Page 21

PIPER

“ R eady to go beat someone’s head in?” Ambrose asks as we get into his car. I knew Fitz wouldn’t be effusive in her answers, but I’m disappointed she didn’t know more. Actually, I’m sure she could have shared more with us, but she chose not to.

“Not yet. I’ll let you know if I get the urge to punch someone.” I sigh as I buckle my seatbelt.

“That sounds like a lie, but as long as you don’t punch me, I’m fine with it.”

I roll down the window and let the cool air blow over my face. I’m warm from a combination of frustration and nerves. “I trust you won’t use my curse against me, but I would like to have it gone.”

“Piper, you don’t have to explain to me. I get it. I wouldn’t want anyone having control over me, either. Even if they weren’t going to use it. And I won’t.” He reaffirms as if he wants to make sure I’m clear on the matter.

Ambrose drives us back into town, pulling over next to a food truck. “Let’s get some tacos. You only ate crackers and drank juice yesterday. You must be hungry.”

My stomach growls as if on cue.

“Do I know my wife, or what?” Ambrose taps his temple and my stomach flips at the term wife . How long before the novelty of this wears off for him? How long will it take for me to break this curse so he can be free of me? What if he gets tired of me being around before I can make that happen?

“Come on. Let’s get some food and go eat by the river,” Ambrose says before he gets out of the car.

The sun is shining today, and it’s one of those true spring days when the snow has melted and everything has finally dried out.

People are jogging by on the riverfront path in shorts, despite the fact that it’s only forty-five degrees.

The sun on my skin feels incredible, and I’m tired of being cooped up after being sick.

Vendors line up along the river walk to see a variety of street foods.

People who are out shopping in all the quaint stores can grab a bite and take a seat on one of the multiple benches that overlook the water below.

Ambrose orders more food than necessary, and we find an empty bench that overlooks the Briar Hollows River. Almost all of the ice has melted from the surface, but some still clings to the edges where the water meets the shore.

I groan at the first bite of my taco, and Ambrose chuckles. “I should have fed you sooner. I won’t let that happen again.”

“I’m an adult. I can feed myself.”

“Ah, but you shouldn’t have to.” Ambrose punctuates that sentence by eating half his taco in one bite.

I quickly finish my first taco and dive in for a second.

We eat in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable.

There are so many people out enjoying the weather today that my eyes are constantly drawn to someone new every minute.

A father and daughter stop in the middle of the Briar Hollows Bridge and flip in a coin off the side.

The little girl giggles and the father squeezes her in a hug.

I relax into the bench with a satiated groan.

Ambrose hands over a bottle of cherry Coke.

This man is far too observant. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that it’s my favorite.

“Did you ever make a wish in the river?” I nod at the daughter and father walking off the bridge.

Ambrose brushes his hands together to get rid of crumbs and opens his own bottle of cherry Coke.

“No. I never believed they’d come true.” He sounds bitter for a second, but then his face breaks out into a smile.

“I did try to swim to the bottom of the river once. I convinced Bram to come with me. I was certain there was a treasure trove at the bottom, and we’d be rich if we just managed to dive down and scoop some of it up. ”

“The river has to be at least fifty feet deep in some parts.” I gape at him.

“Oh, I know.” Ambrose dips his head in acknowledgement. There’s a gentle breeze and Ambrose’s hair has more curl to it today. He pushes it off his forehead absently.

“What happened?”

“I nearly drowned. I kept going back down, over and over again, convinced there was something special waiting at the bottom. But I couldn’t get that deep. Bram finally dragged me out of the river after I nearly didn’t come back up.”

I shiver at the thought. That’s a lot of chasing for what is probably mostly pennies and nickels.

Especially since the Roth family is already rich.

Or was he searching for something else? There’re probably thousands of wishes down there.

Before we found out the truth about what happened to the Briar Witch legend said there was a stolen heirloom that fell into the river.

Turns out it was really the Briar Witch who went into the drink, not some magical object.

Maybe Ambrose was searching for that? Or maybe he was trying to prove something to himself.

We’ve all done stupid things at one point or another.

“Stellan jumped off the bridge once. When we were around sixteen.”

Ambrose’s eyebrows lift as he gets another taco out of the bag. “What happened?”

I shake my head, remembering that night.

It scared the crap out of me. “He hit the water at the wrong angle and busted up his knee. Josephine’s curse had already started, and it was painful for her to touch anyone.

Ava and I had to swim out to help get him back to shore, and then Josephine healed him, nearly passing out in the process. It wasn’t the best night.”

I stare at the river, my stomach flipping as I consider whether I should tell Ambrose this next part. It feels like a shameful secret. I’m embarrassed, even though I know I shouldn’t be.

“Tucker made me jump off the bridge once. When I was eighteen.”

Ambrose sucks in a breath. He drops his half-eaten taco into the bag, but doesn’t say anything. I keep my eyes focused straight ahead where a bird is hopping around, happily eating crumbs. With all the people out and about today, she’s having a veritable feast.

“He was angry about something. I don’t even remember what it was. Isn’t that funny.” My voice drops off into a murmur.

“Funny,” Ambrose repeats, his voice low and rough.

“He commanded me to jump off the bridge. And I had to do it. The way I landed caused me to hit my head and there was so much blood.” I pull back my hair, showing Ambrose the scar just behind my ear.

Ambrose reaches out, tracing the mark with his fingertip, causing me to shiver.

“I’d already been trying to figure out how to get away from him, but that really cemented the need to escape. ”

“That was almost ten years ago,” Ambrose snarls.

I drag my gaze from the birds and face Ambrose. “It took a long time to figure out how to get away.”

Ambrose is quiet as we pack up our trash and head back to the chateau. Regret washes over me. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. Why did I tell him that horrible story?

By the time we pull up to the chateau, I’ve almost worked up the courage to say something. To apologize for telling him about my past. To tell him it doesn’t matter now and to forget about it.

Just when I’ve worked up the courage to apologize, Ambrose grumbles, “Great.”

He exhales with a weary sound as he puts the car in park. Standing next to the front door, holding a letter, is Ambrose’s mother.