Page 40 of Thirsty
Sincerely,
Wife or Longing Friend?
Dear WOLF,
If you’re asking the Crone, then yes, your feelings sound romantic—you’re thinking about running away with Xara, whether you’ve admitted that to yourself or not. You obviously care about her deeply, and that’s why I’m going to say: I think you should swallow your feelings, and not tell her.
I can understand what you’re going through. Sometimes our feelings change slowly, but sometimes it takes a major shock, like an engagement, to wake us up to what was there all along. You may have felt this way about Xara since your childhood together, and it took her meeting this wolf to make you see what was right in front of you.
But you can’t be careless with this. You didn’t mention in your letter how Xara feels about all of this. Have you talked to her about it? Is she happy in her relationship? How is she feeling about your sense of loss?
Xara could be in a good place right now, and if you’re not absolutely sure that she returns your feelings, you shouldn’t cause trouble. If this is only happening on your end, it would be selfish to risk destabilizing what should be a happy time for her. No matter what she is to you, you’re still her best friend.
I know it hurts to want what you shouldn’t have. Be strong.
Sincerely,
Crone
Chapter 11
Ithought we were going to meet some witches,” Charlie said.
“She is a witch,” Lorenzo replied. “More or less.”
Charlie looked skeptically at the house Lorenzo had brought him to—a little white bungalow that had seen better days, with a neon pink palm reader sign in the window. “So—fortune tellers are witches?” he asked.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What does that mean?”
Lorenzo led him to the front door, looming over him the entire time. He’d started doing that lately, at these supernatural outings—moving around Charlie like his bodyguard, always close and connected. “Shh,” he said, ringing the doorbell. “Don’t be rude.”
Charlie bit back a smile.
He tried to ignore the swell of guilt that accompanied it. He loved going on these outings with Lorenzo and learning about all these new communities—aside from being fun, it was extraordinarily helpful. He couldn’t quite believe it, butWise OldCronewas still doing well; in fact, she’d been doing so well for so long now that he was actually starting to believe that he might have saved his job. Last week’s column had even been popular enough that he’d gotten a congratulatory note from the new owners, with all the warmth and wit of something written by ChatGPT. Ava had sent him a separate message saying that he should come into the office to meet with them, to pump up their enthusiasm, maybe even try to persuade them to invest more in the column. He’d brushed her off.
As far as he was concerned, if the column was doing well, he should just keep doing what he’d been doing: touring Brookville’s supernatural scene with Lorenzo and annoying the crap out of him the entire time. He had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t just everything he was learning that was contributing to the column’s success; it’s that he was enjoying himself.
He just had to deal with the nagging guilt of his enormous lie. It wasn’t even that enormous; it was a small lie, really. A minor detail about his...true life and intentions. But a small lie, nonetheless.
He had a feeling Lorenzo wouldn’t see it that way.
He snuck a glance at Lorenzo as they waited at the door. He seemed as brooding as ever, but lately, Charlie had been wondering if that was all that was going on with him. He was so attentive on these outings, so ready to joust with Charlie. Maybe to flirt with him.
He didn’t need to go there. He didn’t even know if Lorenzo was into men.
Still, as they lingered on the doorstep, he couldn’t help but eye him, wondering if the vibe he’d been getting was only on his end.
His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened,revealing a small, stooped woman with an enormous cloud of curly black hair. She wore plain, comfy-looking black clothes, huge, colorful jewelry at her wrists and neck, and a face full of tropical-colored makeup. She could have been fifty or a hundred and fifty. “Lorenzo!” she cried in a husky, ravaged voice that immediately made Charlie like her. “Thank Satan you’re here.”
“Thank Satan?” Charlie asked Lorenzo pointedly.
Lorenzo had a look of weary resignation. “Hello, Roberta.”
“And this is the human companion you mentioned? Charmed,” she said, holding a hand out to Charlie. Her long acrylic nails had Ouija symbols inked onto them.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “Thank you for having us over.”
