Page 101 of Hexed & Hazy

I think I was the one who ended it, really, but it doesn’t feel right to say. This isn’t some sort of power play. All that matters is that it’s done, but it doesn’t feel final. Maybe working on the garden with Donnie won’t bring me any closer to breaking the hex, but it might bring me closer to feeling like I’m good enough for her. Like I’m trying at something.

“Then you’re sabotaging yourself,” he says.

The same thing Rowan always said, though Donnie is way blunter about it.

My lips part, and I shake my head recklessly. “No way. I’m protecting her.”

“I think they can go together in this case.” He waves a hand. “Nevertheless, we’ll plan the first fundraising event soon. Perhaps next week?”

It’s unsurprising that he’s planning fundraising events. Donnie is known for his killer parties, and it seems like he’s using this as an excuse to plan another one. I’m not in the mood to party, but if it’s for a good cause…

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Chapter 34

Rowan

“Brought you some water,” Laurel says, setting the glass down on my desk. “Don’t forget to take your pain meds.”

I barely look at her. The blinking cursor on my laptop is taunting me instead. “I don’t need them anymore. The pain is practically gone.”

“Practically gone is not the same as gone.” She boops me on the nose. “I’ll come check on you in an hour. If your glass isn’t half-full—or half-empty, if you’re feeling pessimistic—you’re going to be in trouble.”

“Oh, I’m so sure,” I grumble.

Laurel has been babying me for a week—strange for the youngest of the family—and I know it’s on orders. Seth’s orders. She brings me soup she absolutely didn’t make, ensures my ankle is always propped up on at least one pillow, and offers bits of medical advice she supposedly learned from college—as if she ever picked a major.

No, her attempt at being my physical therapist has Seth written all over it, and there’s nothing I can do but accept his help by proxy. Within a week, I’m feeling better. Doctors confirmed it was a mild sprain, and the pain subsided.

I work almost entirely from home anyway. This injury shouldn’t affect my productivity, but getting back into the swing of things is hard… and it has nothing to do with my ankle.

Going a week without Seth in my life is strange. Even before, when we weren’t all that close, he was around. He gave me my coffee. He smiled at me, and it made my day—every day.

The sun is finally shining outside—though with unpredictable Maine weather, the snow could return any day—but I feel like I lost the light because he’s gone.

I can’t focus. The spreadsheet in front of me is blank. I’m slipping behind, setting reports out nearly a week later than I usually do. Testy emails from clients hit my inbox daily, and it’s my fault. I sowed it, now it’s time to reap for all the slacking off I’ve been doing.

Night falls, and I’ve still only finished half of what I’m supposed to do, but I can’t continue like this. I need a boost. Coffee. Or maybe something else.

I shut my laptop with a firm thud and drag myself to the window. Despite Laurel’s pestering, the pain in my ankle is gone. All is well.

Whatever is wrong with me is mental. I peer up at the sky through the living room window—at Mercury shining bright enough for me to see.

The perfect planet for matters of the mind. This is exactly what I need.

A focus spell will help; it always helped in college, and though this breakup is worse than my worst days in college, it should do the trick right about now as well.

It’s simple, one I’ve done countless times before. I flip open my usual spell book—not the grimoire of family spells, but a book of astrological magic. This spell can only be done when Mercury is visible. It uses blue crystals—apatite, sodalite, and fluorite—and a tall, thick blue candle.

Simple enough.

With delicate movements, I carve Mercury’s symbol into the candle and roll it in herbs, lighting the end until it sticks on my spell plate—carved and painted with tiny stars and moons.

The candle burns brightly—a good sign.

I pin my hair back and kneel by the coffee table, rubbing my hands together. My body grows light, floaty, and I inhale.

Focus, Rowan. It’s a simple spell. You can do this.