Page 31 of Hexed & Hazy

Joining him on these interviews should kill my feelings for him, not make them stronger. I shouldn’t want to protect him from Victoria’s wrath—but gods, I do. They were immature on both sides, and I can’t root for either of them.

Or perhaps that’s the jealousy speaking again.

Despite it all, I feel bad for Seth. It’s clear he won’t let himself have a relationship, and I suppose that’s hypocritical of me, considering that I have no time for love myself. My relationships have always fallen flat, and it would be a lie to say I don’t know why.

He doesn’t realize it, but he’s hexed me too—with unrequited feelings I’m too chicken to tell him about.

Perhaps our next interview will give us more information. After meeting with Victoria, I have nothing. He believes she didn’t hex him. I do, too.

I follow Seth into his home, and he insists on carrying every bag by himself. If he weren’t wearing layers to keep warm, I could enjoy the vision of his arms rippling—as it is, all I see is the sherpa-lining of his coat and the back of his beautiful head.

But I’m just here for the soup. Right.

“Mom,” Seth calls into the house, using one foot to push his boot off the other. “I’d better find you relaxing.”

“I am, I am.” Liezel is planted on the couch with a horror movie playing. She’s always loved scary movies—the scarier, the better—and she watches them with a straight face. The bravest woman I know.

I approach her before Seth does, fixing her with a warm smile. “I haven’t seen this one yet. Is it good?”

“So far, but I feel like I already know the ending.”

“No spoilers.” I bend down and give her a half-hug, one that doesn’t require her to rise from the couch. “It’s good to see you.”

“Always good. Are you staying for dinner?” She looks away from the screen, turning her attention to me. “What about your sisters?”

“It’s only me tonight. Seth requested my help to make almondigas.”

Delicious meatball soup in savory broth, with thin noodles. At least I’ll get a good dinner out of an otherwise exhausting day.

She gives Seth a pointed look. “He won’t make you cook. Let him do it. It’s easy.”

I admire Mrs. Bautista for many reasons, but she did a good job raising her children. Some forget to teach their sons how to cook and clean, but Seth is adept at both. I would say he’s a better cook than I am.

I laugh lightly. “He won’t, but I don’t mind helping.”

She scoffs but doesn’t stop me as I peel off my outer layers and join Seth in the kitchen. The Bautista house is always warm—a little too warm in the summers for my taste, and especially toasty in the winters. Right now, it’s perfect.

Seth already has a pot on the stove, the ground pork out in a bowl, and an enormous bottle of fish sauce out.

“Tell me what to do,” I say.

“You know…” He shoves a chopping board and a yellow onion in my direction. “I would usually tell you to sit down with Mom, but after the torture you put me through today, I like the idea of bossing you around a little.”

“Ha.” I snort. “I’m sure.”

He doesn’t need to instruct me; I already know the steps. I dice the onion, just like the times our mothers would throw parties together. We were never required to help, but while the other kids ran around, I preferred to be in the kitchen with the adults. They had the best stories.

As a teenager, I would dice up carrots and onions for Liezel’s lumpia, or chop potatoes for my mom’s stew. The only difference now is that Seth is here, forming meatballs with his hands and browning them in a stainless steel pot. He hums to himself as he works.

“Seth,” I say, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Does… does Liezel know about the hex?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “No, and I don’t want her to.”

The last thing I want is to tell Seth that the hex may impact his mother, but I’ll do a lot to keep her safe. And I know he will, too.

I inhale deeply. “But what if it... Seth, we don’t know if your love life is hexed or your relationships. There’s a difference. Familial relationships are still a relationship.”

“So far, it’s just the love life.” His face grows grave, and he runs a hand over it, muttering a curse. “She has a lot going on. I don’t want to give her another reason to worry.”