Page 18 of Witch's Promise

As his family bustled about, setting the table and bringing out dishes that smelled like home and childhood, Gabe felt theknot in his chest loosen slightly. But Sean's name echoed in his mind, a reminder of the past he couldn't quite escape, even here.

Gabe helped set the table, the familiar routine grounding him. As they settled in to eat, the conversation flowing more easily now, he tried to push thoughts of Sean aside. He was here for his family, for his dad's birthday. Everything else could wait.

Chapter 5

Sean

The bell above the door chimed softly as Sean pushed his way into "Petal Pushers," the scent of flowers washing over him like a comforting embrace. It was a familiar ritual, one he'd performed countless times over the years. The shop's interior was a riot of colors and fragrances, but Sean's eyes automatically sought out the pristine white tulips nestled in a corner display.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer," a warm voice called out. Mrs. Landry, the shop's owner, emerged from behind a veritable wall of sunflowers, her smile as bright as the blooms surrounding her. "The usual, I presume?"

Sean managed a small smile in return, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know me too well, Mrs. L. How's business?"

As Mrs. Landry bustled about, expertly arranging the tulips into a bouquet, she launched into a cheerful update on the shop's latest happenings. Sean listened with half an ear, grateful for the familiar patter of conversation that required little input from him. It was easier this way, to let the words wash over him without having to engage too deeply.

"There you are, dear," Mrs. Landry said, presenting him with the finished bouquet. The white tulips were perfect, as always,their petals unblemished and softly luminous. "Give her our love, won't you?"

Sean's throat tightened. He nodded, not trusting his voice. Mrs. Landry's kindness, her tacit understanding of his weekly pilgrimage, sometimes felt like more than he deserved.

As he paid and turned to leave, Mr. Landry appeared from the back room. "Sean, my boy! How are you holding up? You know, if you ever need a job, we could always use an extra pair of hands around here."

Sean forced another smile, shaking his head. "Thanks, Mr. L, but I'm doing okay. Just taking it day by day, you know?"

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He wasn't okay. Hadn't been okay for a long time. But it was easier to pretend, to keep the world at arm's length rather than let anyone see the mess he'd become.

With a final wave, Sean stepped back out into the Salem sunshine. The contrast between the shop's peaceful interior and the bustling street was jarring, and for a moment, Sean felt unmoored, adrift in a sea of normalcy he no longer belonged to.

Shaking off the feeling, he made his way to where his motorcycle was parked. The sleek black machine was one of the few indulgences he allowed himself, a remnant of a life he'd left behind. As he swung his leg over the seat, carefully settling the bouquet in front of him, Sean felt some of the tension leave his body. Out here, on the open road, he could outrun his demons. At least for a little while.

The engine roared to life, drowning out the cacophony of his thoughts. Sean eased into traffic, muscle memory guiding him through the familiar streets of Salem. It was strange, how a place could feel like home and a foreign country at the same time. Every corner held a memory, some good, some not so much.

As Sean navigated the winding roads leading out of town, his mind drifted back to that day when his world had shattered.He'd been ten, a scrawny kid with too much attitude and not enough sense. The memory hit him like a sucker punch, as vivid and painful as if it had happened yesterday.

He'd come home from school, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder, ready to regale his mother with tales of his latest adventures. But instead of her warm smile and the smell of freshly baked cookies, he'd found his father standing in the kitchen, face ashen and eyes hard.

"Your mother's gone, Sean," his father had said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Heart attack. There was nothing they could do."

The words hadn't made sense at first. Mom, gone? But she'd been fine that morning, laughing as she packed his lunch, promising to take him to the park after school. How could she just be gone?

In the days that followed, Sean had watched his father go through the motions of grief. The funeral arrangements, the consoling phone calls, the steady stream of casseroles from well-meaning neighbors. But something had been off, a discord in the symphony of sorrow that Sean couldn't quite put his finger on.

It wasn't until years later, when Sean had learned the true nature of the Drake family business, that the pieces started to fall into place. The faint smell of ozone that had lingered in the house that day. The way his father's eyes never quite met his when he spoke of his mother’s death. The hushed conversations that stopped abruptly whenever Sean entered a room.

Had it really been a heart attack? Or had his mother stumbled upon something she wasn't meant to see, learned a truth about her husband that she couldn't live with?

Sean gripped the handlebars tighter, pushing the bike faster as if he could outrun the doubts that plagued him. He'd never confronted his father about his suspicions. Part of him was afraid of what he might learn, afraid that the fragile relationshipthey'd rebuilt over the years would crumble under the weight of the truth.

The pavement gave way to a dirt road, the bike's suspension working overtime as Sean navigated the bumpy terrain. The forest closed in around him, branches reaching out like gnarled fingers, scraping against his leather jacket. It was a fitting gateway, Sean thought, to the sanctuary that lay beyond.

Finally, the trees parted, revealing a small clearing bathed in dappled sunlight. In the center, surrounded by a riot of wildflowers, stood a simple stone marker. Sean cut the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. For a moment, he just sat there, drinking in the peacefulness of the place.

This was where Elaine Drake had chosen to rest, a secluded spot in the heart of the forest she'd loved so much. Sean remembered the day they'd buried her here, how he'd clung to his father's hand as the druid priestess had performed the ritual. Even then, lost in his grief, he'd understood why this place was perfect. His mother had been a druid, more at home among the trees and flowers than in any man-made structure.

Sean dismounted, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. He approached the grave marker, tulips clutched in one hand, and knelt before it. Gently, he began to clear away the debris that had accumulated since his last visit leaves and twigs and the general detritus of the forest floor.

"Hey, Mom," he said softly, placing the tulips at the base of the stone. "Sorry it's been a while."

A gentle breeze rustled through the clearing, caressing Sean's cheek like a mother's touch. He closed his eyes, remembering his mother's words:"If you ever want to talk to me, just feel the earth beneath you, and I'll be there."

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