Page 31 of With All My Haunted Heart

“What?” He bats his eyelashes at me, all innocence, but when I don’t break my stare, he laughs. “Fine. It was Louie’s idea. Don’t tell her I tried to take credit for it.”

“Then why isn’t she the one wooing the mayor?”

His smile falters, and a flash of hurt crosses his face. There and gone in an instant, hidden again by his bright smile. “Lou is busy with her own errands today. Besides, of the pair of us, I’m clearly the most charming.”

I guess I still expect to be misunderstood.

“Has she always been a bit prickly?” I ask before I can think better of it. “She’s more serious than your stories made her seem.”

Xander adjusts the arms of his coat. Brushes invisible lint from the front. Runs a hand through his hair. The man is all sorts of fidgety, almost evasive. “Starting a business is always stressful, but we’ve been on a compressed schedule since the beginning. I think it’s harder on Lou, since she’s deep in the weeds of the financials.”

I remember the early days of my own business. I was living with Xander—before he abandoned me and Dea to move to Brooklyn—working a job he helped me secure at a local café. It was there that I started offering occasional magical services. My first clients were fellow baristas and friends of friends, like Dea, before word of mouth spread through Windsfell and strangers started reaching out for support.

Eventually, I was making more from magic than brewing coffee. Making the leap from piecemeal magical work to being a full-time witch for hire was exhilarating. I was full of hope and possibility, but there was also a lot of stress and worry. There were tax forms to file. Branding decisions to make. The fear that the whole thing was a terrible idea that was going to blow up in my face at any second.

And now, five years later, it really might blow up. Or, perhaps, implode is a better word for it. Wither.

The accuracy of the term makes me wince, and I lean against the tall reception desk for support. If I don’t adequately haunt Midnight Manor by Halloween, my business is on track to wither and die. It’ll be proof that who I am and the type of magic I do are as ineffective and unstable as my parents always said.

Fuck that.

I am not letting my business go under without a fight. I’ve already made a ton of progress with this haunting, despite losing four days to possession recovery. I can do this.

“Will you be good by yourself today?” Xander asks from his place by the front door, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, now that I have the crystals I need, I can get them prepped and plan my first scouting trip.” I push away from the desk, pick up the box, and brace the package on my hip, careful not to press against my bruise. “I’ve got the rest of today blocked off for research. There are a handful of local hauntings mentioned in the Witch-tionary. I need to decide which ones are worth checking out.”

“The Witch-tionary?”

“It’s a witch-run forum that caters to nontraditional magic. Nanette hates it, of course. Their slogan is ‘The Witch-tionary: Where Unconventional Witches Learn How to Spell.’ ”

“Witches and their puns,” Xander says with a groan, shaking his head. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to spend the next few weeks traipsing around graveyards.”

“Because I will be,” I say with a laugh. “A lot of the recommendations are places like that, though not all of them.” I glance over my shoulder, toward the back of the house, where the kitchen is situated. I know Elle is out, but it feels strange for the house to be this quiet. There should be a true crime podcast playing in the kitchen. The sound of the stand mixer whirring. The banging assault of her abusing croissant dough. “Do you know when Elle will be back? I assume she’ll want to weigh in on ghost options before I go hunting.”

That same flicker of suppressed emotion crosses Xander’s face. “She’s usually out late on Thursdays.” His words come out with false nonchalance, his gaze trained on his shoes, which only increases my curiosity.

I shift the box of crystals to my other hip. “Where does she go? You said she had an errand?”

“It’s a personal thing. She wouldn’t want me to get into it.” Xander runs a hand through his blond locks and glances over his shoulder at the front door, like he’s eager to be on his way. “I didn’t tell Lou about your family stuff when she asked, and I won’t get into her stuff with you. If you have questions, you should ask each other. Don’t put me in the middle.”

Fire blazes across my chest. Elle asked Xander about me. The revelation almost outweighs the embarrassment of Xander calling out my attempt to snoop into her life.

“Sorry, Xan. Forget I asked.” I gesture up the stairs. “Before I dive into research, do you have any ghostly requests? And not,” I add before he can get any cute ideas, “about finding you a ghost boyfriend.”

“You’re no fun.” He leans against the door and tilts his head, considering. “Lou will definitely have opinions. Check with her before you go collecting spirits like Pokémon.”

“They’re not Pokémon, Xander. They’re people.”

“I know. Which is why my only real request is that they be good people. And queer-friendly, obviously. Lou and I shouldn’t have to deal with bigoted houseguests, even if they’re invisible.” Xander turns and reaches for the door, oblivious to the bomb he’s dropped on my head.

Elle is queer.

That’s what he meant, right?

My mind flits through all the interactions I’ve had with her since we met. The sapphic romance novel in her room. Every glance. Every hard-won smile. The brush of her fingers along my abdomen after I finally woke up on Sunday.

And what do you think about me? I asked, half-delirious with pain.