Page 97 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

“It’s a miracle.” Ceri made a yeesh face. I wasn’t always great at picking up on emotions, but I had no problem interpreting that one.

Niamh wrapped a strand of red hair around her finger. “But it’s not just that. You bring out the best in each other.”

“Like you and Wolfe,” Harriet said to Niamh.

“Like you and Maya.” The redhead sent me a pointed stare. “He’s brought you out of your shell, gotten you to actually interact with people after spending two years living like a hermit. He got you to join our book club, a romance book club.”

“I heard you’ve been going on house calls with him.” Ceri picked up the Medicinal Properties of Plants book that was sitting on my nightstand. “And growing an interest in becoming a healer.”

I snatched the book from her, tucking it in at my side.

Ceri’s face softened. “The point is that he’s brought out a side of you that no one has seen. Perhaps that you haven’t even seen in yourself.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Maybe, but I haven’t reciprocated.”

Niamh gave me a “come on” look.

I threw up my arms. “Yes, I talk plants with him. That’s not me bringing out the best in him.”

I wasn’t sure I’d ever brought out the best in anyone. If anything, all I’d ever seemed to do was make people show the worst of themselves.

“No, it’s not just the plants,” Niamh said. “You . . . woke him up. Before you, it was like Nevan was sleeping through life. He holed himself up in that lab, doing nothing but work. He wasn’t motivated. It was almost like he’d . . .” Niamh searched for the right word.

“Given up?” Ceri suggested, and Niamh nodded.

“Exactly.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get him to learn to swim?” Harriet asked. “Wolfe is terrified his brother is going to drown, so he thought if I approached Nevan, he might be open to it. Spoiler alert: he wasn’t.” She waved a hand to the bog spreading out in the distance. “Then lo and behold, you two start courting, and all of a sudden he’s taking daily swims.”

I thought about the first time I’d gotten him in the water, how he’d pressed me up against that wall and kissed me. How I’d never wanted it to end.

“All of that might be true, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not right for Nevan. I’m too different.”

Ceri let out a laugh, then covered her mouth. “Sorry. I just—I think that’s a funny thing to say in a place like Fairwitch Isle.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly tired despite sleeping well into the afternoon. All I wanted was to go back to sleep and shut off all thoughts about Nevan.

Niamh blinked. “Margaret is a literal painting.” She ticked off her fingers. “Then there’s the gargoyles.”

“The shifting castle,” Harriet said.

“Morton,” Ceri added, shuddering. “The way he eats books is both horrifying and fascinating.”

Niamh’s features softened. “This is a town of misfits. We live in a world where there are all kinds of magical creatures and objects and plants. There’s a place for everyone here.”

I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe it so badly. I looked down at my hands, still curled into fists.

“We know you’re not like everyone else,” Niamh said.

My head shot up, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

Ceri swallowed. “But that’s why we need you. You know, Nevan gave me some of those spindles of yours. They’re amazing for sewing, and I discovered some plants behind the dress shop that I can harvest as thread. Father and I have been worrying about our low supplies, but your bog can give us everything we need.”

My mind whirled as I listened.

“You saved Fiona,” Harriet said quietly, voice wobbling.

“Wh-what?” I asked. Surely I couldn’t have heard her right.