Page 104 of Hexed & Hazy

But what am I supposed to do when she’s still the one I want to share all my good days with? I can’t stay away.

It’s an out-of-body experience when I knock on her door a few hours after sunset, and to my relief, Rowan is the one who answers. It could have been Laurel taunting me, or Juniper telling me to go home, but it’s her.

She looks more well-rested than the last time I saw her, and… she’s standing. Healed. Strong. Laurel gave me updates on her injury, and I know she’s feeling better, but the confirmation still makes my shoulders sag with relief. She probably doesn’t know how hard it was for me to stay away, but the last thing I wanted was to hurt her… again.

Seeing her hurts, and I deserve the pain. When I thought about coming over, telling Rowan, talking to Rowan… I didn’t imagine she would look like this. A silky emerald nightgown clings to her curves, and the lacy slit up one side perfectly shows a flash of her thick, dimpled thigh. The neckline plunges, revealing a spot I always loved to kiss, to fuck, to suck⁠—

And I swiftly force my attention back up to her face. That’s safe, except that it isn’t at all, because she’s pissed. For a second, I’m sure she’s going to slam the door. Rowan’s anger is subtle and quiet—a narrowing of the eyes, her lips thinning—but I’ve come to know all of her facial expressions way too well.

She rolls her eyes. “My ankle has already healed. You don’t need to check on me.”

I frown, my heart skipping beats as I try to work my way around my words. “That’s not what I’m doing?”

“Then what are you doing here, Seth?”

Rowan may not be the friendliest person, but I’ve never felt more unwelcome than I do now. She hasn’t even invited me inside. Did I make a mistake in coming?

“I… just wanted to catch up, I guess,” I whisper.

A pathetic excuse. I can’t show up like this, with no warning and no real reason to see her. Is it any better that I came to brag about my stupid accomplishments? I doubt it.

She stays there for too long, a marble statue, before finally stepping aside. “Fine. Come in.”

I look around the house—peaceful, something the Hawthorne house so rarely is. “Where is everyone?”

“Laurel is in Hell.”

“Ah…” I chuckle.

“And Juniper is working.”

That means it’s just us. I almost wish someone were around to be a buffer. Instead, we stand in the middle of the living room, more awkward than we’ve ever been.

“Donnie and I are starting a community garden,” I blurt. “It’s—going to take a while, and we have some fundraisers coming up, but I’m excited about it. More than I’ve been about anything in a long time, and… I just wanted to tell you, I guess.”

My face is hot. Maybe it’s from the crackling fire, but I doubt it. God, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s embarrassing. What, I came here to brag about a hobby, one she so obviously doesn’t care about? The hopes I have of us reuniting once the hex is broken are quickly dissolving. This was supposed to be a break, but time apart probably reminded Rowan that she’s way too good for me.

Because she is. She’s smart, beautiful, and has her life together. Always miles ahead of me.

Just when my hope threatens to leave the building for good, her expression softens. “That’s really great. I think that will help a lot of people. And it will make you happy, right?”

“Yeah. I think it will. Even though it’s all paperwork and fundraising right now, I’m already having a lot of fun with it.”

“It’s good to see that your hex isn’t disrupting that.”

There’s no bitterness in her words, but there could be. She’s genuine, I think. The hex is getting in the way of my happiness still—it’s still pushing us apart, as far as I can tell—but at least I can build a garden.

“Yeah. I, um… I don’t know. I just wanted to tell someone, and you’re still the one who comes to mind.”

Because I love her. I loved her when she was glaring at me and clearly wanted me to leave, and I don’t think I would stop even if she kicked me out. Rowan has no reason to love me, but I can’t stop loving her, and I don’t want to move on. I don’t even want to think about it.

This isn’t the time to tell her. I shouldn’t even be here. Am I putting her in danger again?

I glance at the door.

When her hand lands on my shoulder and I turn my attention back to her, she’s closer than I expect. There’s a genuine sparkle in her eye. “I mean it. I’m happy for you. And I’m making good changes, too. Changing my rates. Taking on fewer clients. I feel better.”

She feels better now that she’s not with me, now that my hex isn’t harming her. I don’t let myself voice the thought.