Page 85 of Summer L.A.W.

Brianna burst out laughing. “That’s why they’ve broken our ‘law’ twice since I’ve been with you.”

“That last one was on me.” Joell sighed. “But honestly, some of those hunky kidnapped models were on our book covers! How could we not help them?”

Rayna nodded. “Usually, we relax, we hydrate, we write smut, and we don’t answer the phone unless the world is ending.”

Brianna sipped her coffee. “And if the world were ending, he’d send a second text in all caps.”

The mansion hummed in agreement.

Wally climbed onto Magda’s lap, planted a wheat stalk there, and flopped dramatically. She took that to mean, ‘Do not get up. Do not worry. Do not ruin the vibe.’

Magda stroked his fur. “Okay. One week of peace. Then we’ll go home and see what disaster he’s hiding behind polite punctuation.”

Outside, the mountain breeze whispered through the pines. Inside, the witches settled into their various creative corners, pages turning, keys clacking, imagination stirring.

Magda opened her notebook again. This time, she wrote a single sentence. He smelled like rosemary and reason.

And she didn’t cross it out.

Almost a week later, the mansion thudded back onto Long Island soil with the self-satisfied grunt of a giant settling into its favorite chair. The witches drifted into the foyer like dreamy, loose-limbed, glowing women returning from a weeklong spa sabbatical.

Crystal stretched. “Home sweet barely-regulated magical infrastructure.”

Rayna cracked her neck. “And no got killed, kidnapped, or possessed this quarter. I’m counting that as a win.”

Wally hopped through the doorway in a slow wobble, still half-asleep. Magda scooped him up, smoothing his fur. “You can nap as soon as we check the greenhouse, little man.”

The front door opened, and Chad entered. He cleared his throat. “Library. Now.” He only used the academic doom-voice when the news was dire. The witches exchanged looks, then filed into the library.

Chad stood at the head of the long table. He looked exhausted, rumpled, and vaguely traumatized. “Well,” he said, “we have a situation.”

Rayna dropped into her chair immediately. “Thank the Goddess. I was worried we wouldn’t.”

Joell crossed her arms. “Report.”

Chad inhaled deeply. “It’s Sebastian. He’s… not doing well.”

Magda’s eyes widened. “Not doing well, how?”

“He’s been crying.” Chad winced. “A lot. Since you left for Tennessee. He told the University he had the flu and called in sick for the entire week.”

Crystal frowned. “Is he actually sick?”

“No.” Chad rubbed his forehead. “He’s emotionally compromised to an alarming degree. Yesterday, he cried at a commercial for dish soap.”

Brianna perked up. “Which one? The one with the ducklings?”

“Yes,” Chad said hollowly. “But still…”

Magda’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“Oh, I know,” Chad said. “But he’s been brewing love-adjacent concoctions with you for a while. Tiny amplifiers, attraction microdoses, Variation #5…” He waved a hand. “The man’s emotional field is basically a romantic tuning fork.”

Sahara snorted. “Clocked over the head by affection.”

“Exactly,” Chad said. “He tried to grade papers and burst into tears over a metaphor about moss.”

“Moss is very resilient,” Magda whispered.