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But she holds a piece up to my lips, and I eat it anyway.
Easy. For the first time since we met, there’s no magic. No coven. Just us, and everything is simple. Is this how it could have been all along, if I’d been bold enough to ask for her number when we met?
It’s too late to consider the past. We’re here now.
We’re about fifteen minutes away from Starbrook, and even though it’s just a bit of space, it feels like a relief to be here where no one knows us, where no one is haunting me. But despite her teasing, I can’t help but worry that Aurora doesn’t carry the same lightness she usually does.
Her smile is tight, and she pulls away from me faster than I expect.
We walk through the cozy downtown, lit up by twinkling electric lights rather than the magical lights in Starbrook. This town has a higher human population than witches, and it shows, but there’s comfort in that as well. I’ve always enjoyed the mundane. I would probably have chased it if I could have stood being away from my family for so long.
“Let’s get a drink,” I say, nodding at a little bar. I’ve been there a few times, and it may not be owned by witches or carry potions, but it has good food and drinks.
It will give us somewhere to talk, because my dads were right, and so was Aurora. We need to talk.
Chapter 38
Aurora
It’s not until Sterling sits down that I realize how tired he looks—dark circles under his eyes, his beard a little longer than usual. He’s always carried this air of exhaustion, but we seemed to be having a good night until now.
“What is it?” I reach across the table to hold his hand, and to my relief, he lets me.
There’s obviously one thing weighing on me, and it’s not about Sterling as much as it is me. I know something I shouldn’t know, something he doesn’t want me to know, and I don’t know how to undo it.
What he says next is only surprising because I half-expected he would never talk about the cottage again. He’s been so good at avoiding it up until this point.
“It’s… the cottage.” He closes his eyes. “I know it’s clear I’ve been dismissing the topic as of late—”
“Always,” I say evenly. “You’ve been dismissing it ever since I moved here.”
He winces, and I instantly regret saying anything. He’s opening up, and I want to let him, but I’m afraid that what he says next will change everything.
But Sterling doesn’t miss a beat.
“That was wrong of me,” he says, “but it’s hard for me to talk about. I’ve tried. Tried therapy. Tried opening up to my family. I can’t—”
He’s not ready, and I’m not ready to know. He shouldn’t have to tell me yet.
“You don’t need to say anything—”
“Yes. I do.” His eyes open, and they’re so full of pain, red and raw, though no tears fall. “The being who haunts the cottage haunts it because of me. Because she wants revenge.”
“Revenge?”
This isn’t the story Jewel painted. Then again, her story had more holes than one of Farrah’s crochet blankets. I shake my head.
“I killed her,” he whispers.
My heart lurches, and every muscle in my body is tense.
Of course, our server picks the worst moment to stop by our table. She flashes a bright smile, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her. “How are we doing today?”
“Um—great,” I say, though it takes all the effort in my body to muster the single word.
Sterling remains in stony silence.
“Can I get you started with some drinks?” she chirps.
