Page 29 of A Witchy Spell Ride
“Any ghosts?”
“One.” I pressed my palm to my sternum. “He lives here.”
She didn’t tease me. She reached up and patted my knee. “We’ll evict him when we’re ready.”
We didn’t sleep much after that. Dawn came like a blessing.
By nine, we were back at the shop. We did everything backwards, opened the back first, not the front, checked the markers, the chalk, the hair. All intact. No flour disturbed on the threshold where we’d dusted it before leaving. No bells chimed when we unlocked. But when I stepped inside, I felt the air shift the way it had yesterday.
I held my breath.
The counter was clear.
No rose.
No note.
No new felt on the bell.
I exhaled slowly, the relief thin and too sweet. “Maybe it was a one-off,” I said, and the lie echoed off the walls like a dare.
Briar didn’t reply. She walked to the register and looked down. “Selene.”
“What?”
She pointed at the space beside the cash drawer, just under the lip where customers couldn’t see without leaning all the way over. Tucked there, pressed into the shadow, lay a single, small petal.
Deep red. Velvet. Fresh.
I picked it up with shaking fingers and felt the softness collapse.
Briar’s eyes were flint. “It wasn’t a one-off.”
The room tilted, very slightly. I put my palm on the counter and felt wood under skin, the realness of it, the anchor I needed. “Okay,” I said, and my voice didn’t shake. “Call him.”
“Ghost?” she asked, though we both knew the answer.
“Ghost,” I said, tasting the word like medicine I didn’t want and knew I needed.
Briar didn’t hesitate. She pulled out her phone and typed, fast. I didn’t ask what she said. I didn’t want to hear the shape of my fear translated into text.
I walked to the door and flipped the sign from Closed to Open.
Because if someone wanted to play a game with me, I’d choose the battleground.
I straightened the shelves. Lit the candles. Put the rose petal into an evidence bag and slid it into the drawer. Counted the till. Answered a tourist’s question about whether frankincense could fix her ex-husband’s aura (no, but it might make her apartment smell like church).
I did the day.
I moved inside it like a woman who still owned her space.
Because I did.
Because I would.
Because love and danger might wear the same face but only one of them gets to keep mine.
Chapter Ten
