Page 62 of Where the Roses Bloom
And Whit? Well…he was applauding like an asshole.
“Well. Damn,” Whit said. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve been busy lately.”
“Can you knock?” Willow asked from somewhere behind my back.
“In our brother’s house? Hell no. This was a drop-by. Brought y’all peach fritters, if you wanna salvage breakfast.” Beau set the paper bag on the counter and lifted his hands. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your…rituals.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Real generous of you.”
Beau turned away as soon as the paper bag was on the table, giving Willow at least a shred of dignity. “We knocked,” he muttered. “Kinda. Maybe.”
“You threw the door open,” I shot back.
“Thought you were makin’ bacon, not a family,” Whit teased.
“Whit,” I growled.
“We wanted to check in,” Beau chimed in, hands raised in surrender. “The town’s feelin’ real different lately, and now I see why.”
Whit was still grinning, propped against the doorframe like he’d paid good money for this shit.
But then he faltered a little, head tilting like he was noticing something new. His grin softened—not gone, but quieter.
“Shit,” Whit muttered. “No wonder the whole place feels off. Y’all stirred somethin’ up.”
Beau’s gaze shifted between us—me tense, Willow tucked close to my side, her hand resting on my hip like she couldn’t quite let go. The air in the kitchen felt thick, charged, like the magic still clung to us.
Beau rubbed the back of his neck. “Flowers bloomin’ out of season. Power flickers at night. Delilah says she’s been dreamin’ about witches and roses. And now this… Whatever y’all did? It’s rippling out. I can feel it.”
Willow peeked out now, still half-hiding behind me, but steadier.
Beau offered her a smile. “Whatever y’all are doin’? Keep goin’. Looks like it’s workin’.”
I cleared my throat and stepped in front of her again, shielding her like that’d do anything against two grown-ass men who’d already seen far too much.
“All right,” I said tightly, “y’all delivered the fritters, saw more than you had any damn right to, and dropped your little prophecy of the week. Now get the hell outta my kitchen.”
Whit snorted. “You always get like this after you come?”
Willow let out a strangled sound behind me that might’ve been a laugh—or a threat—but before I could snarl another warning, she spoke:
“He actually only gets like this when he hasn’t come yet, so…I suggest you leave.”
My brothers stared at her over my shoulder like she was from another planet.
Then Beau held up both hands. “Fair enough. We’ll go.”
He started backing toward the door, Whit dragging hisfeet behind him like a toddler who didn’t want to leave the circus.
“I swear to God, Whit?—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’,” Whit muttered, snagging a fritter on his way out and stuffing half of it in his mouth. “Just sayin’—if y’all summon a horny demon or some shit, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The screen door creaked, slammed.
Silence.
Willow sighed and melted against my back, the tension finally leaving her limbs. I reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles.
