If there was one thing Millie never understood about her parents — especially after she'd grown up — it was how they had managed to love each other so wholly. Drew had once let it slip that Millie's mom had told her father about the curse long before they'd gotten married or had Angel. He'd known, from the beginning, what he could (would) be getting into.

And yet he'd stayed. He'd married her. He'd had seven kids with her. They'd made a life together.

There had never been a moment in Millie's life that she'd doubted the love her parents shared. Being in the room with them was almost suffocating; their feelings were huge and pulsating and took up most of the space. Just seeing them interact together...

When Millie was younger, she'd thought it was sweet. Unlike Clea and Daphne, who always fake-gagged and would tell their parents to get a room, Millie thought it was cool that her parents loved each other so much. They were unlike the other parents of the kids Millie knew from school. They still kissed and held hands, even when no one was around. They gazed at each other across the dining room table. They danced on the porch on hot summer nights with music playing from the stereo in the kitchen.

Once her parents died and Millie grew up, she realized she was actually kind of pissed at them. How could they love each other so much, how could they have children, knowing what would happen?

She'd never tell Angel or any of her sisters, but sometimes Millie blamed her parents for their shitty lives. If they'd just stayed away from each other...if Millie's mom just had never had kids...maybe she'd still be alive. Maybe Millie wouldn't have the curse hanging over her head. Maybe she wouldn't have dragged Sam into this.

Maybe she wouldn't have been born just to die. 

• • •

If anyone had asked (not that anyone knew what she was doing) Millie wouldn't have said that she was stalking Miss Tully, exactly, but she might have told them that for the past two days, she'd been watching the old woman.

Whether or not she was acting like a creep, Millie didn't particularly care. She was trying to get a feel for Miss Tully, and if that meant she'd drive a few cars back from her all day . . . follow her through the grocery store . . . then, whatever, she'd do it (and never admit it).

Although, she did have to admit that parking at the bottom of Melrose Hill to watch Miss Tully's house was a little bit weird — not that it stopped her.

And, Jesus, for a supposed "hedge witch," Miss Tully was boring. So far, Millie had witnessed her buying multiple potted plants from Home Depot, cook books from the Goodwill and like fifty million apples from the Stop & Shop.

For the past hour that Millie had been watching Miss Tully's house, it had been all-quiet and irritation was eating Millie alive. How was this lady supposed to help her, if she just acted like someone's grandma?

Maybe she should've just talked to Miss Tully instead of following her around, but if Millie was being honest, she was kind of scared. What if she'd interpreted her mom's diary entry wrong? 

What if Millie's father, Kyle, had said something along the lines of "Miss Tully is a crazy old lady that's going to try and murder us with her supposed voodoo magic"? And what if Millie's mom had figured out that Miss Tully was, in fact, really just someone's crazy grandmother that lived in a really shitty looking house?

Another part of Millie was fearful that Miss Tully would be able to help her, but just wouldn't want too. She could ask for a million dollars or just be completely uninterested in having anything to do with the Clearwater family, much like everyone else in town. Clearly, her mother had gone to Miss Tully for help and yet she was still dead. Obviously the old woman hadn't been of any help.

But she couldn't think like that. She had to think positively — which, considering the kind of person she was, would probably be the second hardest thing she'd have to do, the first being breaking the curse, of course.

Millie grabbed the diary off the passenger seat next to her and thumbed through the pages absently. Like she'd discovered the past few nights, most entries were about Millie's sisters and herself, with just a sprinkling about the curse.

It made Millie wonder. Had her parents just ignored the curse? Or had they thought that it wouldn't touch them? They had been together for over twenty years and had only been taken a few years after Luce and Leni were born.

Why had it taken so long? Why did it wait twenty-something years? And, if the curse had waited so long to take her parents, why had it begun the first night Millie ever hung out with someone of the opposite sex?

The curse she had been so sure about for her whole life was suddenly different, and Millie had to admit that the uncertainty terrified her. She'd already been in one accident because of the curse, and had the stitches to prove it. Did this mean that anytime she was around Sam, something bad would happen? Or did this mean that randomly, one day, Millie would just croak? And so would Sam?

As wheels crunched over gravel, Millie dropped the diary in her lap and looked up. An annoyingly familiar car was pulling up the drive that led to Miss Tully's house.

Without thinking about it, Millie ducked down, breathing heavily. She knew exactly who that car belonged to, and as she peaked over the dashboard, her suspicions were confirmed: Brandon Smith, Sam's best friend, was driving up to Miss Tully's house.

What the hell was he, of all people, doing here? This was the last place she'd expect to see Brandon, the first being the batting cages, the second being Sam's house.

Even more surprising than his sudden appearance (and it was surprising enough to give her a mini-heart attack) was his familiarity with Miss Tully's property. He pulled right up, easily driving around the pothole fifty feet from her porch, and stopped just a hair shy of the wooden steps. As he got out of his car, swinging out of the seat, Millie looked beyond him and noticed Miss Tully standing in the doorway.

From the distance, neither of them would be able to see her crouched in her car, but that also meant she couldn't hear or tell what they were saying. Brandon strode up the steps and waltzed past Miss Tully, into the house, without looking at or acknowledging her. The older woman waited a beat, her arms over her chest, staring down the hill.

She can't see me, Millie assured herself, she can't. Even if her car was visible, the windows were tinted. Still, something about the way Miss Tully stared . . .

No. It was too far for anyone to see, let alone an old woman. She just had to believe that.

After a few moments, Miss Tully turned on the heels of her moccasins and stomped into her house after Brandon, the door slamming shut behind her, hard enough that Millie felt it rattle all the way down the hill.

As she sat there, her chest heaving, her phone buzzed in her purse on the floor of the passenger seat. She fumbled for it, breathing hard, hands shaking.

An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen, but she answered it anyway; since her old phone had disappeared into the lake, she had none of her contacts saved yet, beyond her sisters (not that she had that many people to talk to besides them, anyway).

"Hey," a voice said, and it took Millie a moment to place it. When she did, her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "Are you going to come inside or are you just going to keep following Miss Tully around for the next month?"

When Millie glanced up, Miss Tully's door was open again.

"I hate you," Millie told Brandon and hung up.

Seconds later, he appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. While he didn't exactly look inviting, he didn't appear to be openly hostile toward her presence, either.

After a moment of hesitation, Millie started her car and eased it up the hill, avoiding the pothole like Brandon had, and parking a few feet behind him. He was still in the doorway, watching her, when she grabbed the diary off the floorboard and shoved it into her purse. She slung the strap over her shoulder as she threw open the car door and hopped out.

"We were wondering when you'd show up," Brandon called out to her, shifting on his feet so he was leaning against the doorjamb.

"Why?" Millie couldn't hide the suspicion in her voice, but it seemed to amuse Brandon.

The corners of his mouth lifted up in what could've been a smirk or a grimace—Millie wasn't entirely sure. "You're not really that sneaky." Brandon shrugged. "Miss Tully knew you were following her the whole time."

Millie frowned and put one foot on the bottom porch step. As she did, Brandon stepped out from the doorway. She stopped moving. "Oops?"

"Not to mention," he said, looking past her. "We figured you'd show up after the accident. I was surprised it took you so long to realize."

Cold suspicion dripped down Millie's spine as she stared up at him. "So long to realize what?"

Brandon met her gaze. "To realize that the curse isn't what you thought it was."