Page 34 of A Spell for Midwinter's Heart
The cup hit the table with a hard thunking noise, falling to its side to spin.
“What the…?” said Hayleigh, gazing at the stiff amber surface of the cider, which remained frozen in the cup instead of sloshing free as it should have.
Not again. Not in front of her.
Hayleigh’s eyes flicked up at Rowan, sharp. They both went for the cup at the same moment, the other woman snatching a second faster as Dennis led the group of men back toward the table.
Rowan’s pulse raced and skipped, and she did her best to ignore the churn of her stomach.
I need to melt it.
She grabbed for bright threads of magic and focused on the image of the cider returning to a steaming liquid, pulsing intention at the meter of her heart.
The men arrived. “I think we’ve got what we need here,” said the elder McCreery. “Let’s head back to the office and wrap up, so we can send you all on your way home tomorrow to enjoy your Christmas.”
“Hold on,” said Hayleigh. “You all need to see this. The cider, it—” She lifted the cup to show them, but the liquid inside spilled over the top with the upward thrust of her arm. It soaked through her gloves in a dark, spreading stain.
No one spoke for a few seconds, only stared. Rowan released a held breath, and Gavin glanced her way.
“It what, dear?” asked Dennis.
“It…” Her mouth flapped. “It spilled, but it didn’t!”
“Well, which was it?” asked Dennis. He glanced at Rowan, who only bit her lip and shook her head.
“I.” Hayleigh stared at Rowan. Finally, she said, “Nothing. It was nothing.” Then, keeping her eyes fixed on Rowan, Hayleigh walked over to Gavin, only finally breaking her gaze to look up at his face as she slipped an arm through his. “Ride back to the office with us, Gav?”
“My car’s here—” he began.
“You can get it later. After dinner.”
Gavin hesitated before saying, “I guess that’s true.” He looked Rowan’s way and flashed a crooked smile. “Rowan.”
As they walked away, Hayleigh shot Rowan one last look over her shoulder before leaning over to whisper something to Gavin. They both laughed as they traveled away together.
A wind gusted, tossing the hat right from Hayleigh’s head into the growing snow.
Rowan’s focus was torn away from the woman’s scramble to get it back when Dennis said, “Thank you for the delicious interlude. By the way, nudge your mother to return my call? The conversation isn’t going away just because she puts it off.”
Her stomach churned at the question.
“I can nudge,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other. “But I can’t promise anything’ll come of it.”
“Oh, trust me,” said Dennis with a hearty laugh. “I am aware no one makes Liliana Midwinter do anything except Liliana Midwinter. But mention it? She’ll be doing herself a favor getting it over with.”
Folding one hand over the other, he gazed down with a paternalistic smile.
“One way or another, things’re changing. She can choose to be a part of it or be left behind.”
15
The coven should have spent the night after the Solstice in quiet recovery, but the Midwinter house was once again full of loud voices and sloshing glasses of wassail as they gathered to celebrate the blanket of snow still deepening over Elk Ridge.
There’d been a gift exchange. Rowan had received a naughty cross stitch from Birdie, a sleep tincture from Drew,Witches of Eastwickfan art from Zaide, and a chunk of pure quartz from Naomie. Her immediate family would wait to exchange until Christmas Day for her father’s sake.
Naomie was busy reading Stephan’s cards. The subject—his love life. The verdict—outlook not so good. “Remember,” added Naomie in a kind voice. “This tends to only cover the next three months. After that…” She spread her hands wide to indicate that anything could happen. Zaide held up her phone, capturing footage, a dutiful “Gram-girlfriend.” Though the poorly veiled disappointment in Stephan’s eyes tugged at her heart, Rowan was relieved not to be the target of the coven’s thirst for romantic drama for the time being.
But her thoughts kept drifting back to the moment she and Gavin had tangled on the sidewalk, and about how hard it had been not to reach up and let her fingers brush the details of his face.
