Page 29 of Summertime Hexy
Which, of course, makes me think about Derek.
His coat. His scowl. The way he doesn’t talk, butsays everything. The way he looks at me like I’m both the forest fire and the spark that started it.
Rowan passes me a daisy sandwich.
Yes.
A sandwich made of actual daisies.
I bite into it. It tastes like sadness and yard clippings.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Huh? Oh. Totally. Just chewing.”
“You looked like you were somewhere else.”
I swallow. Barely. “Nope. Just vibing with this… floral flavor journey.”
More silence.
He tries to talk about mushroom folk politics. I nod along. I try to make a joke. He says, “I value your levity.” I try to laugh. He says, “That’s a beautiful expression of joy.”
By the time the sun starts to set, I’m three daisies deep and considering whether it would be socially acceptable to fake a sudden magical emergency.
Rowan smiles again. “This was wonderful.”
“Sure was,” I say, standing up a little too fast. “But I should get going. Magical creatures to wrangle. Spellflames to extinguish. Probably something is on fire.”
“Would you like to do this again?” he asks gently.
I pause.
Because Rowan is kind. And earnest. And he deserves someone who hears him talk about soul knots andcares.
But that someone’s not me.
“I think… maybe I’m a little hexed right now,” I say softly. “Emotionally. You know, energetically misaligned.”
He nods solemnly. “I honor your truth.”
I bolt.
And the worst part?
As I walk away, the only thing I can think is Derek would’ve hated that sandwich too.
CHAPTER 12
DEREK
Iused to think silence was peace.
That if I could just drown out the noise—the grief, the guilt, the ache—I could rebuild something in its place. Discipline. Distance. Control.
But silence isn’t peace.
Silence is a cage.
