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“Which you should know at your old age.”
“That’s it. You’ve gone too far. Honey!” He raises his voice, and sure enough, Dad comes out with his glasses perched on the top of his head.
“Oh?” He looks between Pops and me, somewhere between distracted and curious. “Are we doing this already? Where did the time go…”
“We are. And more importantly, our son is bullying me.”
Dad sighs, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Be nice to your father.”
I roll my eyes playfully and move to the other side of the garage, knowing better than to take them seriously. They haven’t always been the strictest of parents—though Val required firmer reinforcement than the rest of us—and their good-natured laughter and terrible dad jokes are a thing of comfort to me more than anything else.
As is being here like this. Sometimes, I wish I’d never moved out. My old bedroom is still untouched, as are the rest of our bedrooms. When I’m sad, I go in there to remember who I used to be.
Before my magic ruined me. Before I lost her.
I dig into a book of boxes next, picking up one of Farrah’s old fashion magazines. Surely we can recycle this? Fashions are constantly changing. I would know; she’ll never stop talking to me about the trends.
Not that I follow them.
“Did Farrah end up telling you about the old cottage?” Dad asks, jolting me out of my thoughts.
I look up, my eyes narrowing. “No. She did not.”
There are many cottages in Starbrook, and definitely elsewhere in Maine, but without asking, I know which one he’s talking about. I’m usually the only one who visits the old place, and no one else really speaks about it, which is preferable.
He nods somberly, confirming my worries. “It’s been sold. Finally.”
I drop the magazine.
“To the new family. The Seren witches. Very nice—have a long history with Starbrook, actually—but they seem to be having some issues already. Hard to say how long they’ll last there if it keeps it up.”
I don’t know her surname, but that has to be Aurora. Who else could it be? No one has moved to Starbrook in a while.
“As one would imagine,” Pops says. “I can’t believe some irresponsible real estate agent sold it to them.”
“Well, someone had to buy it eventually. It’s just been sitting there.”
My ears ring. They continue talking, but I can barely process the words. I’m back in that cottage, and Aurora is there, wrapped up in the mess I created. The thought of my past and present clashing makes me sick to my stomach.
If the cottage does anything to upset her or her family… if it hurts them…
“I—I need to go,” I say, stepping away.
“What are you going to do?” Pops asks. “The sale is already finalized. I asked.”
“I don’t know. Warn them?”
“I think it’s too late.” Dad smiles softly. “They’ll have to figure it out. It’s about time someone broke the spell on that house, and maybe they’ll be the witches who can do it.”
How? It’s been a decade, and I haven’t broken it myself. How could they?
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll be back, okay? Don’t start the sale without me.”
“We can’t postpone,” Pops exclaims. “The signs are already up.”
“I’ll be back.”
I slam my car door behind me, jogging up to the cottage entrance. From the outside, the house looks peaceful, but I know better than to expect it to be that way inside—at least not all the time. It’s an out-of-body experience when my fist bangs against the oak door. Once. Twice. Again.
