Page 68 of Hexes and Exes

“And something to eat.” Ambrose looks over at Piper. Her shoulders are slumped, head hanging.

“I’m not hungry.” Honestly, I’d prefer to scream into the woods than go discuss our feelings, which I know is what’s about to happen.

Ava jogs up to my side, her hand pressing into my back. I glance at her briefly before focusing on the ground. Short headstones pop up through the snow occasionally, and I’d like to avoid bashing my shin against one. “I’m not in the mood for company.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t need to go brood in the woods by yourself. And we need to sit down together and talk about what the fuck just happened.”

How does she know me this well? An uncomfortable ache burns low in my chest. She’s getting too close. We’re just supposed to be casual, and it’s quickly veering far away from the relaxed situation we agreed on.

I’m fucked. I’m not going to be lucky like my brother and magically lose my curse. My mother died from her curse and yet I still have one of my own. There is no cure or miracle waiting for me. I should put more distance between us.

“What do we need to discuss? How we’ve been lied to our whole lives?”

The snow crunches beneath my boots, and my breath streams out in a cloud of fog. Ava sniffs, but I don’t know if it’s because of the cold or if it’s because she’s upset.

“Some of us need to talk shit out to debrief. Can you stop walking so fast?” Ava hooks her hand through my arm and tugs.

“It’s not my fault you’re so short.”

“I’m not that short. Stop running away.”

I turn and face her. I’m not sure what’s about to come out of my mouth, but I snap it shut. Everyone has stopped walking and they’re all staring at us. Whatever we’re doing is just between the two of us. I don’t need the peanut gallery watching.

“Fine, let’s go.”

Our options for a quiet place to get food and warm up are very limited at this time of night. Marnie’s diner is lifted straight out of the fifties. The inside is decked out with black-and-white checkered floor, and red vinyl booths with chrome-sided tables and Formica tops. There’s a jukebox in the corner that is playing an Elvis tune when we walk inside. One employee, wearing a green waitress uniform with a name Flo stitched across the left side of her chest, is leaning on the counter and scrolling on her phone.

There’s no way her name is actually Flo. She sighs as her eyes drift over the eight of us. I’d guess she doesn’t get a lot of sober customers at two-thirty in the morning.

We push together two tables and sit four on each side. Roman is next to me, then Josephine and Piper. On the other side of the table across from me is Ava, next to her is Stellan, Odie, and then Ambrose.

The waitress slaps some water down onto our table and pulls a pencil from behind her ear. “We’re all out of soup. There’s no special tonight. Oh, and there’s no onion rings or mozzarella sticks either. I’ll give you some time.”

Before anyone can even get in a word Flo disappears to the back where there’s a cook making a lot of noise, which is surprising since we’re the only people in the restaurant. It’s not like he’s cooking food for other people.

“We’re here. What do we need to discuss?”

My brother turns and gives me a dirty look. “I think we need to make sure we all heard the same thing in there.”

“You think the skeleton cast a spell and told us all something different?”

Ava kicks me under the table. “Why are you so angry? We’re all in the same boat here. Stop being an asshole.”

Stellan lifts his hand for a high five, but Ava grabs his wrist and yanks his arm back down.

“What I heard is that our parents did a ritual to pass their curses on to us and that it’s not a generation curse. They chose this for us,” Piper says softly. Her skin is pale underneath the bright lights of the diner. Even her red hair seems dimmer.

“That’s what I got from the asshole as well,” Romans says, and the rest of the table nods.

“That doesn’t make sense.” I shake my head, reaching for a sugar packet for something to do with my hands. I flip it around, tapping each edge on the table. “My mother died with her curse intact, and I still have a curse.”

“But our father doesn’t have one anymore,” Roman points out, but he doesn’t sound certain.

“And you’re the firstborn.” The longer we talk, the more heated my words become.

“The firstborn with Roman’s mom,” Josephine adds sheepishly.

“That can’t be the loophole. Are you fucking kidding me.” I slap the sugar against the table and the packet explodes, grains of sweetener skittering across the tabletop.

---