21. Wisteria

Idon't really feel like getting dressed up, but I manage to find a cute enough outfit to put together for the coven meeting–a boho-style flowy red maxi dress that buttons down the front, with little white speckles on the red background and a thin brown belt. I add a pair of pearl and silver daisy earrings and brown ankle boots to match the belt, hoping Penelope will decide I'm fashionable enough. I don't know if there's actually some kind of witchy dress code, but I look at myself in the mirror and hope this fits the aesthetic of "hedge witch." I leave my hair loose, running a brush through it in hopes that it will look decent, and call it a day.

With my leather jacket tossed over it, it actually looks pretty good, I think. Impressive, really, considering I've spent the better part of the day in tears. A little mascara helps my eyes look less puffy, and when I walk into the living room, Penelope gives me an approving nod.

"Good enough?" I do a small twirl. "Do I pass the witchy vibe check?"

"You do." She grins. "You absolutely scream I do weird things with herbs. Just looking at you makes me want a cup of tea."

"Well, you definitely look like you have a crystal ball collection." She must have changed in the guest room while I was getting ready. Earlier she'd had on a pair of black jeans, a cropped black sweater and a black leather jacket on, but now she's swapped that for a knee-length black dress with a white Peter-Pan collar, black fishnets and black boots that come up above her knees, her blonde hair pulled up in a sleek high ponytail. She does look like a blonde Wednesday Addams all grown up, although I'd never say it out loud.

"Thanks. I do. You should come see it sometime." Penelope gestures towards the door. "Ready?"

I don't know if I actually am. But I already committed, and I got dressed, so I follow Penelope out to her car–a small black Mini Cooper parked at the curb. "This is adorable," I murmur as I slide in, patting the leather seat. "I always wanted one of these."

"I love it. Her name is Agatha." Penelope starts the car, pulling away from the curb. "Relax," she adds, glancing over at me. "I promise they're going to love you."

I'm not so sure. I've spent my entire adult life without any real friends; it feels too good to be true that I could make not one, but a whole group so quickly. But I do trust Penelope, and the idea of finally finding a coven is too tempting to ignore.

"It's not far," she says, driving further into the residential part of town. "Honestly, we probably could have walked. But it's cold, and I'd rather just drive."

I think of my walk home last night, and repress a shiver.

It really is only a few miles away. Penelope pulls up in front of a cream-colored Victorian with peach trim, straight out of a picture book. "I live that way," she says, pointing down the street. "And over a couple blocks. There's a handful of houses like this that someone bought up and converted into apartments–I've been renting one of them for years."

"That sounds nice." It really does–nicer than the cramped studio in a concrete block building that I lived in for so many years, in the midst of the city noise. "You like it?"

"I love it. I thought about buying, but I don't know." Penelope shrugs. "I can't imagine why I'd ever leave, but I can't help but feel like I don't want to put down that many roots yet. Just in case." She turns off the car, pocketing her keys and glancing at me. "Ready?"

I still don't feel like it. But I nod, opening the door and stepping out onto the gravel driveway.

It smells like autumn outside, like crisp air and drying leaves, a hint of a bonfire coming from somewhere in the neighborhood. I can see pretty garden rows in front of and to the right of the house, bordered with a low cream-colored fence, matching the taller one around the yard. A warm glow of light is spilling out of the picture window on the right side of the house, and I feel a sense of peace wash over me. As if the house itself is welcoming.

I must have let out a sigh, because Penelope glances over at me. "See?" She smiles. "Nothing to worry about. Let's go in."

She hooks her arm through mine, leading me up the driveway and to the porch. I stand a little behind her as she rings the doorbell, and when the door opens, more of that warm light spilling out, I have to fight the urge to turn tail and go back to the car.

Instead, Penelope steps back a little. I can see the woman at the door–she looks a little older than me, with black hair piled up on her head in a messy bun, a face bare of makeup, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt. She's remarkably beautiful, and I feel a slight hum of magic around her, as soft and welcoming as the feeling I'd had a moment ago.

"Hi, there. I'm Margot." She smiles. "Penelope told me she'd be bringing a friend." Margot steps back, opening the door a little wider. "Come on in."

When I step inside, the air feels thick with magic. I've never felt anything like it before. This is what it feels like, I realize, my pulse quickening as I look around with a feeling akin to wonder. This is what it feels like to be somewhere that we don't have to hide. No one is trying to suppress what they are here. That feeling of welcome intensifies, and I have to fight the urge to wrap my arms around myself, almost overwhelmed with it.

The house is decorated in a country style, with lots of lacy curtains, knick-knacks, and soft colors everywhere. It smells like apple cider and cinnamon, like all the things associated with fall, and I glance back to see Penelope and Margot watching me.

"Penelope said you've never been to a coven meeting before." Margot smiles kindly–there's no pity in her voice, which I appreciate. "I'm glad we could be your first. Come with me, you can meet the rest of us."

The other women, I find out, are in the living room–what could really be termed a sitting room, in a house as old as this. There's a leaping fire in the fireplace, and a group of five other women are sitting scattered around on the soft chintz sofa and armchairs, all holding mugs and nibbling on cookies from the platter in the center of the wooden coffee table. They all look up as the three of us walk in, and Margot motions to each one in turn.

"Julia–" she points to a very petite blonde wearing a stylish sweater dress, "Felicity," a tall redhead in jeans and a loose t-shirt, "Evelyn," a brunette with glasses and a graphic t-shirt paired with jeans, "Delia," another slender blonde wearing a t-shirt dress with a jack o' lantern on it, tights and ankle boots, "and Harper." She motions to a pretty woman with chestnut colored hair wearing a tank top and high-waisted light-wash jeans. "Ladies, this is Wisteria. Wisteria, this is our coven. There's a little overlap here in our magic–we don't demand that everyone have their own unique talent. We're happy to share here."

"Is that a thing?" I glance at her, and she nods.

"In some covens, yes. Some prefer each of their members to practice a different kind of magic. But I think sharing our talents makes us stronger. Some of us even try to teach each other our magic, although there's always one kind you'll take to over the others."

There's a murmured greeting from the group, and I can feel five pairs of curious eyes looking at me. It feels appraising, although not necessarily in a bad way. I can sense eagerness, worry, curiosity, and a faint mix of other emotions that I can't quite pick out. I can't read people as easily as Penelope can, but I can feel a little of what others are giving off.

"Where does your magic come from?" Margot asks, and I turn my attention back to her.

"I'm a hedge witch." I bite my lip, unsure what reaction I should be hoping for. This is all new to me, entirely uncharted territory, and I feel adrift for the second time in as many days. I hadn't expected to have so many new experiences so quickly, when I came to Bayton.

"Oh, good." Margot beams. "You and Delia will be in good company, then. She was our only hedge witch, before this. Now, do you want cider, or tea, or mulled wine?"

I blink at her. "I can stay?"

An expression of slight confusion crosses Margot's face. "Of course. Why wouldn't you? Unless you don't want to–"

"No, I do." I say it almost too quickly, I think, but no one seems to take notice. "I just–isn't there an interview? Or an application? A trial period?"

Margot laughs softly. "No, Wisteria. We're not going to make you jump through hoops. I suppose some covens might, but here, we're all friends, and we welcome all witches. At least those who want to use their magic for good. There's no clique here, nothing you have to prove. If we don't get along for some reason, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She smiles. "Now, what would you like to drink?"

"Cider sounds nice. Thank you." I glance at Penelope, who is already scouting out a spot to sit, and follow her. Right now, familiarity is definitely what I need.

By the time Margot comes back with the cider–a real cinnamon stick floating in the warm cup–I've learned what it is that all of the other witches do. Julia is another divination witch, and Evelyn is a historian who can see glimpses of the past by touching artifacts and old documents–a kind of magic I'd never heard of before. Felicity is a medium who also runs the funeral parlor in town, and Harper focuses her magic through crystals. Delia tucks her feet up underneath her on the couch, smiling happily as she asks me about different tea blends, my family's opinions on greenhouse herbs vs. wild-grown, and how often I incorporate my magic into cooking. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I find a matching smile begins to spread across my own face.

"I feel like I'm really just now spreading my wings when it comes to my magic," I confess, taking a sip of my cider. It's warm and perfectly spiced and sends a flood of well-being through me, making me feel as if I'm warmed by it down to my toes. "I just moved here from Seattle."

Delia makes a sympathetic face. "How long did you live there?"

"Since college. My parents lived out in the suburbs, so that was a little better. But once I went to college and was surrounded by all that noise–" I wince. "The city is hard for hedge witches especially, I think."

Delia clicks her tongue. "I can only imagine. I grew up in a rural area–Bayton seems bustling to me." She laughs a little self-consciously. "But I love it here. The tourists can be a little much at times, but I love the energy of all of the locals. Being around so many magical folks makes me feel–I don't know. More alive."

"I know what you mean," I say softly. Just in the past weeks, being in a town so full of magic has made me feel as if I were sleeping through all of my life that came before. Sitting here in this room, in a space so charged with it, around other witches who have accepted me so seamlessly, makes me wish with a bittersweet ache that I'd come here years ago. That I'd accepted my aunt's invitations, instead of trying to close myself off to what I was as much as possible. I was just getting by, all this time, and I didn't even realize how much.

And Eli.Eli made me come alive in ways that I didn't know were possible. I feel that sharp, stabbing pain in my chest at the thought of him, heat prickling at the back of my eyes. That's over now, before it ever really had a chance to begin. But then again, I always knew that's what it was supposed to be.

"What do you do?" I ask Delia curiously, trying to push away all thoughts of Eli. "Do you work somewhere in town, or–"

"I'm a writer." She pushes a lock of blonde hair behind her ear a little self-consciously. "I haven't sold a book yet, but I do some articles and stuff on the side to get by. And I sell cookies and baked goods out of my house. I have chickens and a goat, and sometimes people buy fresh eggs, cheese, that sort of thing. I'm a little all over the place." She lets out a nervous laugh. "I'm kind of scraping out a living, to be honest. I've been living off of an inheritance from my grandmother for a long time."

"I'm in a pretty similar situation," I admit. "My aunt left me the apothecary–Helpful Herbs? So I'm just now learning how to run a business from scratch, and I'm using her inheritance to get by until the shop starts bringing in profit again. And I want to make some changes to it, so–" I trail off, seeing Delia's eyes widen.

"You're Eleanora Avon's niece?" She lets out an excited squeak. "And you're going to be running the apothecary? Oh, I'm so glad–I got so many of my herbs from there, when I would run out and didn't have any of my own ready to use yet. Eleanora was always so sweet." She gives me a curious look. "You're changing it? How?"

I glance at Penelope, but she's deep in conversation with Felicity, sitting closely together and looking through a tarot deck. "I've always wanted to open a bookstore and tea cafe." I bite my lip, looking back at Delia and hoping she doesn't laugh. Saying it aloud to someone other than my lawyer and Penelope, it sounds incredibly ambitious. And then, an idea springs into my head.

"Wait. Why don't you come and work for me?"

Delia looks slightly confused. "You mean, after you change things up?"

"No. I mean, yes–but also now. You're also a hedge witch–you understand herbs and remedies and all of the things that I definitely don't know as much as I should about, because I've been away from other witches for so long. I have the intuition, but not as much knowledge as I should. You can help with that! And then, once the shop is changed–you said you like to bake. We could sell your baked goods in the tea shop, and if you ever do write a book–" My words start to tumble over each other, my cider forgotten, clutched in my hands. I can feel a bubble of excitement expanding in my chest, momentarily eclipsing the ache that I feel over Eli. "What do you think? I could use the extra help, and with the inheritance I have plenty of money to pay you–"

Delia is nodding before I realize it. "You mean it?" She bites her lip. "I mean–I can come in and interview, come up with a resume, all of that–"

I shake my head. "I could use the help. I'm sure Penelope would love the help, she's my only other employee right now. She's told me that my aunt did a lot all on her own, but I need more than just one person. And I would love to have you working with me." I don't even want to say for me–it sounded all wrong, I thought, coming out of my mouth. "Just three witches, running the place. Doesn't that sound good?"

"It does." Delia smiles, excitement wreathing her expression. "It really does. So when do you want me to start?"

"Whenever you can. I'm sure you have a packed schedule of your own, but–"

Delia laughs. "Not at all. I've been bored out of my mind the last week, actually, with terrible writer's block and nothing fixing it. One of my chickens escaped and it was the most exciting thing that had happened in days. I'll come in tomorrow."

"Perfect." I remember my cider, taking a sip of it and feeling happy almost to the point of elation. After the misery I've felt since last night, it's almost like a high. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

I have a coven. I have a home. I have friends.Looking around the room, at the witches gathered together cozily chatting and sharing cookies and cider and wine, I feel more at peace than I have in a long time. Whatever else happens, I feel certain that I made the right choice in coming to Bayton. I can build a life here. It's already happening, step by step, brick by brick. And I can't wait to find out what comes next.

But that bubble pops when Penelope drops me off at my house, cautioning me not to text Eli. "Let him regret breaking things off so soon. Don't chase him." She laughed a little, trying to ease the ache that I think she could sense was already beginning to eclipse my earlier happiness. "He's a wolf, after all. He likes to do the chasing, so let him."

I walk into my quiet, dark house, and that ache spreads. Without the warmth of friends, without the distractions of the coven chatter, I feel the tug of something in my chest, like a thread wrapped around my heart, pulling me in the direction of a man who was never supposed to mean anything to me.

I glance at my phone's screen. It's eleven at night. The Howling Moon is still open, and even as I tell myself that I shouldn't go there, that even if Eli is there, nothing good can come of it, I find myself hovering in my foyer, hesitating to take off my shoes.

The need to go and see him feels like a physical one. Like hunger, or thirst. I've never felt anything like it before, and it makes me wonder if I'm losing my mind. I've never been needy, or clingy, or the kind of girl who chases a man after he says he's done. Even when I've been hurt, I've shoved it down and moved on, because out in the ‘real' world, that's just how it is most of the time for a witch. Or any supernatural person, really.

Maybe that's why it hurts more. Maybe that's why with Eli, I let myself hope for more, even though we set the parameters at the beginning. Because he's different, and I thought, subconsciously, that we would be too.

If that's really what I thought, I know I was an idiot. Just as I know I'm an idiot for calling the only Uber in this town, and taking it to the Howling Moon.

I don't even change clothes. I'm still in my floaty red maxi dress, leather jacket, and boots, pearl earrings in my ears and hair loose around my shoulders. I realize too late that if Eli is at the bar, he's going to think I dressed up for him. But I can't go back now–or rather I technically could, but it feels as if I can't. My pulse has sped up as we reach the side of town where the Howling Moon is located, the lights of the block of restaurants and bars sending an excited shiver down my spine.

I can hear the music from the bar as soon as I step out onto the sidewalk. My heart is in my throat, the anticipation of seeing Eli again shivering over my skin until I feel almost dizzy with it. It's a feeling I never experienced before him, and one that I'm not entirely sure that I like.

I'm not sure I like someone having so much sway over my emotions. With the right person, I suppose it could be thrilling and fun, but right now, it just feels a little frightening. Like I'm not entirely sure who I am when it comes to this person.

The moment I step inside and start to walk to the bar, I see that someone else is behind it. The flood of disappointment that hits me makes me falter, but with it comes questions, too. Did Eli also call off of work? Is he also upset about how things ended between us? It takes me a moment to push aside the flicker of hope that rises up at that thought, and remember that it's more likely that he was just scheduled to work the lunch shift today.

The man standing behind the bar is very different from Eli. Still tall and muscular, but leaner, with a rangy look that gives him a rough handsomeness. He's wearing a buffalo-plaid flannel with the sleeves rolled up, over a white t-shirt that has enough of a v to show a sprinkling of light-colored chest hair on tanned skin. His hair is honey blond, his jaw clean-shaven, and when he looks up I see that he has soft brown eyes. He looks at me for a moment, confused, and I remember that I'm standing dead still in the middle of a crowded bar, staring.

My cheeks flush–I've blushed more since arriving in Bayton than I think I ever have in my entire life–and I quickly walk towards the bar. I should have just turned around and left, but somehow that seemed worse.

The man flashes me a smile as I sink down onto one of the stools, still confused as to why I'm still here. Am I going to ask about Eli? Order a drink? Flirt with someone else? I didn't really have a plan when I left my house, other than to walk into the Howling Moon and see Eli, and let everything unravel from there. Now, I feel adrift.

"Hey there." The man's confusion gives way to a half-smile. "Have you been here before? New in town?"

"I've been here a few times." I can't stop myself from looking around, glancing towards the server's hallway, the back of the bar, a small part of me hoping that maybe Eli just went out for a cigarette–although I don't actually think he smokes. I've never smelled it on him, anyway.

"Looking for someone?" The man's attitude is affable, relaxed, entirely different from Eli's carefully honed charm. "Or waiting on them?"

"I–no. I thought Eli would be working tonight." The moment the words come out of my mouth, I wish that I could snatch them back. Now this man, whoever he is, will tell Eli that I was here asking about him. It was one thing to walk in, lock eyes with Eli and let the chemistry between us take it from there, but entirely another for Eli to hear secondhand that I stopped by. That just makes me sound desperate, and a little stalker-ish.

"He called off." The man picks up a glass, straining a dark-colored drink into it, and pushes it towards a brunette in a black dress sitting a little further down the bar, chatting with a short dark-haired man. "Wasn't feeling well, I guess." He pauses, looking at me with a sudden appraisal that makes me want to squirm on my barstool. "Wait. You look familiar—are you that girl he's been seeing?"

Pain stabs at my chest, because if Eli was seeing me before, he certainly isn't now. And whatever we were doing for the last two days, I don't think it was anything as official as this man is making it sound.

"No. I mean–I think yes, I am who you're thinking of. Although I don't know how many girls he's been–" Shit. Now I sound jealous. "Not that it matters. But we're not–it was just a one-time thing. Two. But not again." I press my lips together tightly, trying with all my might to shut the fuck up before I embarrass myself any further by continuing to ramble in front of this man. He obviously knows Eli–might be his boss, from the way it sounds–and I feel my face burn hotter at the thought of him relaying this conversation to Eli.

I should have never let this start in the first place.But the moment I think it–of never letting anything happen between Eli and I–my chest cramps with pain, as if rejecting the very idea that Eli and I should never have done this.

The man gives me a sympathetic look, which is somehow worse. "I see he's up to his usual ways, then," he says, and I think I detect a hint of disapproval in his tone. "I got the impression he felt a little differently about you. But Eli is–" He hesitates. "Well, from the look on your face, I think you know how Eli is already."

"He talked about me?" My voice comes out nearly as a squeak at the end, and I briefly wish I could disappear.

"Yeah. A little. Mostly because I cornered him and wanted to know what made him come into work looking like he just won the fucking lottery." The man cocks his head to one side. "I truly don't understand him sometimes."

He wipes off his hands with a towel, holding one long-fingered hand out for me to shake. "Adam Lewis. Owner of the Howling Moon, and sometimes unfortunately, Eli's friend."

"Wisteria Avon." I give him a crooked smile, feeling my mind fog with confusion. Like he won the fucking lottery? That doesn't make sense, given the fact that Eli and I were never supposed to be more than a hookup, and aside from wanting to see me again, he didn't give me any inclination that he was feeling the same pull that I was. But Adam is making it sound as if Eli has the same kind of painful crush on me that I seem to have developed for him. "I just moved here–" I break off, seeing Adam's expression shift to something I don't quite understand.

"Avon." He repeats my last name. "I don't suppose you're related to Eleanora Avon, then?"

I nod, licking my lips nervously. He looks almost pissed off, although I don't understand why. "Yes, I–I'm her niece. I inherited her shop–I'm working on getting it open again. We should be open by the end of the week."

"She was a witch." Adam presses his lips together. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do." My brow furrows. "So am I. I–that's the point of living in Bayton. Because it doesn't matter." Is he a human? Someone who secretly has something against witches? I bite my lip, confused–and then I remember Penelope talking about her friend Marley, who works here. About how Penelope had been friends with the owner of the Howling Moon, before they had a falling out.

Oh. It makes sense, then, why he might have something against witches. Penelope didn't tell me what happened between them, but I can form a suspicion, based on Adam's reaction.

But his face clears, quickly enough that I wonder if I imagined it. "Of course it doesn't matter," he says easily. "I've just lived here a while, that's all. Stopped into her shop once every couple of weeks, and she liked to talk, but I never heard her mention family. I wanted to make sure you didn't get a shock, that's all, being new here and maybe estranged. But since you say you're the same–" His gaze lingers on me for a moment, as if he's considering something. I wish, for the first time in my life, that I had the ability to hear thoughts. "Anyway, welcome to Bayton, Wisteria. Sorry for my surprise."

There's still something a little off. I can feel it. But maybe he's just like that–a little strange, or awkward. There's nothing wrong with that, and I'm certainly not anyone to judge.

"Do you want me to tell Eli you asked about him?" He's still looking at me with those brown eyes, gone from soft to keen, and I wince.

"I'd rather you didn't," I admit, and Adam chuckles.

"Eli has a way with women. Until he's gotten them in bed, and then he doesn't. Just usually, he's out of town before he has a reason to have to face up to it." Adam's mouth crooks up at the corner. "Might do him good, to have to deal with owning up to his behavior."

To my horror, I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I'm not an idiot–I know Eli has been with other women, lots of them. He all but told me as much. I know he doesn't stick around, either, because he did tell me that. But hearing it from someone else makes me feel as if that fist around my heart has dug its nails in, as if I can feel the blood trickling over my ribs. "I don't know if I want to be the one to make him do that." I swallow hard, sliding off of my barstool. This was a mistake. "You're his friend, so obviously you'll tell him whatever you want. But I'd really rather he not know I was here."

Adam shrugs, still watching me, as if trying to make up his mind about something. I don't understand what, and I suddenly very much want to be back home. "Suit yourself," he says finally. "Sure you don't want a drink?"

I shake my head, although I feel like I need one. But there's wine back at my house, and I might just polish off a bottle and pass out. "I'm okay. But thank you."

Adam nods. "Have a good night then, Wisteria."

"You too." I swallow past the lump in my throat, grabbing my purse and heading for the door. My heart is aching, tears welling in my eyes, that disappointment pressing down on my shoulders until it feels like it's crushing me.

It feels worse, hearing that Eli talked about me, in a way that made Adam think he liked me, and knowing it ended up like this anyway. That somewhere in the forty-eight hours that we spent together, something happened that made him realize he didn't like me any more than any other woman who's ever been in his bed. And I can't help but think it's something more than just his excuse that he was afraid he'd hurt me.

The easiest answer is that he did feel something more than he has with anyone else. That it scared him, and rather than try to face it, he broke things off as quickly as possible. It's so cliche that I'd almost laugh, if I didn't feel like I was on the verge of crying.

He might have claimed he didn't want to hurt me, I think, as I climb back into the silver sedan to go back to my house alone. But in the end, it didn't matter.

He hurt me anyway. And for the first time in my life, I think I know what it means to have a broken heart.