Page 117 of Charmed, I'm Sure
“You mean what’s best for you.”
She flinched like I’d struck her, and I immediately regretted my words. Taking a breath, I cupped her cheek in my hand, my voice softer now.
“The town has already decided what they think is best for us. Don’t give them that power. Please, sunshine, don’t do this to us.”
“I don’t want to,” she whispered again, leaning into my touch the barest amount. “But I need the dust to settle. They’ve targeted me, my home, and now my business. All because I fell for a guy out of my league.”
“One: I’m not out of your league—if anything, you’re out of mine. And two: I’ll give you what you’re asking for. But, baby?” I waited until she met my eyes. “This? Us? It isn’t over. So take the time you need, but know that I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
Not willing to give her the chance to argue, I pressed a kiss to her brow and turned away, heading down the porch steps.
Walking away—when all I wanted was to be her safe harbor in the storm—was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. But I did it.
For her.
For us.
Because I meant every word.
I was in this.
And if her admitting that she’d fallen for me told me anything, it was that she was, too.
She just needed time to realize it for herself.
30
Sucks to suck, bro
Taylor
MyChristmas-timeto-dolistgenerally consisted of the following: work, eat way too much, and avoid malls and any other shopping centers—except the grocery store—from Thanksgiving until the new year. Those items were still very high on my list, but over the last month, one more task had been added: finding Magnolia the perfect gift.
I’d planned to do what any sane person would do around the holidays—shop online. Unfortunately for me, my dear, sweet sister Adelaide didn’t agree with that plan. She’d waxed poetic about howMagnolia deserved better than online shoppingandyou can’t get a feel for the gift through a computer screen, insisting on dragging me out to New Orleans with her to shop.
She wasn’t entirely wrong. Magnoliadiddeserve better than that, and I’d even been mildly excited to brave the crowds for her. But after what happened a week ago, I just didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with the Christmas hellscape that was shopping in person. I hadn’t told Addy why I no longer wanted to go, but no matter the excuse I threw out, her response always landed somewhere along the lines ofsucks to suck, bro.
So, I went.
And as expected, I was hating every single second of it.
So far on this little adventure, I’d been run into by at least ten people with no spatial awareness—none of whom had so much as muttered anexcuse meorsorry.My heels had been clipped by overstimulated moms desperately trying to wrangle kids and push strollers, mumbling apologies as they went. I’d also been cussed out by a man who’d comethis closeto backing his car into mine. But that’s what I got for shopping five days before Christmas, I supposed.
It was fine. Completely and totally fine.
Woosah, and all that.
Who was I kidding? We’d only been here an hour, and I was already ready to go.
“This way, TayTay,” Addy sing-songed, looping her arm through mine, the fluffy ball on the end of her sequined Santa hat bouncing with every step.
“Must you call me that in public?” I groaned.
“Must you be so grumpy?” She furrowed her brows, jabbing me in the ribs when I scowled down at her. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? Trouble in paradise?”
“Something like that,” I muttered, shoving my free hand into my jacket pocket.
“Seriously?” she squeaked. “I was joking, but shit, Tay. What happened?”
