Page 3

3

Cinna-Boob Buns and by participating in the Finding Ceremony, you risked discovering your perfect soul match was your mortal enemy since childhood… or worse. That it wasn’t the one you loved with your whole heart.

Knowing—and accepting—the risk didn’t prevent Harry’s heart from breaking or her feet from moving when she watched Elodie’s flame come to a flickering stop right in front of Jaxon.

College, New York City, and her friendship with Cassie helped her heal over time, but sputtering down Fates Boulevard toward Pierce House, her wounds reopened and sent an aching throb through her chest.

Or maybe they’d never healed, her time away having been nothing but a shoddy bubble gum patch-up job.

The town looked the same except entirely different. Lined with small white lights, Havenhood Park’s garden paths blinked like a fairy wonderland, prepped to indulge the fantasies of the Haven’s youngest residents or the adults simply looking for a momentary escape.

Since it was nearly eleven o’clock, not much remained open, but in the morning, Ezra Carmichael and his husband, Ali, would be sitting outside the barber shop at their usual table, with large cups of untouched coffee; and Genevieve Michaels, with a broom in hand, would sweep the sidewalk in front of her antique store, Timeless Treasures. But there were definitely a few business additions to the boulevard that hadn’t been there when she’d left.

Taking a deep breath to work through the heavy anvil pressing against her chest, Harry stole a glance toward Grace. For the first time during the entire trip, the teen’s face wasn’t buried in her phone as she watched the passing scenery with wary hesitance.

“It’s not New York—” Harry began.

“You think?” Grace snorted. “The sun practically went down a few seconds ago and everything is already closed. What do people do around here for the rest of the night?”

“Sleep?” Her joke earned her a glare. “Seriously, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking. The boulevard shops usually close early when there’s some kind of community event happening.”

“Like what? Bingo?”

“Maybe.” Her lips twitched. “Or there could be a movie night at Havenhood Park or a bonfire at Mystic Lake. Fates Haven isn’t individual people all sharing the same space. It’s one big—and sometime dysfunctional—family. It’s… home.”

Folding her slender arms over her chest, Grace slumped back in her seat. “It’s not my home, and they’re certainly not my family. Mine is currently on some pointless quest to find some rando sperm donor that most definitely does not want to be found.”

The teen’s icy words sent another sliver of pain slicing through Harry’s heart. “All I ask is that you try, Grace. Just… try. Please.”

Harry’s gaze flickered to the back seat; and in that split second, she didn’t see the snarly teenager but a scared girl doing her best to hide how much she was truly freaked out. Push her right now or dare mention anything about emotions , and she’d shut down quicker than the Fates Boulevard businesses on community bingo night.

With every block they passed, more smoke plumes billowed out from beneath the car’s hood. By the time the wagon rolled to a gradual—and permanent—stop down Nora’s long driveway, the engine released one final, ear-piercing death rattle and tuckered out.

Harry felt like the damn car.

Impatient for a shower, food, and to collapse face-first on a soft mattress, she slipped out from the driver’s side and soaked in the sight of Pierce House.

Decorated with colorfully bursting flower boxes that would magically bloom all year thanks to Nora’s magical green thumb, the two-story captain-style house stood at the end of the street like a massive bookend, basked in a moony, ethereal glow.

Its large, wraparound porch had hosted more than its fair share of Teddy Bear Tea Parties and welcomed countless trick-or-treaters on Halloween nights. Harry had experienced second base for the first time on that very porch swing. It all seemed like yesterday, but the sagging swing and weathered porch’s aged wood planks said otherwise. The slightest weight could probably cave the entire structure.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Aunt Nora?” Harry murmured to herself, a weighty sadness settling in her throat.

“Wow.” Grace stopped next to her, the look on her face unimpressed. “Guess I can check ‘Living in a Horror House’ off my bucket list.”

“Gracie,” Harry warned.

Grace rolled her eyes as Harry tested her weight on the porch’s first step. The second her heel hit the aged wood, Nora’s welcome chimes, hanging from the front stoop, tinkled in a nonexistent breeze.

“You’re invited!” Her aunt’s voice filtered in with the music. “Come join us at Havenhood Park or risk boredom! And if you’re Harlow, know that I canceled the parade.”

Harry groaned. Havenhood Park this late meant one of two things. Either the entire town was present, or it was her aunt’s Craft Coven meeting. The former meant her low-key arrival wasn’t happening, and the latter meant potentially scarring the teenager at her side because her aunt’s crafting buddies were as fond of moonlight skinny-dipping as they were of plaster of paris sculpting.

Unwilling to chance either scenario and willing to do a little breaking and entering, Harry took another step and was met with both an ominous groan of wood and another musical chime.

“Before you go any further,” Nora’s magical voice warned, “you should know that the house is magically booby-trapped. Another step may lead to trapped boobies.”

Behind Harry, Grace snorted. “Is she serious?”

“Unfortunately.” Harry retreated down the steps, glowering at the offending chimes. “We’ll have to find Aunt Nora at Havenhood and get the bypass phrase.”

“Can’t you guess it or something? Or—I don’t know—use a physical key? All I want to do is eat and sleep—even if it is in the horror house.”

“No physical key. And the last person who tried guessing one of Nora’s bypass phrases walked away with a permanently enflamed pimple on the tip of their nose. It’s not worth all the magical treatments.” At least that’s what she told herself on a repetitive loop.

“I’ll stay here.” Grace slid onto the station wagon’s smoking hood. “Make sure no one steals the car.”

“I’m not that lucky.” Harry slipped an arm through the teen’s and brought her back to her feet. “But you’re coming with me.”

“Seriously? I’m sixteen! You don’t trust me to stay by myself in Bumblefuck, Colorado?”

“No, I don’t trust myself alone in Fates Haven, Colorado. If this is one of Nora’s attempts to Nora , you’ll be my voluntary sacrifice. You’ll jump into the crowd so I can make my escape. You don’t mind a little cheek pinching, right?”

“Actually, yes, I do. And why do you need an escape route if this community is family ?” Grace tossed her words back at her like the smart-ass she was.

“Dysfunctional family,” Harry corrected. “And if I hadn’t just spent a gazillion hours inhaling car fumes with a surly teenager in the back seat, then I’d be more prepared for dealing with said dysfunction. Don’t question. Just walk.”

They strode arm in arm down the sidewalk the few blocks toward Havenhood Park, the music echoing in the distance getting louder with each step. Hopefully that meant there wouldn’t be any Craft Coven skinny-dipping; and while that should make her happy, it also turned her recently consumed gas station burrito into a small boulder in the pit of her stomach.

Calling on her descry magic, Harry followed the low, warm pulse of Nora’s energy to the open area next to Pixie Pavilion.

Find the witch. Get the bypass phrase. Get gone.

That was the plan, and for once it appeared she and the teenager next to her shared the same one. Unfortunately, the citizens of Fates Haven didn’t have the same mindset. Although not as crowded as the knoll by Starlight Gazebo, the outer fringe of the park wasn’t without well-meaning people.

While most old neighbors smiled and nodded in greeting as she and Grace passed, a few more outspoken townspeople stopped her for hugs and small talk. Even more gawked and dipped their heads, whispering behind their hands.

Grace let out an irritated huff. “Not exactly subtle, are they? Or quiet.” She tossed a mini growl at a pair of teen vampires, who quickly dispersed and scurried in the opposite direction. “I didn’t realize the Runaway Witch was my guardian. And here I thought your name was Harry all these years.”

Harry barely stifled a groan at the nickname. “Please don’t tell me what they’re saying. I’d rather not know. Just… turn off your shifter hearing.”

She snortled. “We wouldn’t be here if I could.”

“Point made. Let’s find Nora, get the pass phrase, and get back to Pierce House where we can—”

“Hide? Wallow? Hunker down?” Grace lifted a dark eyebrow. “Maybe we should perform an exorcism on the place before we close our eyes. Is there a supply store around here for that kind of thing?”

“I was going to say sleep for two days straight, but those first three suggestions work, too.” Harry slid her gaze over to the pavilion and toward the abutting tree line where a long row of card tables had been set up with mounds of food.

It looked like every Fates Haven citizen brought something to the table, but Harry’s gaze landed on the bright pink-and-black-decorated section and the equally colorful older woman standing behind it.

Nora Pierce, her white hair pulled into an immaculate curly updo and wearing an eye-catching geometric dress, piled a dessert stack as high as the Statue of Liberty on a young demon’s plate before sending him on his way. His large eyes focused on his newly acquired sugary treats as he hustled to catch up with his waiting friends.

Despite it being well past the older witch’s bedtime, Nora’s eyes glittered brightly, a soft, knowing grin tilting up the corners of her mouth. Harry and Nora talked often and did the halfway meet for vacations and get-togethers, but it had been close to a year and a half since they’d had their last one.

Tears welled in Harry’s eyes. “Hey, Aunt Nora.”

Nora’s head snapped toward her and her smile was instant, stretching ear to ear as she navigated around the table much faster than an eighty-eight-year-old woman should be able. “Don’t you hey me, kiddo. Get your ass over here… both of you.”

She pulled Harry into tight a hug.

Nothing surpassed a Nora hug. Harry lost her battle against forming tears as she returned the older witch’s embrace; and then in true Nora Pierce fashion, her aunt refused to let Grace skulk in the background and tugged the teenager into her arms, too.

Grace stiffened, but as Nora quietly whispered something in her ear, the young shifter melted into the hug and even half-heartedly returned the gesture with a few awkward back pats.

Harry quickly wiped away an errant tear. The magic of Fates Haven already at work…

She hoped.

Her smile still solidly in place as she grasped the teen’s hand, Nora gestured to the park. “Welcome to Fates Haven, Grace. Ah, it felt good saying Fates Haven and not chocolate mayonnaise cake or broccoli brownie bites. Fates Haven, Fates Haven, Fates Haven.”

Harry smirked. “Taking advantage of the oath’s caveat, are we?”

“Smartest fail-safe ever created. Now that the two of you are here, I won’t have to talk about mayonnaise cake ever again.” The older witch smiled, unfazed, as she turned toward Grace. “I know it couldn’t have been easy leaving behind everything you know, but if there’s one thing the Haven hasn’t done, it’s meet a stranger. We’ll get this straightened out.”

Nora shot a meaningful look at Harry over Grace’s head. “For both of you.”

Harry swallowed a ball of emotions. “I think what we both need right now is a shower and a week-long nap. If you give me the bypass phrase—”

“Oh, that old thing?” Nora waved her hand. “There is no bypass.”

“But—”

“It’s just a deterrent system to keep people off those rickety old stairs. Well, and to keep Chuck Nolton away. I swear that man needs to learn what it means when a woman ghosts him after a good time.”

Grace seemingly choked on her own spit, but Harry couldn’t help but chuckle as the teen’s face went pink. “If there’s no bypass, I think Grace and I are heading back to the house and—”

“Eat,” Nora interjected, hauling them toward the pink-and-black polka-dot table. “Or your empty stomachs will keep you both up all night grumbling, and I just happen to be manning Marie’s table while she hits the loo.”

“Marie? Even in New York, there’s no one that comes close to Marie’s sweets.” Harry’s mouth practically watered as she eyed the very pink table and the elegant, retro-looking sign. “Wait. Does that say…?”

“Sugar Tits.” Nora beamed proudly as she put glazed rolls in Harry’s and Grace’s hands. “Marie rebranded and had a grand reopening about a year or so ago. You can imagine the starched-shirted old crones on the town council getting hit with a case of the vapors over it, but it’s been a fountain of fun.”

Grace’s eyes fastened on the sugary treat in her hands, and what most definitely looked like a centered—and erect—nipple. “Is this a boob?”

Nora nodded. “It’s a Cinna-Boob Bun. Try it. You’ll love it. It practically melts on your tongue… or if you don’t want something glazed, we have a few Erection éclairs, too. The cream inside them practically bursts with—”

“No,” Harry and Grace said simultaneously, Harry adding, “The Cinna-Boobs are just fine. Thank you.”

Grace dug into her bun, failing to mask a snort-laugh behind a fake cough. They really were mouth-meltingly good, and before she realized it, Harry devoured the entire boob. Grace did, too, for once too distracted to scowl.

“Once your stomachs are settled, I’ll go sign us up for the karaoke—”

“Uh, no,” Harry interjected, horrified at the idea of singing in public. Again. “No parade. No karaoke. It’s been a really long few days. Gracie and I just need to head back to the house and get some sleep.”

“You’re right.” Nora smiled understandingly, squeezing each of their arms. “Of course. Rest up tonight and start fresh tomorrow. I already set up your rooms. Harry, you’re in the blue guest room at the end of the upstairs hall, and Grace, honey, yours is the second door on the right. It has its own bathroom, so no sharing counterspace. I tried refreshing the atmosphere a bit, but whatever you don’t like, we can change. I’ll take any reason to go shopping.”

“My own bathroom?” Grace’s eyes lit up. “Sweet.”

“You’re giving her my old room?” Harry’s stomach twisted as she fought a fresh wave of panic.

“May as well as it’s already suited for a teenager with the walk-in closet and the bay window.” Nora grinned knowingly. “If you’re worried about the Great Escape Oak you used to sneak out for your shifter boy shenanigans, I had that thing removed years ago. It would’ve toppled onto my roof with the first snowfall in the state it was in.”

Mischief danced in the teenager’s eyes as her gaze volleyed between Harry and Nora. “ Harry? Sneaking out to meet a boy?”

Nora chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart. The things I could tell you.”

“Please don’t,” Harry interjected. “Ever.”

Both Nora and Grace chuckled, and the sight and sound of the teen’s small grin brought a flutter to Harry’s heart. She reined in her brewing emotions so she didn’t spook Grace into shutting down.

“Grace, honey, why don’t you grab one of those pink boxes, fill it up to the brim, and take it back to the house. We’ll have a sugary breakfast of champions in the morning.” Nora waited as Grace got busy, shoving a bunch of Cinna-Boobs and Erection éclairs into the bakery box.

With Grace distracted, Nora returned her assessing gaze to Harry. The older witch always saw so much more than she ever said aloud. Time melted away and Harry’s sixteen-year-old self stood in the Pierce House living room after a bonfire party, trying to convince her aunt she hadn’t downed half a bottle of peach schnapps.

“Not that you’re not always gorgeous, but you’re a tired gorgeous, sweetheart. You look like you could sleep for a year,” Nora admitted.

“Then I look exactly how I feel. It’s been… rough. The last few months especially.” She snuck a look at Grace, making sure she was still occupied. “Just when we think we may be close to answers, something comes along and knocks it away. And it happens often enough that it’s hard not to get discouraged. Especially for Gracie.”

“And for you.”

“I’m an adult. It’s different for Gracie… and with Cassie gone right now trying to find the most elusive of shifters? Things have been tense.”

“She’s no closer to finding the father?”

Harry sighed. “Two steps forward and about twelve back. He hadn’t been kidding when he told her that he kept a low profile. No profile would be more accurate.”

During their eight-hour night stand at a music festival, “Luke” and Cassie exchanged first names and nothing else. Well, except body fluids. But they’d parted and her friend had been left with great memories, a warm glow, and a little bun in the oven.

Nora squeezed her hand. “I know it’s been hard with Cassie gone, but that girl has you looking out for her, too. That counts for something.”

“Not so sure she sees it that way. Everything I say or do is wrong. Cassie checks in when she can, but the check-ins are getting more and more infrequent. I can feel Gracie pulling further away. Tonight was the first time I saw her lips twitch into something that wasn’t a snarl in months.”

“We’ll figure all of it out, but the important thing is that you’re not alone anymore. The people of Fates Haven are nothing if not resourceful.”

Harry eyed the Sugar Tits table and smirked. “Is that why Marie now makes Cinna-Boob Buns and Erection éclairs instead of blueberry scones?”

Nora lifted what Harry guessed to be an éclair from a plate. “Oh, she still makes those, too, but they’re called Blueberry Ball-Busters.”

“An erotic bakery in quaint little Fates Haven… who would’ve thought.”

“I did. Who do you think gave Marie the idea when she said she needed to find a fresh spin to put on the bakery?” Nora winked and they both laughed. “You made the right decision in coming back to the Haven, sweetheart. This is exactly where both you and Grace are meant to be.”

“I just hope the Rocky Mountain Pack can help give us some answers. She hides it behind a wall of snark and attitude, but Gracie’s scared. Hell, I am, too. I don’t know what we’ll do if Alpha Atwood can’t help. It’s a miracle the last sparkage only singed our curtains and didn’t burn down the entire apartment building.”

Something glittered in Nora’s eyes as she patted Harry’s hand. “There’s no doubt in my mind that Alpha Atwood can help.”

“But that is a task for tomorrow morning. Ringing Patty right now definitely won’t put me in her good graces.” They’d always gotten along, Patricia acting as a stand-in mother when Harry’s own moved from one archaeological dig to the next.

But that was before Harry left town without saying goodbye to anyone.

Before she’d placed the anti-tracking spell so no one could follow.

Most people in the Haven would probably welcome her back with open arms and curious questions, but there was at least one who definitely wouldn’t.

A severe bolt of pain ripped through her chest as she conjured the mental image of Jaxon Atwood. Once upon a time, Jax had been her world; and in the blink of an eye and a flash of flame, he’d ended up her one and only heartbreak.

As Harry’s mental image of Jax slowly melted away, so did the heartburn from hell, leaving behind a heated tingle that had her rubbing her sternum. Out of habit, she released a small thread of descry magic and instructed it to seek its source.

It didn’t take long to find it standing next to Pixie Pavilion.

Wearing faded jeans and a soft, muscle-hugging T-shirt, the brooding figure was broader and much harder than in her memory. More than a few days’ worth of stubble peppered his angular jaw, not quite thick enough to hide the wild tick of his jaw muscle as he clenched his teeth.

And his eyes…

Silver eyes were lasered on her, a metallic shimmer signaling that his inner mountain lion wasn’t far from the surface. He stood still as a statue, a predator waiting to make that final pounce. Unmoving. Unblinking.

He was the one person who definitely wouldn’t welcome her return with smiles and fanfare.

Jaxon Atwood.

The Alpha’s son.

And her not-so-fated after all.