Maggie
The car ridehome was silent, but anything but empty. The air was so thick with everything Hunter wasn’t saying. His rage was in the tense set of his jaw, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, the way he wouldn’t look at me. I wanted to reach for him, place my hand on his thigh, tell him it was nothing, that Graham was just doing his job, but I was starting to learn. If I touched him now, I’d be throwing fuel on a fire.
Once inside, he didn’t slam the door, just closed it with a quiet, deliberate click. He just stood there, his back to me, staring at the wall.
“Hunter?” My voice caught in my throat.
He turned slowly, and for a second his love looked real. Like I was his lover and what I felt for him wasn’t because of some stupid relapse. In that moment, he was the man who brought me croissants in bed, peeling away their layers, feeding them to me one by one as the warm sunlight fell through the curtains. The man who kissed me like I was everything.
But then he shifted, and his eyes were tired. He’d been battling with something deep inside. Sadness maybe? Rage? Resentment? It broke myheart. I didn’t know it was possible to break your own heart—at least I didn’t realize it was so easy—but then again my kindergarten teacher did say I was an overachiever.
Fuck.
“Didn’t sit well with me, seeing you there, Maggie,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t like thinking of him asking you the most intimate questions about our life. About us.”
“He’s a cop, Hunter—it was just routine.”
“The fuck it was!” he snapped. “It’s never just routine with him.” He closed the distance between us. His hand found my arm and jerked me toward him, fingers digging into my skin. “Don’t ever make me chase after you again, Maggie. Do you understand me?”
I stopped, my breath caught in my throat. I didn’t fight him… didn’t acknowledge him. I just watched. Searched his eyes. They were different. Distant. Cold. Demanding. The spell’s hold on him must have gotten stronger. His obsession was past the point of hiding. Just the mention of Graham made him spiral.
His grip loosened, his thumb stroking the spot on my arm where he’d grabbed me. A twisted form of an apology. “I just worry,” he murmured, his voice dropping back to that soft, intimate tone. “You’re everything to me,a chuisle mo chróí. The thought of something happening to you… of him being the one to protect you instead of me… it drives me crazy. I love you so much it hurts.”
And there it was.The loving, tender boyfriend. It was always there, tangled in the fear, buried under the mess of the curse. It was the poison and the antidote all at once. I leaned in, let him pull me closer, telling myself it was real this time.
“We need to finish getting the decorations from upstairs,” I said, keeping my voice soft, trying to steer us back to normal. “Mom will be here later tonight, and I’d rather not deal with her whining that I’m never prepared for the unexpected.”
He nodded, the old excitement flickering back into his eyes—the version of him that existed before Graham came back. “Aye. Right, then. Let’s make this house perfect for her.” He kissed my forehead and turned toward the stairs, his mood suddenly reset.
I followed. “Hunter? I need to tell you something.” A dark knot ofdread tightened in my gut. He deserved to know about the curse. Just like Graham. Just like Jamie. Like all the others.
He turned to me from the top of the steps. “What is it, darling?”
“I need you to know… I cursed you.”
His smile fractured slightly. “What? You… cursed… me?”
“I cursed you into loving me,” I blurted.
He chuckled and turned his attention back to the boxes. “Aye… okay.”
I was halfway up the steps reaching for the box of ornaments when the doorbell rang, followed by a familiar voice that sent a jolt of ice through my body.
“Maggie,” Graham called from the door. “You forgot your coat at the precinct. I’ll just leave it on the chair.”
Fuck.
Hunter froze. The warmth in his eyes evaporated, and his face twisted into a a cold snarl of rage. He didn’t say a word, just turned—his face now a mask of pure fury—and shoved me.
I didn’t even try to scream. My feet flew out from under me, and everything became a blur of wooden steps rushing up to meet the back of my skull.
The world didn’t just go black; it shattered. Then, from the pieces, a face emerged. Hunter’s, twisted with fury. Then Graham’s, thundering into view. Their voices a distant war, muffled by the roaring in my ears, until it faded and there was only silence and sunflowers swaying over my head like a canopy of gold.
When I was a little girl, I was picked on constantly by the other kids, usually on the way home from school. This was even before I found magic. This was because children were mean, and I was different. I didn’t like sports. I preferred wandering in the woods, making collages, or poking my nose in a book instead of playing dress-up. They’d chase me, throw stones, shout names, shove me, rub dirt in my face—you know… all the things that made me really want to stick around every time I saw them.
One day, during the usual routine of running until my legs gave out, I decided to switch it up—rounded the corner, ducked behind a picketfence, and disappeared into a patch of sunflowers. After the kids passed by, I lay down and finally took a deep breath—they didn’t find me that time. I spent hours watching the big yellow blooms sway above me. They were so tall it was almost like they could reach the clouds. This place was safe—it was freedom, it was my new home.
So, every day after school for a month I ran… ran before they even started chasing. Once I got to the sunflowers, I knew I’d be alright.
