Page 49 of Hexed & Hazy

“Fine.” I huff. “All I do is work, but if you don’t find that dull, perhaps you’ll be the exception to public opinion.”

“I don’t. I work a lot too, you know.”

“That’s right. I suppose you do.”

He’s in a position so similar to Juniper’s—taking over the family business, and all the weight that comes along with it. I may not be able to understand it, but I can recognize the pressure to perform.

But it’s winter in Maine, and he owns an ice cream shop, which begs the question…

“What do you do during the off-season?” I ask, perking up.

I’ve known David for so long, but there are questions about him I’ve never considered. What are his hobbies? What does he despise? What’s his favorite ice cream flavor?

I can’t believe I don’t know the answer to that last question. He certainly knows my preference for mint chocolate chip and has teased me about it every summer for as long as I can remember.

“Winter is my favorite time of the year,” he says. “Gives me more time to focus on my sculptures.”

Right. Of course.

My lips tug up at the corners. I can recall winter festivals, with David winning so many ice sculpture contests from a young age. A prodigy, they called him.

“What kind of sculptures?” I ask. “I’m sure ice isn’t your preferred medium.”

“Nope. It’s wood. I’ve been carving a lot lately.”

“It’s nice to know you’re still working on your art. I value crafts and creations.”

“Of course you do. Athena is your patroness.”

Having spent so much time with Seth, it’s a comfort to talk to another witch—someone who isn’t my sister. David and I have different practices, but he still understands me, and something settles deep in my bones.

And he remembered my goddess. Maybe all the times I’ve been looking at Seth, David has been looking at me—though that feels impossible, considering their history.

“Mhm. Precisely.”

“And what about you? Do you still knit?”

I blink. He remembers that? My knitting is far less consequential, and I… I don’t…

“How do you know about that?” I whisper.

“C’mon. You don’t think I’ve never seen you sitting in the café, wearing that cute look of concentration while you’re knitting those scarves, sweaters, hats—I don’t know what you make, actually, but they look cute.”

My face is burning. “That’s about everything I make, yes. Blankets take too long, so I don’t bother, but don’t forget the socks. Those are important, especially in winter.”

“How much would it cost to commission a pair from you?” He chuckles. “My feet are cold these days.”

“For you? I’ll do it for free… but I haven’t had as much time to work on that as I would have liked this winter season. Or the last, really. I’ve been busy.”

“You need to make time for it.” There’s a soft, firm rumble in his voice.

I lift a brow, even though he can’t see it. “Yes, sir.”

The laugh he lets out next is loud enough to make me smile and hide my face behind my hand. Who do I think I am, making jokes like that?

“I’m going to let you go before we start something we’re not ready for,” he says. “Good night, Rowan.”

And, despite everything else going wrong, after speaking with Dave… it is a good night after all. When I go to sleep, it’s as though there’s a soft, warm blanket around me. His presence.