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Chapter Sixty-Five

W hit shuffled in through the front door. He was exhausted. All he wanted was a shower and his bed. His mind couldn’t think anymore. He was simply coasting on autopilot; the ache in his chest had dulled but wasn’t going anywhere.

“Whit, could you come in here, please?” Grandfather called from two rooms over.

Whit moved toward the library, opening the door to find Grandfather sitting at his desk—the reading lamp casting deep shadows on his face.

“What is it?” Whit asked, his voice tired and thin.

Grandfather frowned seriously. “I want to dissolve the pact.”

Whit blinked in confusion.

“I will give you the house if you annul your marriage to the summer witch and handpart.”

Whit froze, forgetting even how to breathe.

“And if you don’t,” Grandfather continued. “I won’t sign the papers.”

“What?” Whit shouted. “So if I don’t divorce Clover, you won’t keep your end of the pact? You’d sacrifice your magic just to keep the house from me?”

Grandfather straightened his spine. “To keep my family’s ancestral home from a summer witch? Absolutely. Who knows how much longer I’ll live anyway? What do I need magic for? Ordinaries get along without it just fine. And besides, it wouldn’t be a divorce. It would be an annulment. You haven’t even been married for a month.”

Fury raged in Whit’s belly like flames on kindling. “I refuse.”

Grandfather tilted his head while raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t want to annul our marriage. I made a promise to care for her and protect her. I took that seriously.”

Grandfather snorted. “Did you now? Is that why she’s coming here in the middle of the day to collect her clothes while you’re at work? Do you care for her and protect her all the way from the north side of town?” Grandfather shook his head. “Don’t be foolish, Whittaker. This will never work out. You could never hope to understand her, and she will never understand you.”

“That’s not true,” Whit refuted.

“Do you really think a summer witch—one who’s used to frivolous days of laughter and dance—could ever love someone who lives in the dark where she would never dare tread?”

Whit clenched his fists to stifle the tremors in his limbs. “She does love me,” he growled.

Grandfather sneered at him. “Then she’s more of a fool than any other summer witch.”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about, old man,” Whit said darkly.

Grandfather shrugged, completely unperturbed by Whit’s menace. “You don’t seem to give that title much weight. After all, you pretty much sold it for a pile of wood and stone.”

“I want to dissolve this pact right now,” Whit snapped, holding out his hand. “ I release you from your vow .” His magic thrummed through the air, cold and strong like the Cailleach’s fury.

Grandfather frowned but repeated his words, clasping Whit’s hand. Silence reigned as the bound magic dissipated.

“You’ll get an annulment, then?” Grandfather asked softly.

Whit jerked his head from side to side. “No. I’m moving out. You can keep your house. Let it burn to ashes for all I care. I’m going to get my wife.”

Grandfather’s face was stern and unmoved, but there was a twinkle like his brother Andri’s mischief there.

Whatever. Whit didn’t care anymore. All he knew was that he had to see Clover.

His chest lightened with a sense of purpose as he strode from the room—the burning pain turning to fuel for his determination.

The night was cold, but the wind blew at his back when he stepped outside, rushing toward his truck. The drive to the south side of town felt like an eternity; he tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Every red light was a personal insult.

But finally, he pulled up to Clover’s parents’ house.

His heart pounded so loud he couldn’t even hear his own footsteps, he couldn’t hear the sound of his knuckles on the front door.

The door was opened a few moments later by Llewellyn. He smirked at Whit, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “She’s in her room.”

Whit went straight for the stairs, not bothering to greet anyone, not even sure if there was anyone else in the house.

It wasn’t until he was standing at the door to the attic that he hesitated. He took a deep breath. The only thought that could make him open that door was knowing Clover was on the other side. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He just knew he had to see her.

He twisted the knob and started up the stairs without knocking so she wouldn’t have the chance to turn him away.

Though the space was void of Clover’s things—every shelf and surface empty—it still felt full. The warmth of her presence, the slightest hint of her magic, was unmistakable.

She didn’t notice him at first, and that was just as well. For a blissful moment, he took in the sight of her sitting on the window seat, her eyes unfocused as she stared out at the backyard. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, and she wore a faded Kiss T-shirt that was much too big for her and had a small hole in the shoulder seam.

As if she sensed him there, though he didn’t make a sound, she turned her sad eyes toward him. They widened, and she jumped to her feet. But her surprise quickly turned icy.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone cool and distant.

He felt like he could hear his heart squish under the boot of her tone.

“Where else would I be when you’re here?” he whispered. Warmth spread through him as the truth of his words sang in his veins.

She frowned, and as she opened her mouth, he was afraid to hear that crushing tone from her again.

“I love you,” he declared before she could speak.