Page 25 of Curses & Cold Brew
“If you need me to move, just say so,” I said wearily, my eyes stinging from staring at the faded cursive for hours.
“We don’t need you to move,” Harlow replied. “Not that many people are looking for cinnamon crumble muffins and flat whites at”—she looked at her watch—“eight o’clock at night. Stay as long as you like, but we are closing soon, just so you know.”
“What?” I exclaimed, looking up at the clock mounted above the register and then to the upturned chairs and freshly mopped floors. “Goddess.” I rubbed my eyes, suddenly realizing I’d been deep in focus for hours. “You closed up ages ago.”
Harlow waved a hand. “It’s fine. You seemed like you were in a trance or something, and I didn’t want to interrupt.” She slid a plate of pastries across the table—one I hadn’t even realized was there. “Muffin?”
“Thanks.” I only realized that I was hungry when the smell of apple butter and walnut crumble filled my senses. “I appreciate it,” I added through a mouthful.
“Everything okay?” Harlow hedged.
“Yep.”
This wasn’t the first time I’d used research as a coping mechanism. A good deep dive into the pages of books older than my grandmother always healed my worrying mind.
Well, it usually did.
Tonight, I was left with more questions than answers.
I was still grappling with what Ramona had said, that she “cared” about me but didn’t want me around anymore. What was I supposed to do with that? What did it even mean? I didn’t know, but goddess, it meantsomething, and my anxious brain was determined to distract me from examining it any further by doing an entire PhD amount of research in three days.
The echoes of that moment rattled through me, filling me with equal parts excitement and dread. Whenever I was around her, I was free-falling, just waiting for when I would finally land, and when I did, when she and I collided, I knew it would be earth-shaking.
When Harlow didn’t move, I peeked up from my studies, chipmunk cheeks full. “Is there something else you wanted?”
“Oh no.” She didn’t move. “It’s just . . . well . . . I just wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me?” She pressed her lips together as if trying to keep the word vomit at bay, but she couldn’t help herself and it all tumbled out. “I mean, this might just be an ADHD thing, or maybe I’m really missing the whole picture, but it seems like you are really unhappy everytime I come around lately, and we used to be tight, but now it seems less so, and I know it’s probably my fault. Jordyn and I have been having a lot of solo time, but I never wanted to make you feel left out. It’s just between shifts at the café and the apothecary, we get so little time together, and I want you to have your friend time and I want us to have our friend time too, ‘cause we’re still friends, or at least I hope we are?—”
I reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Breathe,” I instructed with all of my apothecary healer calm.
She took a deep, gulping breath, face red as she panted. “Sorry.”
“You are my friend,” I said slowly so her overwhelmed mind could hear me. “And I have been a little surlier than usual about your relationship, if I’m being honest. But it’s not your fault at all. It’s a me thing. I just feel kind of lonely and left out, I guess.”
Harlow nodded. “You’re important to me, to us, Iris. We should make more time to be together. Or at least, I’d like that.”
“I’d like that too,” I admitted.
Willow stormed through the back door, jolting us out of the conversation. She slammed the door behind her and locked it.
“Jeez, Willow, you okay?” Harlow asked.
“Don’t follow me!” Willow screeched, her voice sounding watery, as if she’d been crying. Harlow stood, and Willow, even though she’d disappeared upstairs to her apartment, called, “Seriously, Harlow. I want to be left alone right now.”
Harlow slumped back down, her brows pinched in concern.
“Where was she coming from?” I asked.
“She said she was going to drop something off at the bakery,” Harlow replied. “I don’t know. You think . . .” She eyed me. “Something happened between her and Wyatt? I mean, I know they’re not officially together, but maybe she caught him with someone else?”
“We’re talking about the baker, right?” My eyes flared in confusion. “Wyatt? The werewolf with puppy-dog eyes who looks at your sister like she hung the moon? That Wyatt?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Harlow muttered. “That can’t be it.”
“Are they even together? Like, I keep thinking they are, but?—”
“Willow hasn’t told me anything,” Harlow admitted, seemingly hurt that her sister would keep such things a secret. But maybe they didn’t even see it themselves yet. Sometimes a person could have a freaking “I love you” sign stapled to their forehead and the other person still wouldn’t believe it. “But I did catch them hugging through the window of the bakery the other night,” Harlow added. “So, I know that something is going on there, but as of yet, not a single Maple Hollow resident has seen them kiss, so . . .”
“If they did, someone in town would know.” I snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more gossip. Everyone in this town knows everyone else’s business.” I took another bite of my muffin. “Oh, by the way, Randy has formally requested that you and Jordyn stop hooking up in the pumpkin patch.”
