Page 105 of Charmed, I'm Sure
Swallowing hard, I took a fortifying breath and lifted the lid the rest of the way.
Nestled inside, on a bed of black silk, lay a dozen long-stemmed, wilted roses. Their petals were coated in dirt and something else—something that made my stomach churn. Tiny movements caught my eye.Something was crawling in the soil.
A strangled noise scraped up my throat. I threw my door open and flung the offendinggiftto the ground as I dry heaved.
Sweat dampened my brow as I braced myself against the car, breath coming in ragged pants.Who the hell would do something like that?
Anger surged, hot and blinding. My jaw ached from clenching my teeth, from swallowing back the tears that were fighting to get free.
With a growl, I reached down to grab the lid from where it had landed in the footwell. I was about to chuck it out the door with the rest of thatdisgustinggift—
Then I saw it.
A slip of paper, tucked beneath the ribbon.
You should throw it away.
But I didn’t.
Jaw tight, I yanked out the note and tossed the lid onto the pavement. Someone else could deal with that mess. Iwasn’ttouching it again.
Shutting my eyes, I took a deep breath and unfolded the paper.
Bonfire Night is coming.
And last time I checked, witches make great kindling.
My breath caught in my throat. My stomach twisted, nausea rising again.
Bonfire Night was supposed to beinnocent. A Southern tradition, where fires lined the Mississippi to light Papa Noël’s way. And with one hastily scrawled message, someone had stolen that innocence.
We hadn’t even made our relationship public and it was already starting.
A disbelieving laugh bubbled up my throat, a lone tear streaking down my cheek.
Then my car speakers chimed with Taylor’s reply.
Taylor
Wasn’t me, sunshine. But if I’ve got competition, let me know. *winking emoji*
Can’t wait to see you tonight.
28
Southern winter wonderland
Taylor
GrowingupinBellevue,I’d never been one to get excited about the Winter Festival. The glittering lights suspended from poles, zigzagging across the square before coalescing at the gazebo in the center, never filled me with the joy they seemed to bring others. I didn’t understand the need for sparkling snowflakes, garland draped with baubles, or the craving for the copious amount of sweets that lined the streets, their scents wafting from the tents and thickening the air.
It never made any sense to me. Didn’t strike me as a necessary experience to be had every. Single. Year.
Until I saw the joy this time of year brought Magnolia.
I’d never forget her excited skips through the rows of Douglas firs as she scoped out each one in search of what she deemed perfection. Or the way her eyes would flutter closed as she broke off a few needles and inhaled their piney scent. How the Christmas lights she’d convinced me to hang sparkled in her aqua-blue eyes as we swung on my porch, or the sound of her laughter as she twirled to ridiculous Christmas songs while we hung ornaments on my tree.
She’d shown me what Christmas meant to her. And, in turn, the joy she bared for the holiday had begun to seep into my Scrooge-like heart.
