Page 113 of Charmed, I'm Sure
Chuckling to myself, I sat down at the table, popped open the clamshell, and inhaled the buttery, sweet scent of raspberry jam. Maybe I was just really hungry, but the moan that rumbled up my throat at the first bite was damn near pornographic. They might not have been as good as mine, but I’d be damned if a free pastry didn’t taste just as sweet.
I’d just popped the last bite of my third one into my mouth when my phone vibrated against the table, followed by the unmistakable chorus ofMs. Jackson. I let it play for a beat before swiping to answer.
“Hey, Jae. What’s up?”
“Uh, hey, Mags.” Her voice was uneven. “I, uh. I don’t know how to tell you this, but you need to get down toCharCutie.”
Red and blue lights strobed through the front ofCharCutie, casting flickering shadows against the shattered shards of glass littering the black-and-white tile and spilling onto the sidewalk outside. Tiny fragments, like crushed diamonds, reflected in the fluorescent lights and early evening sun, crunching beneath my heel as I stepped forward.
All that time. All that hard work and love I’d poured into this place—fractured and broken, much like the decimated front windows.
I hadn’t even planned on coming in today. Jaelyn was scheduled to open around lunch. But when she arrived, this was what she’d found.
Bricks through my motherfucking windows.
Not just one or two—all fourof the massive panes, along with the front door.
I’d been in disbelief since her frantic phone call, refusing to believe that even in a town that hated me so much, someone would stoop this low simply because of who I was dating.
But I’d been wrong.
Oh, so very wrong.
I stood in the middle of my shop, my entire body numb as the police car lights painted streaks of blue and red across the back wall and display cases. I’d been here for hours—answering questions, filling out paperwork, watching my dream shatter at my feet. I still needed to call my insurance company, but I was exhausted. Physically. Mentally.
My throat tightened as I took in the damage, so lost in my grief that I barely registered the crunch of another set of footsteps before a throat cleared behind me.
“Can you think of anything else I need to put in the report, Magnolia?” Sheriff Jackson asked, his deep amber eyes full of concern.
He looked so much like Jaelyn when he wore that expression, and I was beyond grateful to my best friend for calling in her dad instead of dialing the sheriff’s office.
“I—I don’t think so, Mr. Bill. Thank you, though.”
“Alrighty. Well, in that case, we’re all done here. But if you think of anything else…”
“I’ll be sure to give you a call. Thanks again.”
Bill Jackson nodded, then pulled me into a brief embrace before handing me his card. “You call this number, alright? It’s my direct line.”
“I will.”
“Alright.”
With one last nod, he turned and left, leaving me alone in the wreckage of my dream.
And now that I was alone, the numbness dissolved, giving way to blistering rage.
I wasdone.
Done with this town.
Done trying to be the bigger person.
It wasn’t getting me anywhere, so why the hell should I keep appeasing these pearl-clutching, Bible-toting masses?
I needed to go home. Needed todosomething.
As if reading my mind, Sheriff Jackson called my name from his squad car. When I turned, he asked, “You need a ride home?”
