Page 52 of Magical Melee

My hands flew to my mouth in embarrassment. “I’d somehow gotten the idea it was open-ended.”

Keegan nodded. “It is. You can stay for however long you like. It’s just that most people don’t last longer than a day or two.” He watched me closely. “So, everything has been fine so far?”

I nodded, glancing at Frank. “Apart from his fluffs, the house feels spacious.”

Keegan laughed and shook his head. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome at Stonewick or the cottage. It’s just that…” He let out a deep breath and looked toward the darkening sky. “I just want the best for the people I care about, and I don’t want to let the wrong people in.”

“I’m sorry you think I might be the wrong person.”

“It’s not you who I’m concerned about, Maeve.” He shook his head. “There’s a lot of moving parts that make Stonewick work. It is home to a lot of people.”

“I won’t make any waves. I know my mom wasn’t a fan of Stonewick, but I am. This place is charming.”

“Until it isn’t.” He nodded. “But I’m sure you’ll figure that out soon enough.”

“So, you must have heard I’m working at the tea shop? Do the customers get extra feisty?” I teased.

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’m a little nervous about stepping behind the counter. It’s been a long time since I worked in customer service.” I smiled, feeling the pull to him grow. “Plus, I’m trying to figure out if I’m the caretaker of a magical cottage or the groundskeeper for a particularly eccentric forest,” I replied, arching an eyebrow. “Or maybe both?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “They’re the same here. This place has a way of blurring the lines.”

“I’ve heard that,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Everything in Stonewick seems to have layers, and yet no one will peel any of them back for me. Not even you and you’re supposed to be my… well, what exactlyareyou?”

Keegan’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by his typical guarded expression. “Just someone looking out for things and for you.”

“Uh-huh.” I folded my arms, giving him a skeptical look. “Real specific. You know, a little transparency might go a long way.”

He shrugged, not looking the least bit troubled. “Stonewick isn’t the kind of place where answers come easily. Sometimes it’s better that way.”

“Or convenient for those who don’t want to give them,” I shot back, lifting my chin defiantly.

He glanced down at Frank, who had waddled over to sit loyally by my side. Keegan leaned down, scratching behind Frank’s ear with a surprising gentleness. “And what do you think, Frank? Think your owner should take it easy on the questions?”

“I’m not his owner.”

Frank, ever the traitor, leaned into Keegan’s hand with his little face blissed out from the attention. I rolled my eyes. “Oh sure, get the dog on your side. Classic deflection.”

Keegan straightened, crossing his arms. “Maybe it’s a sign that you should go with the flow. Stonewick has a way of… unveiling things in its own time.”

“And you all just let things be, then?” I asked, feeling my frustration simmering beneath the surface. “No one in this town ever presses for answers? Tourists just wander day in and out, and we stick to our dutiful roles?”

Keegan’s gaze softened, but his eyes held that guarded intensity. “Letting go of the need for control is how you survive here. You’ll figure that out.”

I shook my head, exasperated. “How incredibly reassuring, but I don’t thinkyou’vereceived that memo. From what I’ve heard, you make plenty of night visits to people. Sounds a little controlling to me.”

He let out a low chuckle, and for a moment, I thought he might actually open up. But just as quickly, he clammed up again, his face settling back into that familiar look of restraint.

“Well,” I said, tired of chasing my own tail in this conversation, “I should probably head to the laundromat. I have to do the domestic thing, you know.”

Keegan raised an eyebrow. “I’ll come with you.”

I snorted, waving him off. “You’re serious? You want to be my laundromat buddy? What? We’ll bond over dryer lint and detergent choices while still not giving me a hint about what my life was like when I was here as a little girl?”

“Suit yourself,” he replied, his smirk returning. But as he glanced away, I couldn’t help but notice the brief look of disappointment in his eyes. Not that I was going to let myself dwell on that.

I hesitated, but the part of me that still held a little self-preservation knew better. If he couldn’t give me straight answers here, he definitely wasn’t going to do it over a pile ofdamp clothes. And after a husband who mastered giving me the runaround, I couldn’t go down that path again.