Page 42 of Hexed & Hazy

Still, I scoff rather than admitting the truth. “I’m not. You know me better than that. When have I been one to fall for a pretty face?”

“That’s why I’m so surprised.”

At last, I plop onto the couch and pick up the sweater I’ve been working on. I began knitting it last spring, but I’ve been too busy to get far. At this rate, it won’t be done in time for me to wear it this winter. I shove the needle in, wrap the yarn around it, and aggressively knit. A relaxing hobby has become anything but.

“Don’t take too long down here,” Ozan says to Juniper, likely trying to free me from the conversation.

I don’t expect it to work.

Juniper doesn’t even acknowledge him. She stands in front of me, her slight height somehow looming as the fire casts shadows around her. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much you’re doing, and not just for Seth. For your other clients, for us, the charms for Ozan’s shop. And now, you’re taking on the hex.”

“Why didn’t you care about my workload until I began helping Seth?” I look up, frowning. “I know you aren’t as close to him as the rest of us, but surely you don’t want him to be hexed.”

“Don’t say that. I care about him as much as you do. He’s the annoying little brother I never wanted.”

“Not very convincing.”

“This isn’t about him.” She presses her lips into a line. “I’m worried that your helping him will keep him from learning the lesson of the hex. Maybe there’s a reason the cleansing rituals haven’t worked.”

“But what if my helping him is the reason he learns the lesson?”

“Hm…” She turns away, looking longingly up the stairs. Juniper works just as hard as I do, and if the fates are on my side, her exhaustion may be what saves me from this conversation. “Slow down when you need to. That’s all I want to say.”

I lift my knitting. “I am. Right now. This is how I relax.”

“Uh-huh.”

Juniper pads up the stairs, and I attempt to do as she asks, to focus on my sweater. That lasts for roughly two rows. She’s right. Seth is hexed, and nothing can move in his love life until that’s taken care of.

At this rate, it may never be. We’ve already interviewed two out of three of the witches he’s dated.

It takes everything in me to focus on my knitting. One row. Two.

Three.

That’s it. I can’t take this anymore.

I scurry up to the attic, where our family grimoire lives on a cluttered desk. I’ve pored over it so many times over the last few days, desperately searching for answers, but this time it’s different. The book opens itself up, pages fluttering about until it lands on a blank page⁠—

But not blank for long.

Modern handwriting, my mother’s handwriting, slowly appears on the page. It’s as if she’s writing it before my eyes: Foolproof Hex Breaker.

Juniper is wrong. There is a way to break this hex. And my mother is still here, helping from the other side. This isn’t the first time she’s assisted us with spells since passing, and knowing her, it won’t be the last.

I look up to the ceiling and nod, emotion swelling in my chest. “Thanks, Mom.”

While I’m gathering the ingredients, my phone lights up with a text. I half expect it to be Seth—maybe he has learned his lesson, and perhaps he wants to talk about our almost-kiss, but…

It’s David. In all the hustle, all the distractions, I nearly forgot about him. Heat rushes to my cheeks.

David

I know it’s late.

I snort, typing out a response.

Me