And I don’t know what to say, because part of me wishes I didn’t know. Part of me wishes I could go back to before the rush and erase everything that came after, because I’m so scared of learning more.
So scared of asking all the questions I want to ask.
So scared.
But past the fear, past the worries and doubts and uncertainty, is the undeniable truth that I want to know him. I want to know what keeps him up at night, the thoughts that pull at his mind, the reason his edges are sharp and his words are tense.
And the thing that makes my eyes burn, that makes my throat ache with the truth of it, is that I want to know Wolfe Hawthorne more than I’ve ever wanted to know anything in my entire life. And it’s devastating.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.
I should lie to him, answer with something mundane, but he has somehow slipped into the cracks in my foundation, he and the moonflower and his magic, slowly breaking it apart.
“You might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” I say, scared to meet his eyes, scared even to look in his direction.
He exhales, picks up a stone from the beach and tosses it into the waves. “I know that.”
“Then why? Why tell me you want to see me again? Why come find me in the woods when you easily could have let me be?”
He turns to me but doesn’t speak until I finally look at him, a decision I instantly regret. “Because I’m selfish, and when I see you practice my magic, the world makes sense.”
I want to yell at him, tell him how unfair he’s being, how incredibly cruel this is. But more than anything, I want to whisper that on those nights, practicing his magic by the light of the moon, my world made sense, too.
It made sense, even as it was torn apart.
eighteen
A week later, Ivy comes over to stay the night. We haven’t had a sleepover in so long, and after laughing with her in my room and whispering about things that have nothing to do with benign flowers or dark magic, I’m feeling like myself again. My parents are downstairs, drinking wine in front of the fire. It’s dark outside, and the lights in my room are dim.
We’re sprawled out on my bed with a bowl of popcorn between us.
“We’ve already had dozens of preorders for our Tandon tea, by the way,” Ivy says.
“Seriously? Who’s actually ordering that?”
“Witches on this island who are finally breathing again after years of holding their breath.” The words are serious, and I prop myself up on my elbow.
“That’s nice,” I say, my tone softening. And it is nice. I feel good knowing my relationship with Landon is bringing peace to a coven that was founded on fear.
“Should I put you down for a large bag?”
I laugh. “Sure,” I say. “How’s the shop doing, anyway?”
“Great. My parents are teaching me more and more. They expect me to be running it by next year. I have a ton of ideas for how to build our business and create more opportunities.”
“If you create a wedding tea, I’m going to revolt.”
“I will obviously be creating a wedding tea, and it will have a ridiculous name like With This Tea, Tandon Weds.”
I choke on a piece of popcorn. “The name needs work.”
“I’ve got time.”
“Seriously, though, I’m happy for you. The shop will thrive under your management.”
“I know,” Ivy says with a smile. It isn’t arrogance—she knows her strengths and isn’t willing to downplay them for the sake of appearances.
It’s one of the things I love most about her.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ivy says, rolling onto her side to face me. Her tone shifts, more serious now. “How you met Wolfe doesn’t make sense.”
A knot forms in my stomach, and my palms begin to sweat. “Do we have to talk about him?”
“No, not for long. I’m just curious how it happened. The mainlanders keep a tally of the visitors who come here each day to ensure everyone returns in the evening. They would have known someone missed the boat and alerted your mom.”
The knot gets tighter. Ivy is my best friend, and I want to share this with her. And maybe sharing something with Ivy will ease the worry in my mind demanding that I talk to my mother. Maybe it will help me move on.
I take a breath, deciding I don’t owe it to Wolfe to keep his secrets. At least not from Ivy. “I wasn’t totally honest with you. I didn’t want to scare you, and I was caught off guard by the whole thing.” I look at her, but her expression gives nothing away. “He’s a witch,” I say carefully.