Page 25 of De-Witched

But she couldn’t abandon him to her world. It just wasn’t in her to be that callous, not even if he was only suffering all this for control of a business.

It might not be smart but she’d chosen her path and she didn’t sway from it.

“Fine,” Tia eventually snapped, conceding with a bad-tempered glower. “We’ll trust you.”

“Thank you.”

The witch held up a finger. “On one condition.” Tia’s eyes gleamed like Ralph’s as he watched them from on high. “Please let me be the one to fire him.”

7

Gabriel’s fingers curled at his sides as he strove for outer detachment. Behind him, the sounds of a midweek afternoon at the bar played out: the hum of the TV and its insipid sports game, the murmur of humans discussing the weather or other inanities, the clink of glasses and the occasional laugh.

He felt like it was being directed at him, the laughter, as he stood before an actual firing squad. Fired. He was being fired.

His eyes burned as he glanced from Tia to Emmaline to Leah. The latter didn’t give anything away, the hint of a tattoo teasing from the slouchy neckline of a too-large sweater. She hadn’t mentioned the sweatshirt he’d returned or the money all week, and now let Tia take the lead—which she did with far too much delight, practically cackling as she handed him his last check.

He hated that he’d sought Leah out, unable to help it. Was this her idea? Had the money, the note, prompted this, made her mad at him?

The sensation that uncoiled in his chest was not something he liked.

“I know it’s been rough,” he said, smoothing his thumb over his signet ring. Failure, failure, failure, his inner voice taunted. “I’ll get better. There’s never been anything I couldn’t master.”

“And if our reputation wasn’t going down the toilet because of you, that might work.” Tia stared coolly back. “We can’t afford to keep you on. You’re costing us business.”

He absorbed the vocal slap without a blink. Inside, mortification squeezed his insides to jelly. His skin grew warm.

“You know I need this job.” His voice was quiet, steady.

“You need a job,” Emmaline corrected, her tone apologetic. She fiddled with her engagement band, color in her cheeks. “Leah has the solution.”

He should’ve seen that coming.

He held his complaints back as she explained about her animal shelter, how they could use a body to fill the gaps. Walk the animals, odd jobs, cleaning, light reception duties if he improved his customer service—this said with the familiar smirk he’d barely seen recently. She’d been civil all week on the few shifts they’d worked together.

He’d been pleased, of course. He didn’t want her poking at him, teasing, laughing, playing. And yet he’d been edgier from the lack, every night lying in bed going over the memory of her taking the blame for him. Standing up for him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had.

Of course, none of that mattered now.

Statements of fact, refusals, reasons why he’d be better served in the bar he barely tolerated rose to his lips but he bit them back. He’d been in business long enough to be able to read people. And the three implacable faces staring back at him were united.

If the company wasn’t on the line, he would’ve refused their charity. He detested that he needed their help, but he did. So, he buttoned his lips, gave them a brusque nod and made to leave. His exit was interrupted by—who else—Leah, who piped up that she’d see him bright and early at the shelter before giving him the address.

And now, adding the cherry to this shit sundae, his sister seemed to find this latest twist knee-slappingly hilarious.

He’d begged his parents for a brother...

He tuned out Melly’s giggles and thanked Mrs. Q as she patted his shoulder, her ruddy cheeks beaming as she left them to perfectly cooked rosemary lamb and crispy potatoes. He inhaled the scent and felt like weeping at the home-cooked meal. The visit had been just what he needed and since Melly had created the portal for him so he could come home, he’d let her snigger for a solid five minutes without interrupting.

With keen attention he cut a slice of lamb and lifted it to his lips, giving his sister a bored stare. “Are you through?”

Merriment made her eyes sparkle. “I’m sorry, I know this must be hell to you, but now animals? I’ve never even seen you stroke Uncle August’s familiar, let alone any other pet.”

Since August’s familiar was a hawk, Gabriel felt his reticence was understandable.

Across from Melly at the laden table, August surveyed Gabriel over his wineglass. His eyebrows were drawn, mimicking his pursed mouth.

“And you’re sure this is the best job you can find?” he questioned. “There isn’t an office somewhere more your style?”

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