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Aurora looks at me, and her smile fades, which only makes me feel worse. “We could do a charity auction during the picnic instead?” she says—back to uncertainty.

It’s my fault. I’m the one who zapped away her confidence. As much as she’s hurt me—maybe even betrayed me—that’s the last thing I want to do.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to recover. “No, no. You’re right. This year, perhaps we can donate a portion of the tickets to charity instead. That would work just as well, right?”

The charity has always been the most important piece, helping the unhoused in Maine. Winter is coming, and it’s not an easy place to survive in during the coldest season.

“Right,” Jewel says. “Great plan.”

It is a good plan, but it’s not mine, and maybe this is what Jewel was trying to prove all along. There’s someone better for the job—not the job of planning these events, I don’t think, but as the leader of this coven.

Or maybe both. I don’t know anymore. I still can’t think straight when, half an hour later, Aurora and I amble from the office.

“Talk to me.” Desperation drips from her words. “I can tell I upset you, but I don’t know what I did—I mean, I sort of do, but I didn’t know at the start. Like, no one told me you came up with the auction. I thought it was just an auction.”

Just an auction. Of course, she’s shallow; she doesn’t even consider the charity element to it. She doesn’t consider that it’s my greatest passion, one of the things that makes my pointless career worth it.

“I’m not upset,” I mutter.

She lifts her hands recklessly, nearly knocking over one of the paintings on the wall. “But you seem upset, and I don’t get it. It’s like there’s no winning with you. You were annoyed at me for not doing enough, and now you’re annoyed at me for doing too much.”

I stop and turn around to look at her as we step outside.

We’re not the only ones out and about, of course, but right now she has my full attention.

“I thought we were a team,” I say calmly. “I know we haven’t been spending time together, but you could have texted me the plan. You could have told me you were steamrolling something I came up with years ago. Something I loved.”

It was my first year in the position when I came up with the idea of a charity auction, and it went well. Everyone enjoyed themselves. People were begging for it the next year. Now, she says, everyone is sick of it. Maybe I’m the one who can’t win.

Why did I ever agree to take this position? I’m not a party planner. I’m a failed lawyer who didn’t even finish law school, much less pass the bar. Maybe I could have been a bigger help if I had worked in environmental law as I’d planned.

But I love Starbrook. I love giving back here as much as I can.

Her face drops. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking at it that way, and I didn’t know the auction was that important to you.”

“I know. How could you?” I shove my hands in my pockets. “I don’t work in a small town’s tiny government for my ego. I do it because I love this place. This town, this state. I want to help people. The charity element matters more to me than bonfires and vendors.”

She nods, her eyes closing. “That makes sense. The ticket idea—we can do that.”

Aurora doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know what’s important to me, what makes me happy, and what makes me sad. I don’t know those things about her either; I don’t know if she’s as shallow as my broken ego is telling me she is, or if she’s so passionate about her ideas that she barreled through.

Either way, it stings to be the one crushed.

“Your idea was good,” I say honestly. “We’re still giving to the charity, which is the important part to me. And now, we’re done working together.” Thank the gods. “You can go through Antoni with the rest of the planning.”

“Sterling—”

“I’m not upset.” I meet her gaze head-on. “I mean it. We’re fine.”

“If you say so.”

Maybe Aurora and I have never been fine. Maybe that morning, all those years ago, when she told me to leave her bed, that was supposed to be the end of us. The fates only ever planned for her to be a thorn in my side.

It doesn’t matter. I’m done thinking about her. Tonight, I need a drink, and some place loud enough to shut off my screaming—whining, really—thoughts. I’m tired of annoying myself.

The tavern is never quiet.

The bartender brings me my usual beer without a word, and I drink. Most people in town leave me alone, unless they’re one of my siblings or one of my rare friends. I have a few more friends now than I did growing up, but I’m not like Farrah or Val.