¹⁸, WITCH TRIALS IN THE DARK

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𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄
chapter eighteen; Witch Trials In The Dark
Everything is different now. "

  "HEADING OUT ALREADY?" Roman asked, wiping down a glass before stashing it beneath the bar

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  "HEADING OUT ALREADY?" Roman asked, wiping down a glass before stashing it beneath the bar.

  Salem was gathering her things, stacking books atop one another from the end of the booth, she halted to face the man as he approached her in the empty pub.

  "Yeah," She sighed, "Sirius offered to save a seat for me at dinner— it'd be a shame if he did that for nothing."

  "Are you two. . . uh. . ."

  "We're just friends," Salem laughed at Roman's clear discomfort.

  "Seemed pretty close not too long ago."

  "We both need a bit of comfort," She attempted to explain, "But, um, we're not dating. We're not going to date."

  Roman nodded as the girl continued to pack up.

  "Oh, by the way," The man clapped, "Rosy found a box beneath the bar— we didn't open it 'cause I assumed it was yours. And, I dunno, maybe I should've snooped, being, you know. . ."

  "Being?"

  "Being your dad and all," Roman finished, waving his hand, "Uh—"

  "Oh—"

  "No, sorry, it was weird, right?"

  "I dunno—"

  "I've been wondering about the whole 'dad' thing, honestly, you still call me Roman—"

  "I can call you 'Dad'—"

  "Not if it'll make you uncomfortable—"

  "It wouldn't—"

  "You seem uncomfortable already."

  Salem let out a long breath, her shoulders falling from their tense state which made Roman chuckle lightly.

  "It'll take getting used to," She admitted, "I've never called anyone 'Dad' before."

  "I've never been called 'Dad' before," He countered, "But you're a great kid and it'd mean the world, I suppose."

  Salem smiled. Genuinely. It felt good knowing that Roman wasn't just owning up to it, being a father, that it wasn't out of guilt or wasted time or fear— he wanted to be her dad. To check up on her and go on Valentine's day dates that consisted of nothing much other than deciphering the difficult ramblings of Carl Sandberg and eating kettle corn.

  It was nice to feel wanted.

  "Anyway, your box," Roman cleared his throat, striding back behind the bar and retrieving the hatbox that hid so many secrets, "Figure you didn't want ole' Rosy to snoop on you."

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄, james potterWhere stories live. Discover now