Page 58 of Hexed & Hazy

I nod repeatedly. “Yeah. Right. Of course.”

“Like, now. She’s at the tavern. Go.”

Chapter 19

Rowan

I park outside the tavern and stare in. Seconds turn to minutes. Clear skies turn to snowfall. Maybe I should go home, but I don’t want to look across the street and see him shoveling the walkway. I don’t want to see him at all. It’s far too embarrassing.

What is it about Seth that makes it impossible to keep my mouth shut?

I’m in the wrong here—for assuming things, for being upset over nothing, and for letting him run away.

I messed up.

Why am I still doubting myself? My role in my family, my friendship with Seth, and everything else. And that insecurity hurt Seth. I could tell by the way he looked at me. He couldn’t even sit in a car with me.

His feelings for Laurel always felt like such a certainty to me. When I was looking at him, he was looking at her—wasn’t he? For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m not so sure.

I’ve never seen him so upset. So when he told me to flee, I did.

And I’m running again. Running into my family business.

Before my mother’s passing, the tavern was an apothecary, filled with sweet herbs and the comfort of our family’s matron. I still seek those things, pushing past tipsy patrons and familiar faces, into the kitchen where Maple is hard at work.

Not my mom, but Maple has her recipes, her stories, and her eyes. It’s close enough.

I stay there, staring, for several long moments. The kitchen bustles around me—whisking, chopping, yelling, running. Maple turns, her eyes lock with mine, and recognition flickers behind them.

“You need a drink,” Maple says.

I nod wordlessly.

“And… maybe a slice of cherry pie?”

I nod again.

Moments later, she ushers me into the office with both things in hand. The office is clean now—largely my doing—and organized—also me. It’s not a room any of us spends much time in, but it’s still cozy. It houses the inventory of our potions and drinks, Juniper’s wooden desk, and several obscure paintings on the walls.

I stare at the pink drink she sets in front of me. Anything my sister gives me is charmed with good intentions, something to perk me up, but I have to force myself to sip on it. Maybe I don’t want to perk up.

“What happened, sweetie?” Maple asks.

I shake my head. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Which usually means it’s everything, huh?” She strokes my hair delicately. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head, and Maple looks unsurprised.

“Then eat the pie.” She gestures to the plate.

That’s easier, forking a small bite of pie into my mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

I don’t want to talk about it. Not to Maple, not to anyone. It’s always been easier to let my feelings sit on my chest, not to give them to the people I care about, but I can’t keep holding back.

“I’m in love with Seth.”

It’s as if the words don’t belong to me at all; they leave my mouth even though I try desperately to push them right back down. It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud, and I regret it in an instant, but there’s no taking it back.