Bryony stepped toward him, wand an inch from jabbing him in the chest.
“Shut it, O’Hara,” she said. “Don’t you dare talk like that. Like we’re best friends and you know every little thing that makes me tick. Because you don’t.”
Sean laughed, dry and bitter. He turned away, shaking his head.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he said.
“What?” Bryony said, sharp, barbed, like a weapon to stab him in the heart.
“I’ve been paying attention, Bryony Torres,” Sean said. “Much more than you will ever give me credit for.”
Then he walked out the door and when it closed behind him with a thunder of finality, Bryony felt a pang echo in her chest as if she had lost something she never even realized she’d had in the first place.
***
The day of the Samhain celebration at Pagan Posies dawned in vibrant gold, red, and orange leaves. Sean was nowhere to be found and Bryony didn’t try to look for him. She was too busy casting enchanted decorations over the entrance or directing visitors to the buffet tables.
Barrels of spiced apple cider arrived from the Tipsy Cauldron. Baskets of fresh baked apple bread, pumpkin pie cupcakes, and clove cookies arrived from The Eye of Newt.
Sky arrived with Aiden, her arm tucked into the crook of his elbow. She brought vats of her famous harvest tea for the celebration, smelling of apples, cinnamon, and vanilla.
Sky produced a jangling dark blue pouch with a white drawstring.
“Pennies for our pumpkins,” she said. “I brought enough for the kids to join in, too, if they wanted.”
“Perfect,” Bryony said with a smile. “Grab yourself some pie or a caramel apple or something and I’ll meet you in the orchard in ten minutes.”
Sky rested her chin on Aiden’s shoulder. “No rush,” she said. “Take your time. I’ve been looking forward to this celebration all year and I’m not leaving until the sun rises.”
Before Bryony could reply, something caught Sky’s attention past Bryony’s shoulder. She touched Bryony’s arm.
“Bianca just arrived,” she said. “And she has Kaleb with her. I just love his little toes. And he’s getting so big so fast.”
Sky headed straight for Bianca, Aiden in tow. Sky never had siblings so she had taken to the role of sister-in-law in no time at all. Bianca and Sky got along as if they’d known each other their whole lives. And Sky adored being an aunt to Bianca’s son, Kaleb.
Bryony watched as Sky scooped Kaleb into her arms and kissed his round, rosy cheeks. Aiden slid a hand around Sky’s waist, smiling softly at her with unbridled affection. Sky didn’t even realize it. She was loved so thoroughly, every minute of every day.
A chorus of laughter echoed off to her right and Bryony turned to see Hazel’s Windywings students come running out of the trees, ghosts chasing after them as they shrieked with joy. They gathered around Hazel, clamoring for her attention and she touched each child in turn with a stroke to their hair or a hand cupped to their cheek. No matter how many students she had, she always made sure no one was lost or forgotten in the chaos.
Again, Bryony couldn’t shake the feeling that it seemed as if she was sitting still while the rest of Wildemoor was whirling around her.
She tucked her hands in the pocket of her coat and her fingers bumped against something smooth and rounded. She pulled it out to find Sean’s acorn, still gleaming a dull, earthen brown.
Everything I was never very good at saying.
Bryony brushed her thumb over the nut’s smooth surface. And for the first time, she could feel the warmth of magic inside it, humming and vibrating.
It was an enchanted acorn. And enchanted acorns always held something inside them. They were never ordinary.
Bryony slipped into the orchard. The golden light from the Samhain festival fell away, melting into the chilled blue-gray of the night. She cupped the little acorn in her palms like a precious piece of gold until she was so far away from the celebration that the lanterns looked like lightning bugs, blinking little dots on the horizon.
She brought her cupped hands up to her mouth and whispered, “Show me.”
The acorn shivered out of her hand and tumbled to the ground. As soon as it touched the soil, a flair of sparkling purple mist exploded upward in a cloud of magic, making it look as if an entire galaxy had descended on the earth and swallowed Bryony whole.
The purple mist faded away to reveal a giant oak tree towering over head. Fat brown acorns dripped from the branches, glowing golden in the darkness.
Bryony reached up and touched an acorn. It dropped to the ground and cracked open, spilling images, color, and light into the air.
It was a memory. Sean’s memory. His first day at school. And the first time he caught a glimpse of Bryony.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The memory showed an image of Bryony sitting beneath an oak tree outside the schoolhouse, her head tipped back, her knees drawn up to her chest. She was about Seline’s size and her hair was frizzy from the humidity—a halo of reddish orange around her face. She was grinning from ear to ear, watching the sunlight dancing in the leaves.
Sean’s thoughts echoed, faint and soft in the memory.
She’s cute.
Bryony’s heart pounded so hard that her chest hurt.
In the memory’s vision, Sean approached Bryony, chanting under his breath, Don’t be stupid, play it cool.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Sean.”
Little Bryony turned to look up at him.
“I’m Bryony,” she replied. “Are you going to Windywings, too?”
Little Sean nodded. He plopped down beside her, uninvited, and jostled his shoulder against hers hard enough to make her head bob.
“What did you do to your hair?” he said.
Little Bryony’s smile faltered instantly and she reached up to wrap a curl around her finger, self-conscious.
“Nothing,” she said. “That’s just how it is.”
“It’s fuzzy.”
Little Sean took a curl between his fingers and tugged a little too hard. Bryony shoved him in the chest, sending him sprawling on his back. She shot to her feet.
“You’re stupid, Sean O’Hara,” she declared. “Leave me alone. And don’t touch my hair again.”
Little Bryony stomped off. Little Sean remained sitting there on the ground, rubbing his chest where Bryony had shoved him.
Why did I do that? He thought. I was trying to compliment her and it came out all…wrong.
The memory faded out and the shadows draped the branches of the oak tree again in gray and black.
“No, no, no,” Bryony muttered. “Wait, that can’t be all of it. There has to be more.”
She practically jumped for a second acorn, tossed it to the ground.
Another memory burst open in a haze of purple.
Sean and Bryony were teenagers. He was fifteen, she was thirteen. He was long, gangly limbs and she still had round cheeks. A group of kids were rough-housing around the pond at the edge of her property, flinging mud and shoving each other into the water.
Bryony had found a small pine tree at the edge of the forest, away from the other kids. It was twisted and stubby with the overgrowth choking it. If she didn’t help it to grow, it would wither and die without sunlight.
Sean came up behind her, dripping wet, skin gleaming in the sunlight. His hair fell into his eyes and his shoulders had grown broader over the summer from working odd jobs here and there.
He propped his hands on his hips as he looked at her, studiously bent over the runt pine tree.
She’s so devoted and patient, he thought.
But when he opened his mouth, what came out was the opposite of his thoughts.
“Hell’s bells, you’re crying over a tree?” he said.
Bryony shot a dark look over her shoulder.
“I’m not crying,” she said.
She wasn’t, that was true. Her eyes were dark with a smoldering fire and her s
houlders were set in a rigid line that meant she would willingly take him on in a fight if he continued down the route he was going.
She’s gorgeous, he thought. Sometimes it’s hard to think straight around her.
He clearly wasn’t thinking when he spoke in the next moment.
“What’s the big deal then?” he said. “It’s just a tree. Get over it.”
“It needs help,” Bryony protested. “Look, it’s all bent over and weak from no sunlight. The other trees are pushing it out. I can feel its pain, too. It’s left out and alone.”
Sean glanced at the tree. But it didn’t seem special to him in any way. It appeared dumpy and spindly, not worth the effort she was so intent on giving it to make it grow.
“Bry,” Sean said in a dry tone. “There are plenty of trees to choose from. You don’t have to waste your time on that frumpy little thing.”
And he scooped her up, flinging her over his shoulder.
“Sean O’Hara, put me down!” she shrieked.
She pummeled her fists against his back, hard enough to leave bruises. She squirmed and flailed as he carried her to the pond.
“No,” she said as she realized where he was taking her. “Sean, I don’t want to swim!”
Sean wasn’t listening. He had his arm around her waist and her fingers were digging into his back. For years, he had tried to get this close to her but she always kept her distance.
“It’s about time you joined us and had a little fun,” Sean replied, preparing to throw her in.
But Bryony kicked him in the gut so hard that she knocked the wind out of him. He went tumbling to his knees and they both fell in the pond.
Bryony came up sputtering, soaking wet, her shirt dripping down to her knees, her hair plastered to her face as she stormed onto the bank, slipping in the mud.
Sean surfaced from the water, laughing and gasping for air at the same time.
“I hate you, Sean,” Bryony spat, her voice trembling.
Sean watched her go, her wet shirt clinging to her back and shoulders.
All he could think about was the feel of her skin beneath his hands, how warm she was, the way she’d looked at him—angry, yes, but she was still looking at him.
That was all he wanted. The only thing he cared about was having her attention and he didn’t know how to get it any other way except to annoy her, to irritate her until she snapped.
The memory cut off and went dark, just as the first one had before.
Bryony stood beneath the enchanted oak, struggling to catch her breath.
“Sweet Hecate have mercy,” she muttered. “This can’t be…this can’t be true.”
The wind picked up, sending a ghostly chill shivering along her spine. Bryony tugged her coat tighter around her as the acorns rattled and bobbed in the wind. An acorn popped off and tumbled to the ground. The cap tipped open and purple mist crept out to reveal a more recent memory.
Sean had arrived at Wildemoor after years of being absent. He stopped at the edge of the pumpkin patch at Pagan Posies and there was Bryony, a pumpkin in her arms. Her hair had grown out to a tangled mass of curls down to her waist. She wore black jeans, torn holes at the knees, heavy black combat boots, and a baggy cranberry red sweater with the silhouette of trees embroidered along the cuffs that she pulled down over her hands.
His thoughts whispered in the leaves overhead.
Hell’s bells, he thought. I love her.
Bryony reached out, trailing her fingers through the purple memory as it faded out. Her hand settled against the rough bark of the oak tree for a moment.
And she took off running.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bryony ran the whole seven miles to Sean’s house. She didn’t realize she’d left her broom behind and could have flown, cutting the time—and exertion—in half but she wasn’t about to turn around and fetch her broom now.
Her heart felt as if it would pound out of her chest as she realized what she was doing. Running straight toward what she had been running from for nearly her entire life.
But when she banged her fist on the door and Sean answered, the sight of him was all she needed to calm her racing heart.
He was what she wanted. He always had been.
She stood there for a moment, gasping for breath, sweat streaming down her face, plastering her hair to her face and neck.
“Sean,” she rasped.
His name sounded so…good, it tasted right in her mouth. In the past, she had hissed his name through her teeth with a bitter aftertaste.
But not now. Not after what she’d witnessed beneath that enchanted oak tree.
“I saw…” Bryony panted. “I saw…everything.”
A flicker of something passed across Sean’s eyes before he tucked it away again. He remained silent, one hand on the doorknob. He wasn’t shutting the door in her face which she took as a sign to continue.
“Your memories, Sean,” Bryony said, part plea. “I opened them. I watched them.”
She reached out hesitantly and took his wrist, turning his hand palm up. The skin of his wrist was smooth and warm and she wanted to hold on forever.
She pressed her own acorn into his palm.
Without another word, she turned and walked away. Slowly. She needed to give Sean time to open the acorn, to see its contents, and to catch up to her.
Come on, come on, come on, she coaxed.
The further away she walked, the more her heart sank.
Sean wasn’t coming.
She was too late.
***
Bryony reached Pagan Posies alone. She stood at the top of the hill overlooking the celebration. Young witches and warlocks went racing by, bags of candy dangling on their arms. The smells of tea and cider and food wrapped around her in warmth and comfort and familiarity.
She had laid her heart bare to Sean and it had been for nothing. After all this time, she had thought he hated her. That he teased her because he didn’t like her.
But that wasn’t true. He teased her because he didn’t know how to express the tangled emotions she raised in his heart. The same could be said for her. For so long, she thought she had hated him and she clung to that hate like weapon. Sean had called it a shield and he was right.
He’d been right all along.
By the time midnight rolled around, the festivities were still in full swing. A bonfire was lit, climbing high into the sky with flames of bright gold and raging reds. The penny pumpkins that Bryony had taught her class to enchant were scattered throughout the landscape, glowing with jack o’ lantern faces, some of them gleaming copper-penny colored, others the solid smooth flesh of orange.
A figure on the path close to the house caught Bryony’s attention as she poured herself a cup of cider. Her cup dropped to the ground, cider spilling into the dirt.
Sean made his way down the hill toward her. He stopped beside her, not touching, leaving a respectable distance between them.
“Hi,” Bryony said, wide-eyed.
“Hi,” Sean said softly.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply stood there, staring at each other.
What was he thinking of that acorn she’d given him?
Then Sean reached out and curled his fingers around her wrist, sliding down to interlace his fingers with hers.
“Can we talk?” he said. “Somewhere quiet?”
Bryony nodded, her throat tight, her heart picking up speed again. She led him past the buffet tables, past the pumpkin patch where they met again less than a week ago. Past the jack o’ lanterns. Past the orchard. She stopped at the edge of the forest. A few wild mushrooms peppered the grass in globes of puffball white and crimson red toadstools. Autumn leaves whisked down from the trees, landing in a carpet of bright colors at their feet.
Bryony slowly turned to face Sean. His cheeks were flushed with the cold and his breath was frosted white in the air.
“You never told me,” he said. “I didn’t know your dad skipped out on you
.”
Bryony slid her eyes closed. She never told anyone. She hated to admit to herself and she did everything she could to forget it, to forget him. She had spent almost her entire life on the run, trying to get that memory out of her head.
But it never worked. The memory had lingered there at the forefront of her mind until she had entrusted it to Sean.
“It was a long time ago,” she said, releasing a shaky breath.
“Still hurts, I’d imagine,” Sean replied.
Bryony nodded. “I was barely older than Poppy. Then Galen came along a year later and he just…slipped right in with Mom and I. Like he’d been part of the family forever. There was no question he belonged.”
Just like you, Bryony thought.
Sean had slipped into her family and she had resented him for it because of how well he fit in, how clearly he belonged.
Sean shifted closer and brushed his knuckles across Bryony’s cheek. This time, she didn’t fight the physical contact. She didn’t push him away or flinch or grit her teeth and growl.
She simply closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. How could she have denied herself such a wonderful indulgence for so long?
“I’m not going to leave you, Bryony,” Sean whispered.
“How do you know that? Maybe you’ll change your mind. Maybe I’ll be too much for you.”
Sean shook his head. “Never going to happen.”
Bryony opened her eyes to look at him. He sounded so sincere that she wanted to believe him but a small part of her still held back, waiting, watching for signs that he didn’t mean what he said.
“I loved you since that first day of school,” he said. “With your curly hair all tangled with twigs and leaves.”
He reached up to pluck a leaf from her hair with a laugh.
“Some things never change,” he said.
He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, his skin warm and soft and feeling so good against hers.
“There’s never been anyone else, Bryony Torres,” he said. “Just you. It’s always been you.”
Bryony placed her shaking hand in the middle of his chest.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.
Spelled Kiss (Coven Corner Book #2) Page 10
