She blinked hard, refusing to cry. Crying was for people who couldn’t handle things, and she’d been handling things since she was twelve years old. “You make pastries that hit too hard. Cassia causesunexpected squalls. Narla’s candles reveal truths people aren’t ready for. That’s inconvenient. My potions are making people fall in love with mailboxes. That’s dangerous.”
“Three unexpected squalls.” Cassia held up three fingers. “And one of them was definitely on purpose because that tourist was being an ass about the weather prediction.” She slid onto Junie’s other side, squishing her between friendly bodies. “My magic set off a lightning strike that nearly hit the harbor master’s boat last week. Dahlia’s confidence cookie made Mayor Holt stand up at a council meeting and confess his secret karaoke habit to the entire Elder Council. We’re all struggling. You just have a bigger target on your back because your shop is sitting on a magical hotspot.”
“The Mayor does karaoke?” Junie blinked.
“Broadway show tunes. Apparently, he’s quite good.” Dahlia’s smile was slightly guilty. “The cookie was supposed to help with public speaking confidence. Not… that.”
“Lucky me.” Junie almost smiled. Almost.
“Actually, yes.” Narla’s calm voice cut through the self-pity. She hadn’t left her corner, but her attention was intent. “That ley line access is why your grandmother chose that building. It’s why Moonrise Mixology produces the most potent potions on the coast. The same thing that’s causing problems now is what made your reputation.”
“Great. So my greatest strength is now my greatest weakness. Very inspiring.”
“Your greatest strength isyou.” Avine’s voice was quiet but certain. She’d positioned herself on the arm of the couch, close enough to rest a hand on Junie’s knee. “Your creativity. Your determination. The way you’ve never let anything stop you from figuring out a problem.”
