Page 54 of Haunt Me, Maybe

“You already do.”

Fucking duh, Wes. God, I was an idiot.

She shook her head. “I mean—I want to know. I’ve never seen—” She stopped, too flustered to make sense, but I had a very strong idea I knew what she was hinting at. After a deep breath, she met my eyes again. “I just…want to.”

My mind immediately flashed back to that night in the attic bathroom; her hands trembling but ambitious. I knew exactly what she wanted to touch, and holy fucking shit did I want her to touch it too. Far be it from me to deny her curiosity.

Still, I needed to make sure I remained in control the whole time. No blowing my load on her cute, fuzzy socks. If I wasn’t careful, I would scare her away before I got another chance to make her feel good.

I leaned in and rested my forehead against hers. “You can do whatever you want to me,” I told her. “We’ll go slow.”

Both for her sake and mine.

The rest of the shift passed in a blur of restrained annoyance—shitface hadn’t left—and brutal anticipation, all with an undercurrent of…Dare I say happiness? Aven smiled at customers and laughed at their jokes. She handed out pastries and compliments. It was progress. Perfect. Until that damn guy got up, parked himself at the end of the counter, and leaned a little too close.

A shelf slid itself between them with ghostly force. Shitface jumped back, eyes comically large as he looked around for what could have possibly moved a shelf. Off the wall. With no one standing near it. The guy stumbled away and out the door without another word or look at my girl, and my grin was damn near uncontrollable. At least, until Aven whirled around.

“You’re ridiculous,” she whisper-shouted, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

“You were the one flirting.”

I had warned her shitface was interested. Not my fault if he needed a more solid hint. Aven pointed her finger at the shelf, and I moved it back into place with a sigh. Not a single mug was disturbed. Would it kill her to recognize how smooth that was?

“You know, you could be less…dramatic.”

She had her back to me once more, but I felt the smile in her tone. Drying an already spotless mug, she couldn’t see the way the cabinet behind her shuddered. A brisk breeze blew cold air across the nape of her neck, and she didn’t even acknowledge it. No reaction but a slight shiver.

He’s considering throwing that teacup.

I set the fragile porcelain down none too gently and spun to face the pompous toad now sitting in the pastry case. Where the hell had he come from?

“I hate when you do that!” I growled, trying not to take his smirk personally. “Aren’t you supposed to be grounding or something?”

That smirk turned into a glare, and he swallowed a cinnamon bun whole before answering.

Not that it’s any of your business, but the cold reached me even in my burrow, and I found it irritating enough to warrant a break. He wiggled his body in a way that reminded me of ruffling feathers. I’ll have to return soon.

“What a shame,” I said, managing to keep a blank face.

Aven ignored us both, used to our spats by now. The banter was definitely more entertaining than dealing with shitface, but it couldn’t last forever. Let us go too long, and it eventually turned into an all-out brawl that resulted in broken furniture and weird acts of nature.

The harsh ding of a bell sounded through the café, and all eyes turned toward the middle of the room where Briony stood with yet another flyer. Did that girl own a printing press?

“Listen up, everyone! This is a quick reminder about the town meeting later this week.” Chairs squeaked as people turned to listen, and the kitchen quieted until Briony was easier to hear. “Nothing out of the ordinary, mainly festival planning. But they will also be addressing the recent concerns.”

Aven stilled, mug and rag forgotten in her hands as she gave all her attention to her friend.

“What concerns?” Someone asked from near the bookshelves.

Briony frowned and double-checked the flyer before shrugging. “I’m assuming the same things we’ve all been hearing; crop rot out by the farms. Dead birds. Those weird patterns in the hay bales.”

The café broke out into a flurry of separate conversations all about the same topic. I tried to follow a few of them, but my attention was mostly on Aven. I felt it before I saw it—her magic pulled tight, like a breath held before a scream. Just like that, she folded in on herself and didn’t say another word.

I tried teasing her again. Even stared at Fenn and was a desperate second away from begging him to do something, but he shook his head and told me to let her be. How could he take it? It was killing me to see her like this, after how far she’d come. The walk back to the inn was just as horrible. Quiet and stressful, and so far from the joy we’d captured these last few days. I tried once more to reach her.

“Aven.”

Fucking nothing. It was like she was scared to open her mouth and speak. Like she was worried whatever fell out right now would set the end of the world in motion. It wasn’t until we were back in the attic, behind the soft buzzing of recently touched-up wards, that Aven’s shoulders fell from her ears.