Page 74 of Witch Please

But maybe focusing on Lucy’s problems would numb the pain of his own. “We promised, so yeah. I’ll do my best to sell the idea.”

“Awesome. And just so you know…” Her tone turned teasing. “You’re an amazing brother, and Lucy agrees. Don’t get conceited.”

Titus almost laughed—no chance of that, none at all.

Chapter 22

“How long has she been drunk?” Leanne asked.

Danica peered up from the kitchen table blearily, but it didn’t interfere with her next shot. If she could just stay numb long enough, maybe she’d stop hating herself for hurting Titus and stop loathing Gram from threatening him like a villain from a children’s story. She didn’t hear Clem’s answer, but it was about two days, give or take. Her cousin was holding down the fort at the shop and yelling at her during downtime, but she was also in the middle of something with that damn witch hunter.

Which meant Danica had plenty of time to drink.

Until Clem called the rest of the coven, and now they were working up to an intervention. Danica grabbed the bottle of whatever this was—vodka maybe—and stumbled into the living room because she’d just recalled that she was mad at Leanne. Danica aimed her drink at the redhead, sloshing some on the area rug.

“This is your fault!”

Leanne arched a well-groomed brow. “How do you figure? I’m not saying you’re wrong, mind you, but I’d like more information before I take the blame.”

“You said I should go for it, get him out of my system. Instead, he’s all over my system! I miss him, and I’m mad at Gram, and my magic is…” Misery overwhelmed her, and she dropped into a squat, protecting the last of her drink with her life.

“It was pretty over the top, what your grandmother did.” That whisper came from Margie, who acted like it might literally kill her to speak a bad word about someone.

Ethel chortled. “Over the top? Listen, Old Ms. Waterhouse is as mean as a honey badger where her family’s concerned. I’m not saying I agree with her actions, but she thinks she’s defending her brood.”

“I’m not a brood,” Danica snapped.

“Nobody said you are.” Priya smoothed Danica’s hair.

At least she thought it was Priya. The room was spinning more than a little. Soon, people were helping her to bed. She recognized the feeling—she was about to pass out—and her coven sisters would probably pour out any liquor left in the house. That would mean she’d have to function like a sober, proper adult when she woke up. Because she didn’t want to, she closed her eyes and acted like she was already out as the others tucked her in.

Then they had a conversation, apparently believing she was unconscious.

“What do we do?” Vanessa asked. “I’ve never seen her like this.”

Clem sighed. “It’s unfair. I can’t evenyellat her, and I’m so mad. It’s like she forgot our pact the minute she met this guy, and she hears nothing I say these days.”

Guilt seeped in, staining the deeper corners of Danica’s soul that were already ragged and sore. She kept her eyes closed, knowing she owed her cousin an apology.I let everyone down. How do I make this right?Muzzily she wondered if faking her own death was out of the question.

“Maybe the spellbook?” Priya suggested. “Not right now, obviously. She’s in no shape to cast. But when she sobers up again, there might be something that could help.”

“Maybe. But the thing didn’t seem to be working as intended. Last time we used it, the witch hunter showed up, and I’m leery of trying it again, but if Danica wants to…” Clem didn’t sound too enthused.

Truth be told, neither was Danica. Their quiet voices lulled her, and she drifted, or, hell, maybe she passed out at long last. Either way, her bladder was screaming when she woke fourteen hours later, a fitting accompaniment to the hammers banging in her head.

Perfect. It started with a hangover. It ends with one too.

After peeing, she took a long, long shower and downed a liter of water with some pain pills.That’s enough self-indulgence. I owe Clem so big. She’s been dealing with the hunter and keeping the shop open and…Danica sighed, drying her hair more briskly than necessary. The towel abrasion made her head throb worse.And I deserve it.

Her phone, which she hadn’t looked at in days, was on fire with messages from Richard and Gram. He was pressing for a second date while Gram offered congratulations—her sources indicated that everything had gone well—and suggested they get together for lunch, just to have fun like they used to. The old witch acted like everything was good in her book while Danica nursed a deep and seething rage tempered only by this shitty hangover.

I miss Titus so much.

Honestly, it was ridiculous the way the ache sat on her chest like a night hag devoted to devouring dreams. The pressure didn’t abate, even after days of drinking. She wanted to run over to the bakery and apologize on her knees, for everything, and promise to make it up to him. But even if she did, it didn’t solve the problem with Gram. He wouldn’t be safe.

She wondered if her grandmother had made threats against her father before her mom got married. And if so, how did she handle the situation? But Mom would absolutely freak if she found out what Gram was doing. No exaggeration, this could split the family down the center, leaving a crater too deep and wide ever to be patched.

It’s better this way.

---