Back in a Spell (The Witches of Thistle Grove, #3)

by Lana Harper

“A little CW bone structure never hurt nobody.”

You’re in no danger from this person. He holds no power over you, nor any license to do you harm. You are who you are, and his opinion of you is not dispositive of anything.

“Yes. I deeply regret to inform you that we are, apparently, witch married to each other now.”

“So much pain, and you just keep it locked up inside like a fucking soldier, marching on. And shit, I thought I’d had it tough.” “You know what they say,” I managed thickly, through the residual tears. “Sometimes you have to roll the hard six.”

Whatever else Morty was going to be to me, I suddenly knew his presence in my life—his mind and heart braided with mine through the bond, his body ensconced in me—was intended to be a gift. Something to enhance, to protect, to bring joy. Something meant to heal. And maybe, if I let myself, I could be the same for him.

I’d wished for power, strength, comfort—and the goddess had granted it, by giving me the most literal version of what I’d asked for.

But that was the point, and the comfort of it, too; no matter the weight of your pain or loss, the world only ever knew how to move on.