We didn’t wind up leaving until the next day.

Olivia had a lot of catching up to do with Kirby and Autumn, and by the time that was over, it was already dinner. We could’ve left after that, but Olivia wanted me to have more than two hours of sleep if I was driving home, and I was tired enough, I could see the wisdom in her suggestion.

Nylah had to go into work early the next morning, but Rall and Ellis were there. Mrs. Oliversen had called into work to inform them she would be late. After a leisurely breakfast, we said goodbye to Olivia’s parents and started the drive home.

It wasn’t long before we had to stop for gas, and since I only had cash, I had to go inside to pay for it.

That done, I returned to the car, plopped myself into the driver’s seat, and tossed my purchase over to Olivia. When it hit her, she looked away from the window and down at the cord in her lap.

“What’s this?” she asked.

I shut the door, turned on the car, and put it in reverse. “That, my little redheaded copilot, is an aux cord, otherwise known as an audio cord, which can be used to attach this phone”—I tossed my phone to her—“to the car speakers.”

“I know what an audio cord is.” She sounded irritated. I shouldn’t have felt pleased about that, but I did. “I thought the money Mr. Noctis gave you was for gas and snacks.”

“And I don’t like that accusatory tone in your voice, Miss Oliversen.” I pulled out of the gas station and turned toward the freeway. “I’ll have you know, I made the ultimate sacrifice to go without snacks in order to pay for that.”

Olivia ripped off the thin cardboard that corralled the cord. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact you’re stuffed to bursting with waffles.”

I grinned. “Your father is a decent cook.”

“Not really. Waffles are the only things he knows how to make.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re a lucky girl, Olivia.”

There was a brief pause, then she muttered, “Maybe you’re right.”

She finished plugging in my phone. I gave her the code to open it, and she started scrolling through my music.

“Your father invited me back, you know,” I said.

It was true, but I brought it up mostly to tease her.

I went on, “He said that the next time I came over, he’d show me all your baby pictures, and if I dragged you along, he’d make me copies of the most embarrassing ones.”

When I glanced over, she was glaring at me. Too bad I had to keep my eyes on the road. It was a really good glare, and I felt like I didn’t have enough time to appreciate the effort she was putting into it.

“When was this?” she asked.

“While you were talking to your mother.”

Before we left, Ellis and Olivia had secluded themselves off to the side of the front driveway so they could talk in private. Their conversation had gone on for so long, Rall and I had enough time to bring down the bags, pack them in the trunk, and lean back against the car to enjoy our own conversation. We talked about baby pictures, and marveled at how similar Ellis and Olivia looked—especially when they had the same solemn expression and both stood with their arms crossed.

“What did she want to talk to you about anyway?” I asked.

Olivia started the music and turned down the volume so we could still talk. “She was acknowledging the coven’s debt to me.”

I did a double-take with maybe one or two more glances than was safe while driving. “What? For real? Like, officially?”

“She admitted that, if it wasn’t for us, Sams and Misserly would’ve gotten away with the grimoire, despite all her extra security measures and the fact Master Uhler had warned her. She thanked us on behalf of the coven for saving such a valuable heirloom, and she thanked us personally for saving her the embarrassment.”

“Well, dang. That sounds…respectful.”

“It was.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I didn’t have to look over that time. I knew Olivia would be smiling, and at least eighty percent of it would be a gloating smile. The remaining twenty percent? I could speculate.

“Did you tell her that you didn’t do it for her?” I asked.

Olivia’s voice took on the pompous note that meant she was (once again) conveying information to the ignorant.

“When a witch acknowledges a debt, it’s rude to throw it back in their face.”

“Oh, of course,” I said. “My mistake. I can’t imagine you being rude.”

“Not that rude.”

I rolled my eyes.

“She also said she wanted me to come home more often.”

Olivia’s statement was so quiet, I could barely hear it over the music. The click of her tapping her fingernail on the window button was louder.

“What do you think?” I asked.

Click. Click. Click.

Maybe that one was too hard. I tried again: “Do you want to visit more often?”

“Sort of,” she said. “I like my dad. I didn’t realize how much I missed him. But…it’s not that easy.” She pulled her arm off the door and let it rest in her lap, one hand cradling the other. “I’ll have to think about it.”

I dropped my head in a single approving nod.

I knew that making a choice like that would be complicated. It’d take time to sort out her feelings and gauge how much she was willing to risk.

It’s also none of your business, Emerra Cole, I reminded myself, and she wasn’t looking for your approval.

She had it anyway. I always found it encouraging to see the potential for change.

Olivia broke the short silence. “I’ve relayed my mother’s thanks, but I have to acknowledge that I owe you too.”

She tried to make her voice casual, but I could hear how much effort she was putting into that breezy attitude.

She went on, “You didn’t have to come and help me.”

Oof. I’d thought this awkward conversation would take the form of a thank you. I was so sure of it that I’d already practiced the ultra-cool tone I was going to use when I said “no problem.”

I hadn’t prepared anything for the even more awkward I’m-in-your-debt speech.

But it’d be a shame to waste an ultra-cool tone.

“No problem,” I said. “I’m glad Kirby’s home. He’s a sweetheart. Do you think he and Autumn are going to start dating officially now?”

“You’re trying to change the subject,” Olivia said.

“If they get married, are you going to be a bridesmaid?” I gasped, then whispered, “I might get to see you in something other than black!”

“Remember what I said about it being rude to throw it back in a witch’s face when she’s acknowledging a debt?”

“But you already paid me back! Remember?”

“When was this?”

“Sunday. When I asked you to give Nylah a chance.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not? You did it!” I lifted one hand from the wheel long enough to dramatically rest the tips of my fingers against my chest. “I, for one, was very impressed.”

Olivia was unmoved by my flattery. “It’s also rude to be patronizing to a witch.”

“Come on, Olivia,” I whined. “I don’t want you to be in my debt, and you don’t want to be in my debt—”

“You’re right about that.”

“Then can’t we forget about it?”

“No. If you don’t want me to be in your debt, then you’d better think of something I can do for you. And don’t you dare ask for one of my baby pictures, you creeper.”

I propped my elbow on the ledge where the door met the window and rested my head on my fingertips. The window was cold enough that I could feel the chill, even through my sweater sleeve.

Of course Olivia wouldn’t hesitate to saddle me with a job like that. What a witch.

I muttered the lyrics along with the music and let my mind wander. A song and a half later, I moved my hand and sat up straight.

“Okay.” I spoke slowly, giving myself time to prod the idea from several angles as I presented it. “I don’t know if it’s possible, but I’d like your help making something.”

“What?”

“On the other hand, I don’t know if it’d ruin your potion-making supplies.”

“You want me to make you a potion?”

“Not…exactly. And—I want to be clear here—I don’t want you to make it for me. I want you to teach me how to make it.”

“Make what?”

“A balm.”

“A balm? Like, a skin balm?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia put a hand to her forehead. “Can’t you have Mrs. Park buy you some lotion?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Conrad’s pa—hands. It’s for his hands.”

Olivia didn’t answer.

I kept my eyes on the road and waited. The foreground of black trees and white snow flew by, but the dull blue shapes of the far horizon stayed static, holding up the steel gray sky.

Silences tend to intensify embarrassment, and about the time this one turned my cheeks from pink, to red, to dark red, I decided to end it by babbling on. Because that always helps.

“See, he’s been trying to train me how to fight, and I’d like to pay him back, but he won’t use the balms they make for dog paws because—I don’t know—masculine ego, maybe? Wolf pride? Something, anyway—”

“Shut up a minute,” Olivia said.

I shut up.

A few seconds later, I glanced over and discovered that she’d taken out her phone while I’d been babbling.

I smirked and shook my head, but I wasn’t sad to see the matter drop. I wasn’t good with gifts, favors, or witchly debts.

I'd been told my discomfort was a trauma response. My therapists had cited everything from my avoidant attachment style, to the fact that I'd internalized the idea that I didn't deserve anything. Since it was impossible to make it through life without relying on others, I'd learned to ignore it most of the time—but I was still haunted by a sense of shame and frustration whenever someone did something for me or gave me something. Too often, I felt like I could never pay them back.

Huh.

Okay. Maybe I did understand why witches cared so much about debt.

“We’ll have to figure out what to do about the smell,” Olivia muttered.

“Sorry?” I said.

“It’s Conrad,” she said. “We have to be careful about the scent or it might bother him. And if he does have some kind of masculine ego, then we better not rely on anything too floral.” She looked up from her phone. “Bay rum?” She sounded confused. “Have you ever heard of a fragrance called bay rum?”

“A fragrance? That sounds more like a drink!”

“I know.”

“What is it?”

“Apparently it’s one of the more popular fragrances for men.”

“Oh, really?” I said with a smile. “Tell me about it.”