This was a bad idea. 

A truly, terrible, horrible idea.

I knew that but Cass, on the other hand, didn't. 

"Come on, Cal," he grunted, his palms pressing firmly into my back. "Get moving already!"

My lips tightened into a firm line. Even with my stiff posture and heavy brows, Cass still managed to push me further up the hill I had decided to die on. I could already see the tiny, yellow building glowing in the hazy mist that blew over Bloomsbury. 

When I first saw the bakery, I realized it was nothing how my brother depicted it. The millions of letters he sent made me believe the building hiding in the outskirts of town would be horrid. I pictured bare, splintered boards keeping it together and was, instead, greeted by strong, sunny walls. I imagined the door to be old and decrepit but was welcomed in by a tall oak entrance with a golden handle. Though, the biggest difference I found were the large, round windows that held her silhouette like a painting. 

I ran towards the bakery when I first saw it. But, now that three days passed and I had rightfully made a fool of myself, I refused to go near it for a while.  

"You could go just so we won't be stuck in this damned rain."

I rolled my eyes. "Or, we could go back the bar."

"So, you can continue being a big Chicken?" Cass scoffed before slamming his back into mine. "Yeah, I don't think so."

My sigh came out low. "I told you to stop calling me that."

"And I," he pushed, "told you -" 

Again.

"-to stop being a big-" 

And again. 

"-old-" 

And again. 

"-Chick-Whoa!"

CLANK!

When Cass slammed into my back for the hundredth time, it was face-first into the back of my copper chest plate. He swallowed a scream as he wobbled around to face me. His hand was cupping his face while his eyes scrunched closed. 

"Gods," he groaned. The sound nasally and full of pain. I huffed a laugh while Cass rubbed the pain away from his bloody nose. This, of course, was a mistake. 

I was too busy watching Cass struggle with the stream of blood rushing towards his lip that I didn't catch the swift boot swinging my way. His foot slammed into my shin. The force of the attack was so powerful that I realized something. 

Cass may be short but there was still a teeny, tiny possibility that he could still bury me in the dirt.

I hopped on one foot, cradling my shin in my hands. "Son of a-"

"What 'cha still wearing that thing for!"

I raised my head, the quick movement causing the tail of red hair to fly out of my face. "What?"

Cass took a heavy step forward and I was ashamed to admit that I took an even bigger step back. A crazed finger pointed at my chest. "Take it off!"

"I'm not doing that."

Cass's long face bloomed with anger. Even his eyes went wide as he straightened. 

Were his shoulders always that broad?

"Cal," he seethed through bloodied teeth. Knuckles cracked at his sides while his gaze darkened. "You better have a good reason why not."

Silence hung in the hazy air between us. Our blue eyes challenged each other while a shaky hand made its way to my heart. My cheeks burned in the cool breeze.

"Cause I..."

"Huh?"

"I h-have a, uhm-"

"Speak up!"

"A s-s-stai-"

"A what?"

"I have a stain on this shirt, okay!" My gaze fell to my feet while my hands tried to explain. "Mary's damned Shepard's Pie had so much gravy that a bit fell on my shirt. This shirt! My only shirt! I tried getting it out but I just made it worse and now..."

My hand went back to the large, brown spot that hovered over my heart. It was horrid and looked like something I dug out of the toilet. Still, I had no choice but to wear it. 

Cass's clothes had become far too small for me and the tailor here didn't make any garments my size. I hated that I still had to wear my copper armor - even if it was just the chest plate. But, bearing the weight of the Hunt was much better than walking around Bloomsbury with a questionable stain on my chest.

Or, at least, that's what I thought until I caught a glimpse of bright forests billowing in the distance.

"That's it?" Cass groaned, unaware of the curtain of black silk dancing in the winds behind him.

A small, delicate hand had pushed the large oak door just far enough for Winfred Taylor Crowley to peek outside. 

"A stain? Geez, I can't believe I really thought - ugh, never mind."

Another set of frail fingers clutched a tiny book that guarded her heart well.  

"You know, for a big guy, you really are a pansy."

Those ruby lips of hers fell open when she caught my blissful gaze. The billowing winds, then, took her soft gasp with them as Winfred slammed the door.

Huh?

"Yoo-hoo! Earth to Cal!" Cass's hand waved swiftly over my stone-like expression. "Did you hear me? I called you a pans-"

"She," I began, the brown stain on my chest caving into my broken heart. "S-She shut the door."

"Hm?"

Swiping his slightly swollen nose with a single finger, Cass twirled around on his heel. His blue eyes bounced over to the large painting on the left that depicted my old friend, Winfred, growing paler at the sight of us. 

I swore her narrow shoulders quaked in fear while she took a brave step forward. Thick sheets of red fell over her horrified expression, confirming what I was too cowardly to admit.

I, the Great Callan of the East, had terrified the only woman I ever loved.

It was obvious, wasn't it? Why wouldn't she be terrified of me? I had basically cornered her the other day sputtering on and on about pie. I didn't even like pie! 

Not to mention I was covered head to toe in my copper armor. The same armor that made other witches tremble. 

I tried to look past my lovesick memory only to find the cruel, heartbreaking truth in our reunion. 

Winfred didn't give me those pies out of kindness to a poor passerby. They weren't a gift to a stranger. Nor were they a present to an old friend. 

No, no, it was worse. Much worse...

Winfred Taylor Crowley gave away three handcrafted Apple Pies only so she could get rid of a creepy, smelly, pie-loving Witch Hunter.

My face buried itself into my hands while the weight of it all pushed my feet further into the mud. "She hates me."

Cass raised a brow. "What was that?"

"I'm an idiot."

 He whistled. "Well, I knew that."

"She'll never want to see me again."

Cass laughed, then. The sound was loud and boisterous and made me want to crumble even more. While I thought about truly dying on this blasted hill, he reached up to grab the collar of the copper chest plate that I, now, hated even more.

He yanked me forward, my feet fumbling towards the bakery. My teeth clattered as I tried to speak but, of course, Cass beat me to it.

"Come on, big fella. Let's go get some of Granny Bett's famous pie!"