Page 9 of Screwed by the Minotaur in Hallow’s Cove (Hallow’s Cove #6)

The woman laughed, the laugh of someone who has definitely lied about allergies before. “Oh, that’s nothing. Wait until the sap spirits bloom. Last year, I cried for a week.” She plopped down at the far end of the bench, hands tucked between her knees. “I’m Maisie.”

The strange woman pulled a packet of tissues from her sweater pocket and handed it to me wordlessly. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose in a very unladylike fashion and took a big breath. The crying spell was done. I was still upset, but I was no longer on the verge of tears.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the woman asked.

I puffed out a breath of air, not sure what I wanted. But I knew I wasn’t ready to go grocery shopping or worse, head back to my new place and risk running into Rick again. Even his name made him sound like an ass. I should have known.

I tried to shrug it off. “Just guy trouble. Or monster trouble, I guess.” The words sounded ridiculous as soon as I said them, but Maisie just nodded.

“Don’t worry, it’s a town specialty.” She bumped my shoulder lightly with hers. “We’ve all had our tour of Hallow’s Cove heartbreak.”

I tried to laugh, but it caught in my throat. I pressed the tissue to my nose, wondering how much of my makeup was left after the crying jag.

Maisie’s mouth twitched in a smile she tried to hide. “So whose ass do I need to kick?”

I weighed the odds of opening up to a complete stranger versus pretending I was just fine and risking spontaneous combustion. In the end, my brain was too fried and my heart too stomped-on to keep playing it cool.

“It was a minotaur,” I muttered, staring at my shoes.

“Seven feet tall, devastatingly hot, and emotionally stunted. We had a night. It was… I thought it was something. But then he just—” I snapped my fingers.

“Poof. Gone before breakfast. Acted like nothing happened. Now I get to spend all week pretending I’m only here to gut a derelict storefront, not because he made me feel something for the first time in forever. ”

Maisie let out a low whistle. “Ooof. Yeah, that tracks. There’s always at least one minotaur who thinks he’s being noble by ghosting a girl.

Like they’re sparing us instead of just making it worse.

” She grinned, but the kindness behind it took the sting out.

“You’d think the horns would mean they know how to handle delicate things, but no.

Always charging ahead, then surprised when things get messy. ”

I snorted, half laugh, half sob. “He said it was just one night. But it didn’t feel like that.” My voice went small. “It felt like more.”

Maisie nodded, eyes soft and oddly ancient.

“It always does, with the good ones. Doesn’t mean you’re crazy, just means you’re alive.

” She stared out over the creek, legs swinging under the bench, like she’d done this before.

“You know, you can always throw a rock through his window. No one would blame you.”

I smiled, a real one, the first since the morning. “Maybe if I get bored this week.” I brushed my hair out of my face. “I was actually on my way to find the local grocery store, before I decided to ugly cry in the park.”

Maisie hopped off the bench and offered me her hand like she’s just had an epiphany.

“Come on. I’ll show you. If you’re going to stick it out in Hallow’s, you need food, and probably a decent bottle of wine.

Also, the produce section is a prime spot for low-stakes people-watching. I’ll teach you the ropes.”

I hesitated, some tiny, stubborn part of me wanting to wallow a little longer. But the larger part—the part that remembered what it felt like to be cared for, even in small, unexpected ways—took her hand.

The walk to the market was short; Maisie kept up a commentary on the houses we passed: that one’s haunted, that one has a secret basement, the blue one with the porch swing is owned by a banshee who bakes cookies for every single funeral in town.

I let her talk fill the empty places in my head, and by the time we passed the bakery and ducked into the small, bright market, I was almost convinced I could do this whole “new life” thing after all.

Maisie steered me straight to the produce aisle, somehow knowing exactly where the best fruit was hidden. She inspected a head of lettuce with the gravity of a surgeon, then turned to me with a sharp look.

“You want to know the secret to surviving here?” she said, voice low. “Don’t let anyone convince you that what you’re feeling is too much. This town is built on people who felt too much and did something about it.”

She piled mushrooms and snow peas into a paper bag, her deft hands moving with rhythmic certainty.

“So what brought you here?” I asked, curiosity finally outweighing my self-pity. “You sound like you’re a lifer.”

Maisie paused, expression open, almost inviting me to see past the surface.

“I moved here for a man. Or, technically, a vampire.” She grinned, flashing slightly sharper canines than I’d noticed before.

“Barnaby. He started the town over two hundred years ago. I met him when I came to town for a quiet break from my software job. We fell in love and eventually I convinced him to turn me.”

I blinked at her, caught between awe and the slow, pleasant horror of realizing I might be talking to an actual vampire in the produce aisle. “Wait. Are you—?”

She rolled her eyes, good-natured. “Oh, don’t get all weird.

Most of what you think you know isn’t true.

I don’t eat people. Or food for that matter, but Barnaby keeps a supply of cow’s blood in the freezer.

At first it was… honestly? Nasty. Like drinking a cold, rusty smoothie.

But you get used to it. Survival mechanism, I guess. ”

She shrugged and tossed a bag of limes into my basket as if that explained everything. “There’s always an adjustment period for new beginnings, right? You’ll find your thing.”

I eyed her, trying to see traces of the monster beneath the cardigan and jeans, but all I saw was a woman who might have also sat on a park bench and cried her heart out once, then made peace with it.

“Is it weird?” I asked. “I mean, do you ever… wish you could go back?”

Maisie considered. “Sometimes. Not often. There’s stuff I miss, sure.

The taste of real ice cream. A hot cappuccino.

But mostly I like what I’ve got now.” She bit her lip and leaned in as if sharing a truly illicit secret.

“You know what the best part is about dying and coming back different?” She didn’t wait for my answer.

“You do everything you always put off. No more waiting for the ‘right time’—the right time is every goddamn moment.”

Her words hardened in my chest like a diamond—tiny, perfect, irreducible. The ache of the morning was still there, but it was edged now with possibility, something sharp and sweet.

Maisie marched us through the aisles, loading my basket with the skill of a seasoned operator. Sourdough, olives, dark chocolate.

“Trust me,” she said, “chocolate is the only cure for heartbreak. Well, the only one that doesn’t leave a permanent record.”

I wanted to point out that heartbreak wasn’t supposed to be fixed with food, but what did I know? My coping mechanisms so far had included avoidance, overwork, and the occasional ugly cry in public. Wine and carbs seemed like an upgrade.

“What about you?” Maisie asked as we waited in the checkout line, loading groceries onto the belt with brisk precision. “What are you gonna do now that your world’s imploded?”

I thought about it. Really thought. The true answer was I had no idea, but sitting there with a stranger in the after-flare of a meltdown, I realized maybe that was sort of the point.

“I guess I’m going to open the shop,” I said. “Make it beautiful, even if no one comes. Maybe forgive myself for needing a do-over. Learn all the monster gossip. Try not to fall for another emotionally illiterate man-beast.”

Maisie beamed like I’d just passed a pop quiz. “That’s the spirit, kid.” She slid her card to the cashier, waving off my attempt to chip in. “You can pay me back later. I’m running a tab for all emotionally traumatized newcomers.”

We left the market, arms full of heavy bags and something lighter, too—a sense that maybe the worst was behind me.

Maisie walked me back to my apartment the long way, down streets I hadn’t yet mapped.

For a while, we didn’t talk, just let the newness of dusk and the hush of the neighborhood fill the space between us.

A row of handmade wind chimes caught the breeze, a careful hedgerow lined a well-lit street, and a single porchlight burned gold in the growing dark like a pole star.

I got the door open, and we navigated through the construction site that was the shop and headed upstairs. At that point, I really needed to let Maisie go. She’d helped me enough for one day.

“Okay, shoo.” I waved my arms toward her after we deposited the last of the bags.

“What? No way. I have to help you put all the groceries away.” She blew her hair out of her face, clearly sweating.

“No, really. You’ve done enough. And…” I hesitated. “Dare I say I’ve made my first real friend in Hallow’s Cove?”

“Of course.” Maisie pulled me into a tight hug, then let me go. “You’re sure you don’t want more help? Or just more company?”

“I’m sure. Go be with your vampire.”

Maisie pulled me into another hug before heading out.

Once she was gone, I sat down in the only chair I had so far—a single desk chair—and let myself relax for a bit.

I was elated to have met Maisie but exhausted from the emotional trainwreck of a day.

I let myself stare off into space for a bit before getting up to put away the groceries.

I organized everything the best that I could with minimal furniture—the hand-me-down fridge from the former owner would work until mine arrived.

I looked at my watch. Somehow it was already 8:30 p.m. I needed to get back to the inn.

I wasn’t sleeping here yet because the rest of my things weren’t due to arrive until Wednesday.

I had learned most of the town in the two days I had been here, but I didn’t really want to walk back to the inn alone at night.

I quickly shoved the rest of the groceries in the fridge, before grabbing some candy to take back to my room with me and headed out.

I was lucky that Hallow’s Cove only had a few main streets and I wasn’t far from the inn. I waved at one of the many rabbit shifter children working the desk and took the stairs up to my room. Then I threw myself on the comfortable bed, utterly exhausted.