Chapter 7

Kate

We arrive at the usual spot for breakfast with the girls, that place in Bayside where Tanner killed the were-rabbit.

I pause on the sidewalk, just out-of-sight of the patio where I imagine my friends will be sitting, and turn to face the men. They’re dressed marginally more appropriate today. No witch hats. Proper shirts. Marlowe is still wearing my sweatpants, but whatever. They’re all wearing their witch boots. Fine.

“Leave me alone and sit elsewhere,” I command, and all three of them look back at me like they have zero intention of doing that.

I make a frustrated sound and spin on my heel, pasting a smile in place before I round the corner of the building and spot Georgia, tapping her fingers on the table. As soon as she spots me, she stands up and then freezes when the guys appear behind me.

Lovely.

“Morning!” I call out cheerily, scowling as Marlowe shoves past me. This motherfucker …

He yanks out a chair at the table and then stands there gripping the back of it and glaring at me from obsidian eyes.

“No way I’m letting my woman pull out her own chair.” He scoffs at me like I have done something wrong, and then walks away to sit with the other guys. I just gape at his back. He’s listening to me, but he’s also domineering and … sweet … and a total jerk. Ugh. Crap. Shit.

I sit down.

Georgia stares at me. Tacy is gaping. Fernanda is shifting her eyes over to the guys like she’s truly appreciating the vista. Thankfully, Tacy’s boyfriend … err … what’s his name … isn’t here today. Jared, I think.

“You’re still spending time with those guys?” Georgia asks, glossy black hair braided over her shoulder, brown eyes narrowed on me. “Kate, they’re all over the internet. Everyone thinks you’ve somehow resurrected the victims from the Witchwoods. People are flooding into town trying to get a glimpse of the tree.” She pauses and glances over at the other two girls before turning to me again. “You live right near there. I’m sure you’ve seen the cops swarming the place?”

“Yeah, uh.” I scratch at my temple and then pause as Tanner saunters up to stand beside me.

“Mind if I borrow your wallet?” he asks, like the words physically pain him. Look at that tense jaw. See, this bothers him. He pushes it down and masks it with another smile. “I’ll order for ya, if you want.”

I dig my wallet out of my jeans pocket and pass it to him, acting like I didn’t fuck his sleeping self just an hour and a half ago. Right. Stay cool, stay calm.

“You’re giving them money?” Georgia whispers, like she wants to throttle me. I don’t blame her. I know what it looks like. If she knew what Marlowe was capable of, she’d have him gutted already. “Who the hell are these guys to you, Kate? They’re taking advantage of you.”

They … sort of are, in a way. I wasn’t kidding when I told Marlowe that I came into this relationship with a house, a truck, and a business. But it’s not like the three of them didn’t put in a full workweek over the last five days. The Pink Lady job will be done far sooner than if I was the only one working on it. Self-painting rollers and brushes, too.

I have more mouths to feed, but I also have magic. And brawn. An excess amount of brawn.

“They …” I start, realizing that I’m going to have to address the a€?my woman’ comment from Marlowe. “I told you: they are the missing Witchwoods men. They have nowhere else to go, and even if they did, I sort of need them here.” I swallow down a lump of unease, trying to ignore the glowing Witchwoods cat that’s sitting on the table to my right. It has two tails, like Tanner’s shadow. “The reason the cops are swarming the McKay Community Forest is because people are sticking their hands in the Witch’s Tree and disappearing. These guys and I, we’re going to fix that.”

All three girls just sit there and stare at me. It’s Fernanda, the kinky bookworm with the pink pixie cut, who speaks up first.

“Can I ask a personal question?” she begins, adjusting her glasses. I nod, unsure of where this is going but willing to try full transparency with these women. As I said, I’m lonely. The only way to fix that is to seek connections with other people, despite my inherent fear of rejection.

“Go for it.” I relax back in my seat, my body attuned to the movements of the men. Without even looking, I can tell that Tanner is inside and that the other two are seated at the table directly behind me.

“Are you … seeing all three of them?” Fernanda leans back and bites her lip. She’s curvy and sexy, and so much fun. She’s not afraid of trying new things, and perfectly honest when it comes to admitting how much she likes sex and kink and books that most people would never read. I think she’s asking this because she’s interested in the men, too. Looking at her, I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t be interested in her in the same way.

“I … it’s complicated.” I look over my shoulder just as Tanner exits the cafe, taking the seat to Brooks’ right. I notice that they sit in their cardinal directions. Marlowe on the west, Tanner on the east, and Brooks to the south. I’m facing away from them, but I’m at the northernmost point of the group. Interesting.

“Complicated meaning they’re taken?” Fernanda asks gently, smiling at me. “It seems like you’re with them all, but I thought I’d ask. If not, I’d be interested in spending time with … well, any of them. They’re the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen, if I’m being honest.”

“I …” The words won’t come. I have no idea what to say.

“You’re dating three guys?” Georgia asks, but not like she’s judging, just like she’s surprised. She’s only ever seen me date Nathan. That’s it. “Kate, I don’t know if you’ve been on your phone much lately, but this Witchwoods shit is everywhere. I’m worried. If—no offense—but if what you’re saying is true, then this is really bad. People are flying into the Arcata-Eureka airport just to see the four of you, just to see the Witch’s Tree.”

“I’m surprised your house isn’t being swarmed,” Tacy whispers, leaning forward, brown eyes darting around the patio like she expects to be filmed. There’s nobody around here but a few septuagenarians gossiping about their families. Even the school across the street is quiet for the time being. I was hoping to see my siblings during recess, but the men and I were late.

Sending my brother and sister to a summer camp that runs over the weekend? Couldn’t I have watched them? Why does my dad suck so much? I have yet to call him. Is it any wonder why? He might not have even known I was missing. No joke.

Problem for a different day.

Do I tell my friends about the spell? I feel like I’ve already told them enough to stretch their disbelief to the limit. I’m claiming to have disappeared into a magic tree and then re-emerged a month later with three men who’ve been missing for decades—three men who haven’t aged.

I decide to leave things where they stand.

The waitress brings me some iced tea and a bowl of clam chowder with a side of bread. Somebody was paying attention when I said what I liked. My mouth twitches, but I don’t look back at Tanner. I stay focused on the girls for the rest of breakfast.

I do my best to steer conversation away from the men, but it inevitably goes right back.

“If you want to talk to the guys and … well, I don’t own them,” I tell Fernanda, but it feels like I’m betraying them by even saying that. Our ritual in the woods was a dark wedding, and I damn well know that. I might not have picked them, but they’re mine now and … vice versa. I swallow down the final bite of clam chowder and wash it back with the last of my iced tea.

All Fernanda said to me was: “I hope these men are good for you, Kate. You seem happier than you’ve been since Nathan left.”

That’s what she said and … what garbage just came out of my mouth?

Some part of me knows what I’m doing, trying to sabotage myself. Wanting to see if Fernanda, with her cute quirkiness and beautifully shameless sexuality, can lead the men astray.

I’m testing them, and that’s fucked up, but I do it anyway.

I excuse myself to the bathroom a few minutes later, and come outside to see Fernanda at the table with the guys, sitting in my seat.

Err, the empty seat.

My eyes shift over to Tacy and Georgia, bent together and whispering. Their eyes catch on mine, and I’m sure they’re talking about me. I know they’re worried, and I don’t blame them.

I pause between Marlowe and Brooks, curious as to what the four of them were discussing.

“I should probably get going,” Fernanda says, standing up and holding out her arms for a hug. She smells good, and her sweater is ridiculously soft against my bare arms when she pulls me in for a tight squeeze. “Stay safe, and call me if you need me. Text me anytime. Love you, and I’ll see you next week.”

“See you then,” I tell her, and then I say my goodbyes to Tacy, who’s clearly weirded out by my stories, and Georgia, who’s clearly worried about me.

“I want you to come over—alone. And explain all this. Not the witch stuff, but the romance. Or … is it just sex?” Georgia gestures at the men before finally tearing herself away and disappearing around the corner in the direction of the parking lot with Tacy.

“You’re not going anywhere alone,” Brooks tells me, and I bristle as I turn around to look at the three of them.

“Any takers for Fernanda?” I ask, and they all look up at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“You sent your friend over here to hit on us?” Marlowe asks, scoffing at me and shaking his head. “If I didn’t fuck Miriam, you think I’m going to fuck some random chick? What a move, Kate. Nice.”

“I … you kissed Miriam,” I murmur, and his eyes flick up to me. I’m tempted to take a step back, but I don’t move.

“Miriam kissed me, actually,” he retorts, rising from his seat to tower over me. “But you know what? I don’t give a shit. Throw as many women as you want my way. We’re a coven. I’m not sleeping with anyone else, and neither are you. This is what we have, and this is what we get.” His expression sharpens into a knowing smirk, like what we get is more like what we’re privileged to have.

Or maybe I’m just imagining it?

“If I want to sleep with other men, you certainly can’t stop me.” Those are the words that leave my mouth. All three men are looking at me now like I’m crazy.

“Do you want to sleep with other men?” Tanner asks, leaning back in his chair, expression contemplative. He isn’t smiling this time. “I mean, you’ve got a pretty good deal going here, don’t you?”

“I don’t care if North does want to sleep with other men,” Brooks begins, picking up his coffee and taking a long, slow sip. “It’s not happening. You’ll never have the chance because you’ll never be more than thirty feet away from me at any given time.”

Do I want to sleep with other men? What a question from Tanner. And then Brooks? Ugh.

“ You are making me want to sleep with other men,” I tell him, and he turns to look at me like I’m another soldier in his army. The expression makes me so angry that I end up with my hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms.

“Is that so? Well, if Tanner and Marlowe aren’t enough, it’s time we started getting to know each other in the bedroom. We can build more power by being intimate.” He sets his mug down as I gape at him. “What? You said you wanted other men. I’m making an offer. You seemed interested the other day.”

“Oh yeah, an offer I can’t refuse. Are you good and ready now?” I roll my eyes and shake my head, giving both Tanner and Marlowe looks. The former is mildly amused but also mildly jealous at the same time. Marlowe is scowling, but whether that expression is for me or Brooks or both of us, I’m not sure. “How romantic, Brooks.”

He lifts his head to look at me, and I feel a jolt of energy spike through me when our gazes clash.

“Romantic? I don’t see Tanner or Marlowe getting romantic, and you’re all over them.”

Oh. Wow.

“Somebody sure sounds salty,” I shoot back at him as Tanner snorts and stands up, gathering dishes from the table so he can carry them to the bussing station inside.

“Good luck with that, kitten,” he mumbles as he passes by. Excusing himself. Running away. Avoiding. Marlowe just puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head, reaching up to adjust a hat that he isn’t wearing. He’s cursing as he walks away, following Tanner into the cafe.

“Salty?” Brooks takes another sip of his coffee as I yank out the chair across from him and take a seat in it. My palms are flat on the table, eyes narrowed. I’m ready for a fight, and I’m curious to see if he’ll give one to me.

“Sorry, let me explain the term, old man,” I quip back at him and he laughs, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his red hair as he studies me with an expression of pure bemusement.

“Nice try, North. Salty, as a slang term, has been around since the 1920s. My father was a sailor, and people used to throw that term around a lot. What they meant back then was that he could be a mean bastard at times.” Brooks wets his lips as he studies me, this enigma draped in muscle and apathy, slumped in the metal cafe chair like he not only owns the restaurant but the entire state of California. No, no, the entire fucking country. Planet. Universe. “I’m not salty, no. I’m just saying that it’s time. You’re sleeping with Marlowe, with Tanner. Now, you’ll sleep with me.”

I just stare at him. Then I laugh. It’s hard to be angry at something so ridiculous.

“Have you sorted out those thoughts yet, South? You’re not interested in me,” I retort, but he just shrugs at me again. This bastard …

“So? Marlowe wasn’t interested in you, and you fucked him.”

My jaw drops as I sit up in my chair, wishing I had a coffee of my own to sip the way he’s doing, like each drink is a silent insult. He looks up at me over the rim of the mug, and even though his expression is blank, I can hear a hundred unsaid things.

“No. I fucked him because he started to treat me better, to open up. Same with Tanner. If you want to … pursue a relationship, then I’m suggesting you do the same.” There. I said it. The words are vulnerable, and my heart is unnecessarily soft, but I did it. I got it out there. “They both seem genuinely interested in getting to know me. You … that’s not the vibe I’m getting.”

“The vibe?” he asks, and I smirk. Guess that word wasn’t around in the fifties. He takes another mean, asshole-y sip of his coffee.

“I’m a North. Awesome. That’s it. I’m a woman, so you’ll fuck me. Cool. That’s the vibe I’m getting.” I cross my arms as Brooks holds his cup in his inked hands and frowns.

“We’re a coven. A strong coven bands together and remains sexually faithful to one another.”

I almost scream when he says it. It’s that annoying.

“I don’t want a coven,” I tell him, choking on the words as I stand up. “I want a man, Brooks. A man. Not a leader. Not a witch.” I exhale and sweep both of my palms over my hair, trying to wrangle flyaway orange strands. Doesn’t work. The salty sea breeze is twisting it into tangles.

“North—” he starts, and I cut him off.

“And stop calling me North. I’m not just North. I’m Kate. A person. A human being. And …” I swallow down a lump of feelings. “I don’t know what coven ritual you did with Tanner and Marlowe, but I’m sure it wasn’t the one we did together. And the one we did together felt like …” I almost don’t say it, but then I see Tanner and Marlowe staring at me from the front of the cafe and it just slips out. “It felt like a wedding, and you promised me that night that you’d be a husband. You’re not acting like a husband, Brooks. Just a domineering dickhead and a stranger.”

I turn away from him, but not before catching the expression on his face. Stunned. Dumbstruck. He might be the loneliest of them all, I realize, but I’m already walking away.

Brooks catches up to me quickly, grabbing my arm. When I turn to look at him, he’s softened—but only a little bit.

“North,” he starts, and I jerk my arm away from him, continuing down the sidewalk with all three witch men following after me. There’s nowhere to go, so I just circle back around and return to the truck, dragging Tanner into the backseat with me so I don’t have to sit by Brooks.

Marlowe drives, and Brooks sits in the passenger seat, casting furtive glances over his shoulder at me.

I’ve stumped the asshole coven leader. Good for me. Hopefully he learns something from what I’ve said.

I know that I learned something.

Damn. What the hell did I just say? What did I just admit?

But it’s already out there, and now the ball is in Brooks’ court.