Page 9 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

My hands tremble as I break the seal. The parchment unfolds, revealing Seamus’s familiar handwriting of elegant loops and flourishes that always reminded me of Celtic knotwork.

My dearest Bella,

By the time you find this letter, I’ll be gone. I know that’s not fair to you, and I know you deserve better. You deserve someone who can promise you forever without reservations or complications. You deserve someone who can put you first, always.

The truth is, my family has summoned me home. There’s been talk of instability in the fae realms and borders weakening between worlds. As the eldest son, I’m expected to take my place in the family business, to uphold traditions that go back centuries. Traditions that don’t include relationships with human witches, no matter how extraordinary that human might be.

I wish I could be brave enough to defy them, to choose my own path without regard for the consequences, but the magic that binds our families is old and powerful, and the repercussions would extend beyond just me. My siblings, my cousins—all would bear consequences of my choices.

So I’m taking the coward’s way out. I’m leaving while I still have the strength to do so, before your smile and your laugh and the way your eyes change color with your mood convince me to stay despite everything.

Know that these months with you have been the happiest of my very long life. Know that if circumstances were different, I would have knelt before you with my family’s ring and asked you to share in my unnaturally long leprechaun lifespan. Know that wherever I go, whatever I do, a piece of my heart will always remain in Evershift Haven, with the witch who taught me that magic isn’t just about spells and enchantments—it’s about connections that defy explanation.

I’m sorry, my love. I’m so very sorry.

Forever yours, Seamus

P.S. I’ve left something for you in our special place, where petals bloom and memories fade, where we first danced under the stars. A small token to remember me by, though I hope you’ll remember the good times rather than this painful ending.

I lower the letter, my vision blurred with unshed tears. Two years. For two years I’d believed he’d simply grown tired of me, of us, of our life together. For two years I’d nursed my anger and hurt, building walls around my heart.

“You never read the letter?” Hecate side-eyes me. “Girl, even I know that’s a rookie mistake.”

“I didn’t even know it was here,” I say, wiping at my eyes. “How was I supposed to know he’d hide a goodbye letter in a book?”

Hecate snorts, her tiny nose wrinkling. “Men. Always thinking they’re so clever with their grand romantic gestures.” She disappears suddenly, her form shimmering out of existence. Her voice lingers in the air. “Letting the drama unfold properly.”

I stare at the empty space where she was, then back at the letter in my hands. The truth of Seamus’s departure changes everything and nothing. He still left. He still chose his family’s demands over us, over me. He still didn’t trust me enough to face me, to tell me the truth directly.

“Bella?”

I freeze at the sound of his voice. Slowly, I turn to see him standing in the doorway of the reading nook. His wild red hair is tied back, revealing the sharp angles of his face and the pointed tips of his ears. His gaze locks onto the parchment in my hands, and comprehension appears in his eyes. “You found it,” he says softly, taking a step toward me. “After all this time.”

I hold up the letter. “You hid your goodbye in a book? A book, Seamus? What kind of coward does that?”

He winces, running a hand through his hair. “I know it was a poor choice. I was desperate and scared. The binding spell was already taking effect. I could feel it pulling me back to the fae realm. I thought the book would find you quickly.”

“Well, it didn’t.” I fold the letter carefully, slipping it back between the pages of the book. “Two years, Seamus. Two years of thinking you just didn’t care enough to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.” He takes another step closer. “I should have found a way to tell you face to face. I was a coward.”

“Yes, you were.” I stand up, clutching the book to my chest. “And now you’re back, and your gold is missing, and someone is sending us on this wild goose chase around town. What am I supposed to make of all this?”

Seamus opens his mouth to respond when a pillow flies across the room and smacks him directly in the face.

“No leprechauns allowed in my reading nook.” Lady Winifred’s voice booms through the library. Another pillow sails through the air, hitting Seamus in the back of the head.

“Lady Winifred, please,” he protests, ducking as a third pillow whizzes past his ear. “I’m trying to have an important conversation here.”

“Should have thought of that before you left your farewell in a book, you inconsiderate leprechaun.” Another pillow catches him square in the chest.

Despite everything, I find myself fighting back a smile. There’s something deeply satisfying about watching Seamus dodge flying pillows while trying to maintain his dignity.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere.” Seamus shields his face from an incoming cushion.

“Not until I finish what I came here for.” I open the book again, flipping through the pages. There has to be more. The clue that led us here mentioned finding the next step of our treasure hunt.

As I turn to the chapter on leprechaun gold, something flutters out—a small card with elegant script written in shimmering ink. The second clue.

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