About all of it. My crushing debt. The eviction letter from Nathan, his impossible deadline mere days away. The small business grant, lost and won and lost again, because I’ve got no choice but to refuse it.
But mostly, I cry for Devlin. My dark prince. My unexpected champion.
Summoned, spellbound, and then…
Poof, just like my dreams.
The pity party is pathetic and endless, not even a cake to cry into, my exhaustion so complete I start to wonder if I’ll ever be able to get up off this couch again. I’m stuck in the same spot for so long I watch the sky change from sunset to moonrise to sunrise, golden morning light filtering through the nearly bare trees outside, a cardinal tapping on the front window.
The fire has burned down to embers, and I raise a lazy hand and call it back to life, staring into the flames until they’re nothing but a blur.
Get up, Violet.
But I can’t.
“I don’t know where to go from here,” I whisper, the admission eating through my chest. My heart.
Losing my shop feels like a failure.
Losing Devlin feels like death.
My heart is broken, my dreams shattered, and the worst part of it is I still miss him.
Am I enraged that he went behind my back, that he undermined my efforts with dark magic and threats, that he trulydidn’tthink I could earn the grant on my own after making me believe I could, that he didn’t have the courage or respect to tell me about what he and Olivy found before he went after Brandt? Hell yes.
But… goddess. Devlin literally changed my life. Inspired me to be wild and spontaneous and a little reckless, too. Showed me that I could break out of my hyper-perfectionist prison and do something crazy, like…
Like stand up to my ex and slow dance in front of the entire town at the Haunted Halloween Ball.
Like go before a committee that included said ex and prove to them thatyes, my tea shopisamazing, that it deserves their investment.
Like keep on trucking, all the way to the end of a disastrous presentation, despite the unintentional sabotage of a haunted vibrator.
Like fall in love with the Devil himself, and believe—for a little while—that the Devil could love me right back.
Oh, Devlin…
He was right. I see that. About so many things. Me, getting in my own way. Losing sight of my so-calledwhy—the spark behind everything I do. Turning my passion into a job and forgetting that it’s actually what I love to do more than anything.
Forgetting that no matterwhathappens to the physical shop, no one can take my magic away. My inspiration. My love and talent for tea blending that started with a kind, beautiful, ass-kicking grandmother who loved me fiercely and taught me how to turn my personal magic into a gift I could share with the world.
A lone butterfly swirls through my stomach, and I smile. I actually smile.
Maybe Devlin and I failed in our mission to save Kettle and Cauldron—Hell, maybe it was doomed from the get-go. Maybewewere doomed. I mean, come on. Mixing mojitos and magic? Drunk-summoning the prince of darkness with aspreadsheet? Not exactly laying the bedrock of a lasting relationship.
But that doesn’t mean I need to spend my final days as the proprietress of Kettle and Cauldron sacked out on the couch, crying into my tea leaves over a lost dream and a lost love.
You ruined it for us,chimes in the Downtown Pep Squad, still reeling from her own terrible loss.We could have had it all, but—
“You shut up.”
You’re the reason we can’t have nice things. You know that, right?
“Andyou’rethe reason we can’t walk straight, you insatiable little beast. So get it together, girl. We’ve got shit to do today.”
And wedohave shit to do, I realize now. As long as there’s still time, there’s still a chance. Right?
I shake my head, clearing the cobwebs from my sleep-deprived, overworked brain. Just because I’ve suffered a few setbacks doesn’t mean it’s time to clock out of my own life.
