Page 91 of Hex and the Kitty

“That’s quite a statement from someone who’s seen empires rise and fall.”

“It’s the truth.” His golden eyes held hers, unwavering. “I can’t imagine this town without you in it, Molly. I can’t imagine my life without you beside me.”

Words failed her momentarily. Instead, she rose to press her lips to his, pouring into the kiss everything she couldn’t articulate—gratitude, wonder, and the bone-deep certainty that this was exactly where she belonged.

The kiss deepened as Warrick’s arms encircled her, drawing her more firmly against him. His hand cradled the back of her head with exquisite gentleness, mindful of her healing injury even in passion. When they finally parted, Molly remained in the circle of his embrace, her head tucked beneath his chin.

They sat in comfortable silence as stars emerged, bright pinpricks against the darkening sky. Crickets chirped in the garden. A nightjar called from nearby woods.

“I should check on the bakery,” Molly said eventually, reluctant to break the peaceful moment. “I left some specialty orders cooling, and I need to prep for tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive you,” Warrick offered immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You don’t have to. I can walk—it’s a lovely night.”

“I know I don’t have to.” He stood, pulling her gently to her feet and into his arms. “I want to.”

The drive downtown took less than ten minutes. Main Street glowed with old-fashioned lamplights, most shops closed for the evening. The Bewitched Bakery stood dark except for a single light in the back kitchen—exactly as Molly had left it.

When she stepped out of the vehicle, a youthful cry came from down the street.

On the sidewalk half a block up, a child was crumpled on the concrete. Molly and Warrick took off running toward the child.

“Hey,” Molly called out, “you okay?”

A boy around eight years old, looked up with tears in his eyes. His knee was scraped and bleeding. Molly noted he had roller skates on.

“I fell and hurt my leg.” He sniffled.

Molly’s shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath, relieved that this wasn’t something life-altering.

“You poor thing.” She knelt beside him. “Let me see.”

“Molly,” Warrick said, “I’ll go ahead and open the shop while you take care of your patient.” She handed him the keys then turned back to the boy.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She gently pried the small hand from around his knee. The scrape wasn’t terrible, but she was sure it still hurt.

“What’s your name, young man?” she asked as she took a wipe from her purse and cleaned the wound.

“Brigg,” he replied with a sniffle.

“Have you been skating long, Brigg?”

“My whole life,” he said.

She chuckled thinking that he sounded like an old man instead of a youth. She pressed the wipe to the scrape.

Her hands warmed with a bit of healing magic. “Well, I think we got this under control. You’re going to be okay.” She began to stand and the boy grabbed her hand.

“Wait. You can’t go yet!” he said in a slightly panicked voice.

She didn’t understand his worry. “Why not?”

His eyes were big and she could tell he was thinking hard. “I-I can’t tell you.”

Her head tilted. “Can’t tell me what?”

“It’s a secret.”

---