Page 33 of Haunt Me, Maybe

I didn’t stop hating magic because it was proven harmless. I stopped hating it because I saw it through her eyes. I saw what it cost her. The way she flinched when it stirred too loudly. The way she reinforced wards with shaking hands. She fucking apologized to the air when something went wrong, like the world was going to punish her personally for existing.

How had I ever seen her as evil? Manipulative? Hell, I wanted to do nothing but protect her and set fire to anything that dared to hurt her—even that crystal shard she nicked her finger on.

Magic hadn’t killed me. People had done that. And magic was the only thing standing between Aven and the same fate. Magic had been around me this entire time, pushing me to this moment…to her. The signs were too obvious to ignore. I thought back to the maze, how it moved us together. How the attic responded to her now more than me.

How her magic went quiet when I touched her, like it’s been looking for me without knowing it. Before, that would have terrified me. Now, it felt…inevitable. I exhaled slowly and stared at the floorboards I’d long ago memorized. I hadn’t given up on my animosity toward Aven—it burned itself out.

Anger needed a place to land, but I could no longer throw it at her. Every time I looked at her, I saw someone doing their best to not destroy things. And the threat coming after her? It was the perfect place to redirect that rage I’d been honing my entire afterlife.

When Aven finally left for her shift at the café, I followed. I hadn’t even considered leaving her alone, not after this morning. She walked across the front porch of the inn and down the steps with her shoulders tucked, like she was bracing for weather only she could feel, and my chest tightened painfully.

My own movements were silent as I slid into place beside her. Her head turned enough that I knew she saw me, but she didn’t yell for me to go away. Barely concealed tolerance…I’d take it. She wasn’t going to get rid of me that easily, no matter what she thought.

The café was stuffed to the brim when we arrived—warm light and voices spilling through the propped-open door. The smell of coffee, sugar, and bread drifted out onto the sidewalk, drawing in even more patrons. Fluttering paper caught my attention, and I noticed the flyers at the same time as Aven. They were everywhere: the door, the windows, the corkboard by the register.

AMBER GROVE HALLOWEEN FESTIVAL — END OF THE MONTH

My lip curled at the announcement. The festival was the largest tourist draw for the town; I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about it.

“Aven! You’re here!” Briony chirped, already halfway over the counter. She practically vibrated with excitement. “Have you seen these flyers? We’re doing caramel apples, and cider tastings, and the costume contest is back⁠—”

Aven smiled at Briony’s enthusiasm. A good smile. It was so convincing I had to take a second look. I watched her carefully as she tied her apron, nodding and laughing at all the right moments. She moved around the café like she’d memorized the choreography of being normal and was afraid of a single misstep.

It reminded me a lot of when she’d first arrived.

I hadn’t understood what I’d seen then—not really. The way fear lived in her posture; the way she kept her magic pulled so tight it hurt her. Now that I knew what Gideon had done to her…fuck, I saw the outline of that wound everywhere. I was oblivious before. A stupid, ignorant, vindictive asshole.

Throughout the afternoon, customers came and went. Coffee orders. Pastries. Aven’s fake laughter. But whispers also slipped through the room like drafts.

“—crows all over Sunhallow this morning⁠—”

“—picking the corn clean⁠—”

“And did you hear about the pumpkins? Rotting overnight. Whole patch on the far side⁠—”

Aven stiffened, having heard it all. Her hand tightened on the counter, and her eyes glazed in a faraway look. I recognized a rising panic attack…and the feel of her answering magic. The air shifted and pressure built, invisible but unmistakable. Aven’s magic coiled tight, pulling within her like a muscle cramp.

It felt…painful. And wrong. Like a silent scream she swallowed whole.

I moved toward her without hesitation, forgoing my plan to give her space in favor of one that offered comfort and control. Slipping behind the counter, my arm brushed hers, and the budding magic dropped. It didn’t vanish; it settled. All that pressure eased like a slow leak from a balloon, slowly deflating.

Aven swayed slightly before steadying. I hadn’t moved, too busy staring at her while puzzle pieces clicked together in my mind. I’d felt this before. Most recently in the attic, when I’d grabbed her wrists in the broken ward circle. She’d been shaking and pale and slipping away from herself. And before that…our kiss—the flare, the way she’d melted into me like gravity finally made sense.

I hadn’t questioned it either of those times, hadn’t thought it through. I’d been too focused on holding her, on being there for her. Now, my gaze locked on her profile as she resumed working.

I stabilized her.

The rest of her shift dragged as I wrestled with the realization. Aven faked her way through, smiling when Briony teased her about the festival and dodging personal questions with practiced ease. By the time she untied her apron, she looked like she’d been holding herself together with thread.

When she finally stepped outside, she exhaled with her whole body, and the walk back was a drastic change from the past few hours; quiet. She skipped dinner in the kitchen and trudged up the staircase in slow motion, ignoring how the attic creaked as we entered, the sound magnified in the silence.

Aven flipped on a single lamp and then stopped. She didn’t unpack her satchel, didn’t pull out the strange little objects and comforts she’d been arranging since she arrived. She stood there, hands clenched at her sides. I leaned against the nearest wall, fully visible, and watched her.

Unable to take it much longer, I finally spoke up. “I wish you would stop folding yourself up like that.”

She shook her head without meeting my gaze. “I have to if I want to stay alive.”

My shoulders pulled back, and my fingers flexed at the thought of her hurt. I understood why she felt that way, I did, but crushing herself into smaller shapes as a way to hide was only going to kill her more slowly.