Page 78 of Witch Please

“I do not want to talk about this,” Clem snapped. “Not even slightly.”

Quickly Danica held up her hands before her cousin could go off. “Okay. Just know that I’m here, a prime maker of bad decisions, if you ever want someone to listen without judgment. I live in a glass house, no stones here.”

Clem’s look eased into a reluctant smile as she pulled into the clinic parking lot. It was a small brick building in the strip mall parking lot, detached and offering twenty-four-hour urgent care. Inside, the place was full of crying toddlers and worried-looking women, a few elderly people, and a teenage boy cradling his wrist. It took about an hour for a doctor to see Danica, only a few minutes to get an allergy shot and a harried lecture about being more careful.

Clem was silent until they were nearly home, and then she said, very softly, “I like him,” as if she was confessing to a crime.

Danica replied just as quietly. “I suspected. What are you going to do?”

“Hell if I know. Aren’t you going to tell me what a terrible idea this is?”

“I’m the queen of those, if you hadn’t noticed. Yeah, I’m worried about you, but I can’t tell you what to do.”

Clem sighed. “Started with me running a game, feeling so clever because I was putting one over on him. Making the almighty, dangerous hunter forget why he even came to St. Claire in the first place. But now… Fuck it, never mind. I’ll figure it out. I haven’t forgotten our pact. This is a blip, that’s all.”

That seemed to be all Clem intended to say on the subject, and as she parked, Danica changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking, and I want to use the spellbook one last time. Before, I was all messed up emotionally. I think that’s why the spells kept going wrong. But I’ve reached equilibrium, and I want…” She took a deep breath. “I want to help Titus. If I can nudge him toward getting over me faster, so he doesn’t feel as hurt and he forgets faster, that would be better. It’s all I can do to make amends, you know?”

To her surprise, Clem nodded. “I get it. Let’s do that. If there’s a spell in there that looks like it’d help the CinnaMan, I’ll back you up.”

She couldn’t resist the urge, hugging her cousin from behind as they headed into the house. “You’re the absolute best. I’ll get the grimoire.”

Clem set her hands atop Danica’s and pressed gently. “I’ll set up in the kitchen. Try not to start any fires.”

“It was one time,” she muttered, stifling a smile.

For some reason, the spellbook felt heavier in her hands this time. The tome represented all her grandmother’s hopes and dreams, the weight of all her expectations. With each step, she wished she could drop this thing down a well.No, tamp down the anger or the spell will go wrong again. I need to fill myself with positive energy and selfless intentions. This is for Titus. I genuinely want him to be happy.Danica imagined the joyous life he’d build—with someone else—and it felt like her chest might crack open.

Danica stood and breathed until her mood leveled out. Then she went on to the kitchen, where Clem sat with lit candles, all the accoutrements in place. It was impossible to know what they’d need exactly until she perused the spell. Taking a breath, she pulled out her chair and sat. Opened the grimoire with hopeful eyes and—

Yes. It’s perfect.

“Anything?” Clem asked.

“Yes. There’s an incantation written. Beautifully simple—a spell for Letting Go.” Why did it hurt so much? Goddess knew, she might do herself a permanent injury casting this, but if it helped him…

“That sounds promising.”

Danica closed her eyes for a long moment, and when she opened them next, she was braced and ready. “Let’s begin.”

***

Sunday should have been Titus’s one day off, but it was better to stay busy.

That way, he could pretend he wasn’t hurting, brush off Maya’s mild concern. Earlier in the week, he’d thrown himself into activities at the fire station, run with Doris until he couldn’t think. Even then, the anguished throb of his maimed heart startled him now and then. He breathed through the worst of it and told himself it would get better.

It always does.

And this wasn’t a new experience. In fact, it would’ve been more surprising if things had gone any other way. Like always, he had no clue when or why everything had gone wrong. He let out a shaky breath and restrained the urge to punch the wall he was prepping for paint. Instead, he washed it down with controlled, meticulous motions.

The furniture was out in the hall, stacked up so they could barely pass. Trevor was taping borders that shouldn’t be painted with a precision that belied his usual carelessness. His friend hadn’t always been so devoid of dreams, more evidence of how thoroughly love could wreck a man. Maya squatted, pouring a little of the paint they’d chosen into a tray.

Her gaze was anxious when she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Think she’ll like it?”

The color was a gentle shade at the intersection of green and blue. At the store, the worker said it was called “Waterfall,” and he suspected Lucy would be thrilled over their effort, if nothing else. Maya rambled on about how it was a cool and calming hue, and Titus swallowed his impatience.It’s not her fault.

Lately, he was angry about everything, and he worked not to take it out on people who didn’t deserve it. Hopefully, he’d pass from the furious stage of grief soon; that way he’d make it to acceptance faster. But he had to pass through bargaining en route, and, God, he hoped he could keep from drunk dialing Danica, begging her to explain what he’d done wrong and making desperate pleas for her to allow him to fix it.

“She’ll love it,” he said firmly.

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