Page 19 of Spellbound & Speechless (Witches of Starbrook #2)

Mac

“Where are you going?”

Laurel’s upbeat voice gives me pause. She’s always louder than the rest of the witches, and the last thing I need is someone else overhearing our conversation. It’s obvious that I’m leaving. Lucky me—I won’t have to lie about where I’m going.

“Tavern,” I blurt out, trying to escape before she can continue questioning me.

It’s no use. She follows right behind me.

“You’re leaving now?” She lifts a brow. “Your shift doesn’t start until seven.”

“I know my schedule, thanks.” I hesitate. “That’s not why I’m going in.”

“Oh!” She gasps and follows me with quick steps. Despite her shorter legs, she seems to have no trouble keeping up. “You’re meeting with the wolves, aren’t you?”

Of course, she knows about the damn meeting. I grind my teeth together. “Maybe…”

“Can I come?” she asks. “I’ve always wanted to date a werewolf. ”

I give her a withering look. “No. You don’t. We’re terrible. We shed a lot, you know.”

“Hm…” She tilts her head to the side. “You know what? I’m open-minded. I think I can look past that.”

There’s no stopping Laurel from coming, not when her family owns the bar they’re gathering at. Shortly after meeting the youngest Hawthorne, I realized that it’s hard to stop her from doing… well, much of anything.

She has a mind of her own, that’s for sure.

“I can’t play matchmaker,” I say as we walk down the cobbled streets. “I don’t know any of the other wolves.”

“That’s fine. I probably know more of them. I can play matchmaker for you .”

As if Antoni needs another reason to flirt with me. I glower. “I’m not looking.”

“Not romantically, silly! Just call me the pack matchmaker! The patchmaker? Does that have a ring to it?”

“No.”

“You are trying to join the Crivello pack, right?”

“Wrong.”

I don’t trust a witch to know what being a lone wolf means. I’ve lived my life this way. Some lone wolves get kicked from packs, forced to go off alone. That’s not my case. I was made to live like this, and if I have it my way, I’ll die like this.

No matter what my mother’s history dictates. She was the leader of our pack until my father died, and some would expect the same from me. I don’t have it in me.

Laurel fills the rest of our walk with chatter, but I stay quiet, planning my talking points with the other wolves. I have nothing to leverage for their help—no money, and I’m definitely not joining their pack.

There’s a chance I can get them to agree to an alliance without me joining them. Small-town wolves are nicer than the ones in the city. They’ll have reasons to want to keep the Hawthornes alive, which is why I’m here. That’s what I care about.

Well, I care about one Hawthorne in particular, but I’ll do what I can for the rest.

Dozens of wolves turn to stare when we enter the private room in the back of the tavern.

Laurel wiggles her fingers and bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly more excited than I am.

The room smells like wolves—like kin. Others are around, too. There are a few humans, witches, and even a single vampire. The mates, family, and friends of the pack, I assume.

Laurel isn’t so out of place, even though I don’t understand why she’s tagging along.

“Go greet them.” Laurel nudges me with her bony elbow.

“Yeah, yeah.” I glare at her. “I’m working on it.”

I don’t have to work hard. Antoni approaches me, slings an arm around my shoulder, and leads me to the bar. “You came! I didn’t know if you would.”

“Neither did I.”

Laurel floats off in another direction. Guess she was serious about trying to hit it off with one of the werewolves.

“Let me get you a beer.” He holds up a hand, grinning. “Platonically. I swear.”

“Sure.” I lift a shoulder. “Won’t say no to a drink. Whatever you’re drinking is fine with me.”

The bartender—a human I vaguely recognize from my shifts—slides us two pints. I lift mine, and when Antoni chugs, I follow suit.

This is what I always imagined pack meetings would look like. Laughter, drinks, food, and friendship. I’ve had friends before, of course, but never a group of wolves. My heart tugs with a longing, similar to the one I feel for Aspen.

It’s not the first time I’ve had to push this longing away. The choices I’m making for my life don’t come naturally to me or anyone like me. Being alone is all I’ve ever known, but staying that way means fighting a part of me that will always exist. The wolf in me.

“How long are you in town for, anyway?” Antoni asks. “I know you’re working here.”

“Sounds like you’ve seen me around?” I lift a brow.

He pinches his fingers together. “Little bit.”

Which means he still has a soft spot for me. That could work in my favor.

I drag a finger along the polished wooden bar. “I don’t know how long I’m staying, but it’s a good workplace. You ever consider picking up a shift or two here?”

“Me? No way. I’m a busy man.”

Time to get down to business. I’m not above using his crush to get what I want—to protect Aspen.

I smirk. “Are you sure? We need more security. Big, strapping wolves like you are perfect for the gig.”

“These muscles are for vanity.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Right where I want him. “Don’t try to flatter me.”

“I’m serious. I know you’ve heard about the attacks.”

“Of course, I have. It’s a shame.”

I lean in. “Then you know the bar needs more protection. I’ve been working security shifts at night, but one man can only do so much.”

“That’s when being in a pack becomes useful, huh?” His smile grows.

Dammit. I just made his point for him, didn’t I ?

I grimace. “Look, I just thought I would float the idea around. I’m still not looking for a pack.”

“No? You sure?”

I shake my head. “Not right now. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.”

My mating bond with Aspen is awakening. It’s strong enough that I can still feel her. I need to run. As soon as I get rid of the corrupt witch, I’ll be out of here.

Antoni’s smile never wavers. “Tell you what. You stay here, drink, hang out with the rest of the pack, and I’ll consider bringing it up at the next meeting. Sound good?”

No. That does not sound good. “When’s the next meeting?”

“Next week.”

That’s too far from now. Anything could happen between now and next week, and it will be my fucking fault. It’s the only shot I have at getting help and keeping the sisters safe. Maybe the wolves will even keep helping them out after I leave.

I jut my head toward the bartender. “What are you waiting for, then? Get us another round.”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

I don’t pry Laurel away from the party until the wolves finally clear out. I’m too tipsy, drunk enough that I’ll need to head back to the Hawthorne house and rest before I can guard the bar for the evening.

I was a fool for thinking I could party with other werewolves. I’m used to being the one in the room with the strongest constitution, who can down the most beer, but they’re all better than I am.

“I think you should join them.” Laurel steps inside the Hawthorne home, looking at me over her shoulder. “They were nice.”

“Nice doesn’t mean they’re my pack. I can be friends with them without joining.”

Antoni and I got along well enough, and he introduced me to a few of his friends. Even if I didn’t get what I wanted, I made a few tentative allies. If only they would help me out at the tavern.

I get why they won’t. I have nothing to bring to the table, and if I’m honest, I’m coming in with a whole lot of trouble.

If I were in the pack, it would be different.

Pack mates are supposed to be sworn to help each other.

That’s why it isn’t worth it to join. That means having to help them , and that can lead to…

Well, death. That’s what it led to for my father. Just because people say they have your back doesn’t mean they do. He was part of a pack, one he led with my mother, but he still died alone. Nothing could stop that witch from stealing his magic and shoving a dagger deep into his chest.

“Fine,” Laurel says. “I’m going to nap. Just think about it…”

She’s right. I can’t avoid their offer, even if I want to—even if I should.

“I will.” I tiptoe into Aspen’s bedroom.

The back of her blonde head reminds me why I can’t avoid the pack. She’s the reason I agreed to meet with them. I need to protect her, and as the need grows, so does the worry that I won’t be able to do it alone.

My heart catches in my throat .

She barely looks up when I enter, focused on her sketchbook. Shit. She’s cute like that, with her brows furrowed, and her attention locked on.

“You drawing?” I plop onto my little cot.

“So it seems.” She turns to look at me. “And you’re drunk.”

“Just a little.”

“Why? Isn’t it early for that?”

I grunt. “You ever party with wolves?”

She lifts a brow. “Can’t say I have, at least as far as I know. Are you extending an invitation?”

Drinking with Aspen? That’s either the best or worst idea, and I can’t decide which.

I groan. “Not tonight. I’m partied out.”

“Aw. That’s too bad.”

I still have to work tonight. Nothing will keep me from my shift. Being hungover is better than not being there at all.

The sisters sometimes drink while working, but they’re not the security guards. They’re allowed to. Their job is to connect, make sales, and make the customers happy. Sipping on a cocktail won’t stop them from doing that.

How am I supposed to keep them safe like this ?

I run my fingers through my hair. “What are you drawing, anyway?”

She lifts her sketchbook, showing me what appears to be vague outlines of dresses. “Just designs. Little ideas. It’s the first time I’ve had ideas in a while.”

Aspen and I spent the night close—too close—but we’re back to normal now. What a relief.

She doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, and I can’t. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I won’t let myself get the words out, even though I want to .

What is there to talk about, anyway? It’s nothing. She needed comfort, and I did my best to offer it.

“I know how that goes,” I say. “The inspiration thing.

“Do you?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t always find the time to get outside. You know. Photography and all.”

She looks out the window. “Well, there are plenty of views right out there. You came at a good time. The fall foliage in Maine is breathtaking.”

“Huh. I guess it is.” But the urge to pick up my camera is dead and gone, and it only returns at the most sporadic times.

I don’t say it aloud, but when Aspen looks at me, it’s like someone understands me. I don’t need to say the words at all.

“Are you working tonight?” She turns away, focusing on her sketch.

“Yup. In… three hours.” I let my arm flop over my eyes. “Wake me up then, okay?”

“No.” She laughs. “Absolutely not?”

“Why not?”

“Waking a drunken Mac sounds like waking up a sleeping bear. I’d like to avoid the scratches.”

I chuckle. “C’mon. I need your help.”

“That’s too bad.” Her voice holds a secret smile, and I want to see it on her face, but my arm is too heavy to lift.

“Just rest,” she says. “If you’re lucky, I’ll make sure you have a sandwich when you wake up. I’ve been perfecting my grilled cheese, and Maple made tomato soup.”

“How kind.”

“I know. I don’t get enough credit for how kind I am.”

“You should… get more credit… ”

“I agree.” After a moment, she speaks again. “You should get more, too, Mac. You know that, right?”

I say nothing, already dozing off.

“Mac?” Her following words are so faint I hardly register them. “Sleep well.”