Page 72 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
“Using magic to hurt has consequences,” Florence said. “I saw it with my mom throughout my whole childhood. Every time she lit a candle to control me, it twisted her. She was even worse the next time.”
“The houseismagic,” Owen said with meaning.
“Maybe it killed once on the thirteenth anniversary of Helen and Christopher’s deaths,” Florence said, her voice a mixture of fear and loss. “And now it’s doomed to kill again. Every thirteen years.”
Chapter Forty
Evie, Now
Evie stood in the kitchen of Honeysuckle House as Angela made grilled cheese and Clara sat at the table playing with Florence’s kitten. Though yesterday’s events worried Evie, the house had been declared safe, and aside from its antics in the workshop that afternoon, it had almost felt normal. She didn’t know exactly what would happen if she moved forward with her mother’s binding spell tomorrow, so she wanted to give Clara—and herself—this last chance to sit with the house as she’d always known it.
“I wish Aunt Flo was here right now having dinner with us,” Clara said as Angela shuffled a sandwich onto one of the many vintage plates Evie had thrifted over the years and handed it to her.
Now that Evie had cooled off a bit, part of her regretted pushing Florence away. Another part of her felt justified. All their lives Florence acted like she knew what was best for the both of them. She never paused to wonder if Evie might be just as capable as she was. After all, Evie had raised Clara, and it was Clara whose spell had led them to her mother’s altar. Not that Florence knew about any of that.
“We all make our own choices,” Evie said bitterly.
Angela wrapped an arm around Evie’s waist and leaned her head against her side. “At least she tried.”
“I’d rather she’d stayed at the shop if she was just going to come here to tell me I was wrong,” Evie said.
Angela pulled back and arched her eyebrows. “You don’t mean that.”
“Fine,” Evie admitted. “It was nice to have her here again.” Even if she wished things had gone differently.
“Did you tell her about what you found?” Angela asked as she started on another sandwich.
Evie shook her head. “We started fighting before I had the chance.”
“Maybe if you call her and tell her Angela is cooking, she’ll come back!” Clara said over a mouthful of soup-dipped sandwich. “If it was me, I’d come. Angela makes the best grilled cheese.”
“Better than mine?” Evie asked.
“Yes,” Clara said. “Much better.”
Evie and Angela both laughed.
“It helps that Honeysuckle House never lets it burn,” Angela said.
Evie leaned against the counter beside Angela, watching her. It wasn’t the first time Angela had cooked for her, but after what they’d shared the night before, the moment felt brand new. Angela looked up from the frying pan, her twists framing her face, and when she caught Evie watching, she smiled and set down the spatula. Then she grabbed Evie by the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her in for a quick kiss. Evie wanted to linger there, but Angela released her hold on her and went back to the sandwich.
“Are you two kissing now?” Clara asked.
The question filled Evie with a sort of contented warmth not even her magic had brought her. For a brief moment she forgot about the curse, and it was only her and Angela and Clara in the place Evie loved most.
Angela handed over Evie’s sandwich and tilted her head to the side, a smile playing at her lips as she let Evie take the lead on how to answer Clara’s question.
“We are,” Evie said, keeping it simple.
Clara sighed dreamily. “Kissing’s nice.”
“It is,” Angela agreed.
“We certainly like it,” Evie said, that warmth in her chest spreading.
“Maybe one day I’ll have a best friend who I want to kiss!” Clara said brightly as she tilted her head, clearly deep in thought. “But for now I have Honeysuckle House. And Ink, even though technically he’s Aunt Flo’s best friend.”
“Maybe he can have two best friends,” Evie suggested.
