Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“I really was trying to be good, wasn’t I?” Carl preened.
Leo wagged a finger.
Fine, fine. Carl sank his head to his chest. “I guess I’ll have to come clean with everyone.”
Leo nodded. “You should do it while everyone’s gathered together. Save having to admit your faults over and over.”
Dread made Carl feel like he was made of stone and sinking into the earth. He didn’t want to get up, but Leo’s imploring look . . .
“I don’t want to face the music,” Carl admitted, heaving himself to his feet.
“You said we need to have courage to live our dreams.”
“This isn’t exactly my dream.”
“You get the point.”
Carl grumbled. “Fine. As long as you remember those words when it’s your time to get up on stage.”
Leo grimaced and tapped the end of his stick against his chin. “Deal.”
“Excellent, now if you’d pull-slash-drag me back to the hall . . .”
Leo laughed, threw away his stick, and tugged Carl all the way there. Sage—in her wraparound dress—was making her way towards the volunteers seated around tables covered with cupcakes. Judging by her relieved smile, she’d come before the meeting had officially started.
Carl shuffled inside—aided by Leo at his back—as Grayson finished answering some trivia question and jogged down the stairs from the stage. His gaze caught Carl’s and swept across the hall to Sage, who was being praised by the teachers for her amazing cupcakes. “Uniform colours, that’s a great idea. This’ll add school spirit to the event.”
The witches looked on with flattened lips, and one of them whispered loudly, “It’s not like she gets much attention, she should store this in her memory.”
Leo’s hands stilled against his back.
Another witch murmured, “I can’t believe her luck lately. What with Jason Lyall always hanging out with her.”
“I’m sure it won’t last.”
Carl’s chest sank as he took another step towards the stage—
Leo lunged and hugged him around the arm, dragging him backwards; Grayson shared a look with Leo and grabbed Carl’s other arm, hauling him out of the main hall. The doors were shut behind them, and Leo and Grayson sagged, letting out a long breath towards Carl’s sleeves.
Carl, his back pressed against the wall, eyed them both. “Wasn’t I supposed to come clean?”
“Those mums are always embarrassing mine.”
Grayson nodded grimly. “We’ll think of a better way.”
“Thank God,” Carl said on a sigh. “Something’s digging into my back.”
Leo and Grayson let him go; he came off the wall and glanced at the framed photos he’d been resting against. They were pictures of teachers throughout the years, and school board volunteers. There were too many of those witches, and . . . that face looked familiar. From five years ago . . . Was that—
Before he could linger on the photo, a group of holiday program kids swarmed through the entrance and made for the kitchens, and he, Leo, and Grayson smuggled themselves smartly out of the stampede.
Outside, Grayson got a call, which he took begrudgingly and waved for Carl and Leo to head off to whatever they had planned next.
Leo was headed back to the bakery, and Carl needed to do the same. He fidgeted along the way, and once he was inside the quiet shop, met Poppy at the counter. The smile bestowed on Carl had him biting his lip. He could see it now Grayson wasn’t around—those bright eyes following his every step, the hint of a leer in the quirk of his brow . . . all meant for him. No hidden history of a past fling that hadn’t worked out and had never been forgotten. These looks were all for Carl. Well, for Jason. Fake Jason.
Still, it was empowering, and he could see why Grayson loved that sort of attention even if he never returned the feelings. Carl couldn’t help but feel chuffed.
However, he wouldn’t smile too much, lest Poppy get the wrong idea.
He cleared his throat and leaned against the counter. The lean angled too much towards intimate and he pushed himself back a step, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Can we talk a minute?”
Poppy’s smile grew hopeful. He tossed his apron to Leo and told him to man the counter. Four steps later, Poppy grabbed Carl’s wrist and was hauling him outside—
Carl’s foot caught on the darn threshold and he tripped, sending poor Poppy shooting down the stairs. Flailing, Carl readied himself to hit the footpath and possibly a passerby, but he was caught swiftly in Poppy’s arms. And even twirled around with the momentum, Poppy all joyous laughter. “Falling right into my arms.”
Carl caught a breath and glanced over Poppy’s shoulder—
Two dozen feet away stood Grayson, frozen to the footpath, gaze rooted on them. There was something in his stance, shoulders slightly slumped, and his watchful gaze seemed to hold less depth than usual. Could that be the twitch of his jaw, or a trick of the light? Why did the usual charismatic aura around Grayson feel dulled? Greyed.