Page 38 of Magical Melee (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #1)

The day after Thanksgiving dawned quietly as if the world itself was catching its breath. Snow had started falling overnight, dusting Stonewick in a soft blanket of white.

The streets were hushed, save for the occasional crunch of boots on snow or the distant sound of laughter from children enjoying the season's first real snowfall. The town, usually bustling with energy, seemed content to settle into the inviting rhythm of winter.

It was hard to believe that only days ago, witches and mages swarmed the woods and protected everything held dear about this little town.

No make-believe.

Real magic.

I sat by the front window of the tea shop and wrapped my hands around a steaming mug of spiced chai.

Frank lay sprawled at my feet. His snores lent a gentle counterpoint to the soft crackle of the fire.

Outside, snowflakes danced lazily in the breeze, swirling around the lampposts and dusting the cobblestones. It was peaceful, almost too peaceful, given everything that had happened.

The memory of the battle still felt fresh. The adrenaline, the fear, and the brief but powerful sense of triumph coated me like a wool blanket.

But now, in the quiet aftermath, I found myself questioning everything. Could we really hold them off indefinitely? Was I strong enough to be the person they needed?

I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the warmth of the tea in my hands. Stella had gone out to run errands, leaving me to mind the shop. The quiet should have been soothing, but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Frank,” I muttered, looking down at him. “Am I overthinking everything?”

He opened one eye, gave a soft huff, and promptly went back to sleep.

Typical.

I smiled despite myself, but my thoughts kept circling back to something else—something that had been gnawing at me since before the battle.

It wasn’t about Shadowick or the Academy. It was a conversation I’d had in the knitting shop with the woman who had helped me pick out yarn for Celeste’s scarf.

She’d mentioned something, almost in passing, about not living up to her family’s expectations. At the time, I’d brushed it off and focused on finding the right shade for Celeste.

But now, with everything weighing on me, her words felt more significant. Seeing her in the woods, battling for the greater good, told me she should have exceeded her family’s expectations if anything.

I stood, setting my mug on the counter. Frank’s ears twitched as I grabbed my coat, but he didn’t stir.

“Stay here,” I said softly, scratching behind his ears. “I won’t be long.”

I turned the shop sign to closed, knowing Stella would understand. The streets weren’t busy, and this was calling me.

The air outside was crisp, the snow crunching underfoot as I made my way down the street. The knitting shop was just a few doors down.

Its cheerful display of colorful scarves and mittens stood out against the snowy backdrop. The bell above the door jingled as I stepped inside, the warmth and smell of wool immediately wrapping around me like a cozy blanket.

The woman behind the counter looked up from her knitting and smiled. “Maeve, back so soon? How’s the scarf coming along?”

It was too funny how we’d just braved a battlefield, but in the confines of town, it was business as usual. Her and her yarn and embroidery thread, and me and my tea.

“It’s coming,” I said, pulling off my gloves. “Though, I could probably use some pointers.”

She chuckled, setting her knitting aside. “Happy to help. What brings you in today?”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing around the shop.

The soft click of knitting needles filled the air as a few other customers worked on their projects.

“It’s something you said the last time I was here,” I began, my voice quieter than I intended. “About not living up to your family’s expectations.”

She raised an eyebrow, her smile fading slightly as she gestured to a nearby table. “Why don’t we sit?”

I nodded, following her to the corner where a pot of tea and a plate of cookies waited.

She poured me a cup, her movements graceful and practiced.

“Funny how things stick with you,” she said, settling into her chair. “What about that stuck out?”

I wrapped my hands around the warm teacup, trying to put my thoughts into words. “I guess… it made me think about my own family. About how I’ve never really felt like I fit the mold they had for me.”

She nodded, her expression understanding. “Family expectations can be a heavy weight, especially when you feel like you’re falling short. What about your family’s expectations weigh on you?”

Funny how she turned this around.

I took a sip of tea, letting the warmth steady me. “My mom always pushed me to be practical, to settle down, to follow a path she thought was best. And for a while, I did. But now, everything’s changed, and I’m not sure where I fit anymore.”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes kind. “Sometimes, breaking away from what others expect of us is the bravest thing we can do. But it’s not easy, especially when you’re still figuring out who you are.”

Her words resonated deeply, and I felt a knot of tension in my chest begin to loosen. Here I was in my middle forties, trying to figure out who I was. Last year, I thought I knew.

“How did you deal with it?” I asked. “The pressure, the expectations?”

She smiled softly. “By realizing that my worth wasn’t tied to anyone else’s vision of who I should be. I found joy in small things, like knitting, and let that guide me to a life that felt right for me.”

I glanced around the shop, taking in the vibrant yarns, the laughter of the customers, the peaceful atmosphere. It was clear she’d created something special here—a space where people could find comfort and creativity.

“Do you ever feel like you made the wrong choice?” I asked quietly.

She considered this for a moment before shaking her head. “No. The path wasn’t always clear, but it was mine. And that made all the difference.”

I nodded, her words settling over me like the snow outside.

Maybe I didn’t have all the answers yet.

Maybe I never would.

But I could find my way, one step at a time.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice sincere.

She smiled, reaching out to pat my hand. “You’re stronger than you think, Maeve. And you’re not alone.”

We finished our tea, and I hopped up. “I need to get back to the store.”

“Understood.” She smiled as I made my way outside.

The snow continued to fall gently as I walked back to the tea shop, the weight in my chest a little lighter. I still didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time in a while, I felt like I was moving in the right direction.

The conversation lingered in my mind as I made my way back. Her words about carving out a path of my own had resonated deeply, but the truth was, I still felt like I was fumbling in the dark.

Frank would be waiting for me by the fireplace, probably curled up in his usual spot, blissfully unaware of the existential crises swirling in my head. The thought made me smile, and I quickened my pace, eager to bask in the tea shop’s warmth.

As I looked up, I caught a glimpse of someone familiar—a flash of auburn hair and a green coat. My heart leaped.

Skye?

Without thinking, I dashed toward the figure.

She was walking briskly down the sidewalk, her steps purposeful, but she hadn’t noticed me.

“Skye!” I called, my voice echoing in the quiet street.

The woman didn’t turn around.

Instead, she picked up her pace, slipping down a narrow alley between two buildings.

“Wait!” I shouted, adrenaline kicking in.

Something wasn’t right.

Skye wouldn’t ignore me, especially not after everything that had happened.

I pushed forward, my boots crunching in the snow as I followed her into the alley.

The space was tight. The walls loomed high and cast deep shadows.

The falling snow muffled the sound of my footsteps, and for a moment, I lost sight of her.

“Skye?” I called again. My voice hushed as uncertainty crept in.

Then I saw her—or at least, I thought I did.

She stood at the far end of the alley. Her back was to me, and her silhouette was blurred by the swirling snow.

I approached cautiously, my pulse racing.

“Skye, what’s going on? Why did you—”

The figure turned slowly, and my breath caught in my throat.

It wasn’t Skye.

Standing before me was Gideon.

His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and a slow, predatory smile spread across his face. He looked the same as he had in my dream—tall, dark, and undeniably handsome, with an unsettling edge that made my skin crawl.

And beckoned me at the same time...

I pushed the sickening thought away and glared at him.

“Ah, Maeve,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Every muscle in my body tensed, and a chill ran down my spine, colder than the winter air around me.

“What do you want?”

He tilted his head, his smile never wavering.

“Want? Such a crude question. Can’t a man simply enjoy the company of a beautiful woman?”

“Cut the crap,” I said, taking a step back. “You’ve been attacking my friends, my home. If you think I’m just going to stand here and let you—”

He raised a hand, and though he didn’t move toward me, the air grew heavier, pressing against my chest.

“Now, now,” he said, his tone mockingly gentle. “Let’s not ruin the moment with accusations.”

My grip tightened on my wand, hidden in my coat pocket. “What moment?”

He chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“The moment where we finally get to speak properly. You’ve been quite the enigma, Maeve. Stronger than I expected and more resourceful. I must admit, I’m impressed.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let his flattery sway me. “I don’t need your compliments.”

“Perhaps not,” he said, taking a deliberate step closer. “But they’re well-earned. You’ve faced challenges that would break most people, yet here you are, standing tall.”

“Because I have people who stand with me,” I shot back. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

His smile faltered, just for a second, before returning with a sharper edge.

“Ah, yes. Your little band of misfits. They’re quite the loyal bunch, aren’t they? But loyalty can be such a fragile thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, my heart pounding.

Gideon sighed as if disappointed by my lack of understanding.

“It means that alliances shift, Maeve. People change. Trust is a luxury that can vanish in an instant.”

“I trust my friends,” I said firmly. “And they trust me.”

He nodded slowly as if considering my words.

“For now. But trust can be a double-edged sword. One betrayal, one moment of doubt, and everything you’ve built can come crashing down.”

I refused to let his words sink in, refused to let him plant seeds of doubt.

“You’re wasting your time. Whatever game you’re playing, it won’t work.”

Gideon’s smile widened, a glint of something darker flashing in his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

He took another step forward, and instinctively, I raised my wand.

The air between us crackled with tension, but he made no move to attack. Instead, he studied me with a curious, almost admiring expression.

“You’re a fascinating woman, Maeve,” he said softly. “So much potential, so much fire. It’s a shame you’ve tied yourself to a sinking ship.”

“Stonewick isn’t sinking,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’re stronger than you think.”

“Are you?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Or are you simply delaying the inevitable?”

For a moment, the alley seemed to close in around us, the walls pressing tighter, the shadows growing darker. But I refused to let him see my fear.

“We’ll see,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Now get out of my way.”

“Tell me, Maeve. Have they ever told you what happened to your father?”

“Leave me be.”

Gideon held my gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate bow, he stepped aside. “As you wish.”

I didn’t lower my wand as I backed away, but he vanished.

My heart raced. He knew what I craved more than most things was answers.

My hands trembled as the snow continued to fall, soft and silent.

When I emerged from the alley and back onto the main street, I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting him to reappear.

By the time I got back to the tea shop, Frank was waiting for me. His wagging tail sped up as I stepped inside, but Gideon’s words echoed in my mind, each one a carefully planted thorn.

He wanted me to doubt, to question.

But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

I couldn’t.

However, I knew the one place that held the answers was the one place that might not accept me after my decision, but I knew I had to try.