Take a Hint, Dani Brown (The Brown Sisters, #2)

by Talia Hibbert

“You do realize it’s not good for a witch to be so out of touch with her own feelings, don’t you?”

“You’re such a rude girl. Respect your elders.” She narrowed her eyes at him, tilted her head mockingly, and simpered, “Please, dearest Chacha, sleep eight hours a night instead of writing charity letters or whatever it is you do, and maybe you will not be at work looking like a dead thing, inshallah.”

See, what Zaf really wanted was to be happy, and he’d read enough romance novels to know how to make that happen. First, you reached your goals and shit. (He was working on that part.) Second, you found a good woman who made you think bad thoughts and you lived happily ever after with her.

George appeared at Zaf’s shoulder to mutter, “Anyone ever tell you that you have strong supervillain energy?”

Chloe would tell Dani to buy a new laptop, because she didn’t understand that old technology could hold character and luck.

If she saw this video, she’d probably think he was obsessed with her, or in love with her, or one of those douchebag “nice guys” who only befriended women because he secretly wanted to sleep with them. They’d have to have a painfully awkward conversation where she explained that she wasn’t interested, that the coffee and the occasionally flirtatious jokes were just friendship and lighthearted banter, and shit, she’d thought he knew. And it would be especially galling because he did fucking know. Of course he did. So why are you looking at her like that?

He could smell her: she was warm skin and fresh fruit and the sweet smoke of blown-out birthday candles, delicious and a little confusing all at once.

Zaf tasted like rich, warm comfort and straightforward sweetness, sherbet-sharp and almost, impossibly, familiar.

Sweet exasperation crept into his tone, a gleaming thread that said, I know what a chaos demon you are, and I think it’s great.

A sensible woman played to her strengths and left immaterial weaknesses behind.

“If you ever want to know how I do things,” she purred, “just ask.” He didn’t flush, didn’t stutter or change the subject. He didn’t bite, either, didn’t smirk or sway closer. No, Zaf just shook his head, squeezed the back of her neck, and said, “Behave yourself, trouble.” Dani blinked. She had the oddest feeling something about their sexual balance had irreversibly changed, and not necessarily in her favor.

Zaf wasn’t nice. He was kind. It was a notable distinction.

swoon at the sight of a man in a Henley, even if that Henley was forest green and clung to every inch of him,

A lot of people considered Dani oblivious, but that wasn’t true: she simply chose to ignore the things that didn’t interest her in favor of the things that did.

Suddenly, he had no idea why he’d worried she might react the wrong way to any part of this story. Well, yes, he did: anxiety. That was why. But still. Dani was never going to treat him like a sideshow, because she was a good person. And if she had, she wouldn’t have been a good person, so what she thought wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

That wasn’t the full story, just a fraction of it. Because the press had left Zaf alone eventually, but grief hadn’t. Not for a long, long time. He wasn’t going to tell her about the heights his anxiety had reached, or how it turned out depression could fuel rage like nothing else, or how bleak it felt when the fire ran out and the demons were all you had left.

“Don’t look so surprised. You know I love your brain.” At which point, Dani stopped thinking of anything at all. Her throat dried up like the desert, and tiny darts of sheer, sunlit happiness zipped through her blood, and her eyes prickled oddly hot at the corners because—actually, she didn’t know why. All she knew was no one had ever said a thing like that before.

“It smells like you.” Like peace and candlelight.

he knew Danika well enough to realize that soft touches and significant looks meant nothing. When she made a decision, she spoke.

But Inez Holly refrained from passing judgment, for she was great and merciful.

“But all that can be exhausting, so make sure you take care of yourself, too. There’s great value in the things that bring you joy.”

Major or minor, if something keeps you human when pressure makes you feel like a volcano, hold on to that thing by whatever means necessary.”

The giddy, tender swirl of her feelings shouldn’t matter: you weren’t supposed to put your happiness in someone else’s hands. It never worked.

She didn’t want anything bad or sad for him, not even if it meant maintaining her own comfort. Which seemed a disturbing and potentially dangerous outlook,

“Sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “You apologize unnecessarily,” she told him, and turned to meet his eyes. “I know you put a lot of stock in the fact that you’re ‘better’ now. That you handle things. That you cope. But coping takes a lot out of a person, too. And handling things doesn’t mean never struggling or slipping up. Life isn’t that black-and-white, not even close. So I want you to do or say or feel whatever the fuck you like, about everything, but especially about this. And I never want you to tell me you’re sorry for feeling things. Not ever again.”

it was romance novels that reminded me. Since you’ve never read one, that probably sounds weird. But it’s all about emotion, Dan—the whole thing, the whole story, the whole point. Just book after book about people facing their issues head on, and handling it, and never, ever failing—at least, not for good. I felt like my world had already ended unhappily, but every book I read about someone who’d been through the worst and found happiness anyway seemed to say the opposite. Like my story didn’t need to be over if I didn’t want it to. Like, if I could just be strong enough to reclaim my emotions, and to work through them, maybe I’d be okay again. That’s kind of what inspired me to, er, keep going. To make good choices, even when feeling better seemed impossible.”

Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. If only she was ridiculous enough to believe that, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Because the world wasn’t split into unhappy endings and happily ever afters. There were blessings everywhere and a thousand shades of joy all around him. Every shade should be savored.

“You know that’s not how signs and invocations work. You’re not supposed to use random happenings as an excuse to avoid dealing with what you really want. You’re supposed to pay attention to what resonates. You’re supposed to take a fucking hint!”

People shouldn’t be changed—but perhaps they should grow.