Page 5 of Scr*wed By the Minotaur in Hallow's Cove
We both blinked.
I cleared my throat. “So, what brings you to Hallow’s Cove?”
“Needed to get away. The city’s... a lot. Work, noise, people. I thought I’d come someplace quiet to breathe.”
I nodded. “You picked the right spot. Cell coverage is terrible, and the Wi-Fi’s a joke. Great for vanishing.”
“Exactly what I wanted.”
Beth and Randy drifted away somewhere mid-conversation, and we didn’t even notice. The two of us sat down at a high-top, and she asked about the town, how I ended up here, what it was like to live among monsters.
“I didn’t grow up here,” I explained. “But my grandparents did. After my parents died, they raised me. Gave me everything, even when I didn’t know how to ask for it. I guess I came back to Hallow’s Cove because I wanted a quiet life. Something I could build on my own.”
She looked at me differently then—not with pity or fascination, but with understanding. Like she knew what it meant to lose something and start over.
“That’s really beautiful,” she said softly. “I think that’s kind of what I’m doing too. Starting over.”
When her drink was nearly gone, I offered to get another. Her order caught me off guard.
“A snakebite?” I echoed, raising a brow.
She shrugged with a smile. “I dated a Brit in college. Picked up the habit.”
I went to the bar, half-smiling to myself. A woman who drinks snakebites and doesn’t blink at a seven-foot minotaur? Dangerous combination.
When I returned, she accepted the pint with a grateful nod, our fingers brushing for a second too long.
Lea’s eyes floated over the crowd, then back to me. “So if you grew up somewhere else, what did little Rick want to be before he ran a hardware store?”
I snorted. “Little Rick wanted to be a professional wrestler. My grandpa had all these old tapes—guys in leotards and masks jumping off ropes. I’d practice suplexes on bags of mulch out back until I split them open. He’d make me sweep it up. Said if I was gonna make a mess, I’d better learn how to clean it.” I shrugged. “Didn’t pan out. Turns out I hate spandex.”
Lea grinned, leaning in. “But you still get to lift heavy things all day and boss people around. Living the dream.”
“Exactly. And the dress code’s more forgiving.”
She rolled the glass between her palms. “I always wanted to be an artist. My mom said I started drawing before I could walk. Family legend says I accidentally customized our living room walls with permanent marker at age three.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, picturing her as a curly-haired toddler, joyfully vandalizing her home. “Bet your mom was thrilled.”
“Oh, she was delighted,” Lea said, deadpan. “Said it added character. She framed a chunk of the wallpaper, actually. She was sentimental like that.”
“Sounds like a good mom.”
“She was.” The words came out soft, wistful, and she glanced away, clutching her glass. “Sorry. I keep doing that thing where I talk about her like she’s still around. She passed last year”
“I get it.” Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I reached across the table, covering her hand with mine. Her skin was warm, her pulse thumping steady beneath my thumb. “Sometimes I still talk about my parents in the present tense. Feels less weird than saying ‘were’ all the time.”
Lea’s lips curved, slow and grateful, like the compliment wasn’t about her but about something she used to belong to. Her hand stayed where it was, under mine, and I realized I didn’t want to pull away. In a room full of people, we’d managed to make our own quiet corner. I liked that.
She cleared her throat. “So, what do minotaurs do for fun in a place like this, other than wrestle and terrorize new girls at the diner?”
“Oh, the usual,” I replied, straight-faced. “We stampede through the farmers market, devour hay bales, and challenge tourists to feats of strength. Sometimes, if we’re feeling really wild, we reenact famous labyrinth scenes for the elementary school.”
She snorted, nearly losing her beer. “I’d bet money you were in marching band, not football.”
“Wrong on both counts,” I said with a wink. “Debate club. National champion, two years running. I even went to State. Turns out, when you’re the loudest kid in the room and half the judges are terrified of you, you rack up trophies quick.”
Lea actually clapped, the sound ringing out above the low hum of the crowd. “I can see it. You’ve got a definite, like… ‘Order in the court!’ vibe.”
