Page 34 of Magical Melee
As I turned to leave, I glanced back one last time at the statue of Miora, feeling a spark of recognition, of kinship. Frank trotted next to me, and I realized Nova had no intention of following.
I slipped out of the garden, retracing my steps toward the alley and my hotel. The town was silent but alive. I could feelStonewick’s presence all around me as if it were watching and waiting. I glanced up at the gargoyles and shook my head.
There was something about this trip I needed, even if I never returned here again.
As I walked through the lobby and up the stairs with Frank by my side, I quietly crept into the hotel room. Frank wouldn’t come in. He just turned around and sat next to the door again.
I shook my head and smiled.
But it wasn’t until my eyes flew open and I was staring at the ceiling that I realized it had all been a dream.
Chapter Eight
I awoke to a sunbeam slicing through the hotel room’s thick curtains. A golden light slid across the ceiling from a gap we’d forgotten to close last night.
For a few moments, I lay there, completely disoriented. A lingering weight in my chest kept me anchored to the bed as details of my dream started to emerge piece by piece.
It felt as if the night hadn’t passed at all. Instead, I was certain I’d been wandering through Stonewick’s streets just moments before.
My hand still tingled with the memory of touching the statue’s stone surface, and I could practically feel Frank’s unwavering presence at my side.
I turned over to see Skye, already dressed and perched on the edge of her bed, flipping through her phone.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” she chirped, looking up with a grin. “You better hurry and get ready! Our knitting class starts in an hour, and then Patrick is coming to pick me up.” Her face softened at the mention of her husband, and for a moment, I felt a pang of longing, though I quickly pushed it away.
There was nothing about Alex that should make me long for anything.
“Knitting class… right,” I muttered, sitting up and rubbing my temples, still half-trapped in the remnants of my strange dream. “You’re sure we signed up for that?”
Skye laughed, tossing a pillow my way. “Oh, you bet we did! It’s at that cute little fiber shop we passed, the one with the orange door. Besides, you need a new hobby now, right?”
I gave her a look, but the truth was, she wasn’t wrong. Since the divorce, I’d felt adrift, like everything I’d known and worked toward had been wiped clean, leaving me with an open but intimidating blank page.
Knitting… Well, it wasn’t the worst thing to try. I’d just have to ignore the fact that I’d always been all thumbs and try not to tangle my yarn.
Celeste would certainly be impressed with a handmade scarf for Christmas.
“Okay. I’m game,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and stretching, trying to shake off last night's foggy memories.
As I brushed my teeth, showered and dressed, flashes of the dream kept creeping back in—the feeling of being watched by ancient statues, the low hum of the town as if it were alive, breathing, waiting. The vine caressing me…
And Nova.
That part stuck with me the most.
But I shook myself out of it. This morning was about knitting with my BFF. Since the divorce, I specialized in leggingsand oversized sweaters to hide the fact that I’d found some new BFFs in my pantry.
“Did you sleep okay?” Skye asked as I joined her by the door.
“It was an okay sleep. I haven’t really been doing great since Celeste left.”
Skye tilted her head curiously. “You look like you saw a ghost or something.”
I managed a laugh, though it sounded weaker than I’d intended. “Something like that. I had this… dream.” I hesitated, unsure if I should tell her.
Skye, who’d stuck by my side through thick and thin, knew all my quirks, but even this felt a bit out there. Obviously, since the divorce I didn’t know if I was coming or going most days, but this would really throw her for a loop.
“Oh, now you have to spill,” she said, nudging my shoulder as we stepped into the hallway.
