I was about to leave for work when I heard Ben's office door slam and the sound of unsteady footsteps in the hall.

He rarely took a break from work until well into the afternoon, and I wondered if maybe the cupcake had made him thirsty and if he'd like some of the fresh coffee I'd made.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, though, I could tell that whatever had made him leave his desk was more serious than a little thirst.

Sweat soaked his linen, lavender-colored shirt, long streaks showing beneath his armpits and across his chest, and a sickly paleness marked his face. He leaned against the wall for support, and when he raised a hand to his damp hair, I saw that it shook.

The last time he'd looked this bad was when he'd gotten food poisoning from a food truck selling fish tacos on the hottest day of the year (the truck's refrigeration had broken the day before—I knew because I'd tracked down the owner to give him a lecture about food safety, and we ended up having brunch, and I'd given him five hundred bucks after he told me about the cat rescue he ran on the side, but that's a story for another time).

"Ben, oh my God, are you okay?" I asked, setting down my plastic tray of cupcakes and going to where he leaned heavily against the wall.

"No, Matt. I don't think I am." He met my eyes and his own are full of fear. "I think I...I think I might have something wrong with me. A brain tumor, maybe, or a stroke. Or something."

He stopped to gulp air, and I felt a shock of alarm shoot me through the heart.

"What!? Why? What happened?" I hold his shoulders, trying to make him meet my eyes.

"I...I said a bunch of shit to a client. Stuff that I thought, but that I didn't mean to say. God damn it—stuff I'd never say, no matter how fucking true it was."

He stopped for breath again, and stumbled away from me to fall heavily onto one of the high-backed wooden dining chairs, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

"And then...my boss called," he went on. "And I did the same thing." He shook his head. "Everything out of my mouth—I couldn't stop myself. I told him exactly what I thought."

Pausing again, he looked up at me, his dark eyes hollow. "Matt...he fired me. I...I think I need to go to the hospital. I think there's something seriously wrong."

His voice shook, and it was clear he was scared.

So was I.

Very, very scared.

"Ben...do you believe in magick?" I asked carefully.

He stared up at me. "Of course I do. I've seen too much not to believe in it. You know that."

"Do you like it?" I kept my voice even and calm, even though my heart was beating triple time in my chest.

"In theory," he answered, rubbing his hands over his face. "In practice, not so much. It scares me."

"Why?"

He looked up at me and met my eyes. "Because people I care about have been hurt or almost killed by it, that's why."

"You mean Ari."

"I mean you, Matt!" he shouted, making me jump. "And yes, I mean Ari, too. But he can handle it. You...You're like a little kid with a gun, or a bomb, or something. You're gonna hurt yourself. Why are you asking me all this?"

I swallowed hard, scrambling to think of something I knew was true but that Ben would never admit—except maybe under torture, and maybe not even then.

"When you first moved back here," I asked, the words tumbling over each other in their haste to escape my mouth, "would you have left me if Ari had been willing to take you back?"

He gaped at me—appalled, distressed, and starting to catch on. "Yes," he said soundlessly, his bloodless lips barely forming the word. "Matt..."

"It's okay, Ben. I knew that already," I reassured him.

He didn't look reassured.

"Matt...what did you do?"

"N-Nothing! I just—"

"Don't lie!" he yelled, making me jump a second time. "You don't get to lie to me right now!"

"I—I—It's just a spell! It wasn't supposed to work like this!" I protested, already feeling my emotions starting to wobble out of balance under the force of his anger.

"Just a spell? I just lost my fucking job, Matt! And why? Why would you do this to me?"

"Because I wanted to hear the truth for once!" I said.

"For once!?"  he repeated, aghast, and placed his hand over his mouth, breathing hard. His eyes went to the tray of lemon cupcakes and I saw things clicking into place. He lowered his hand, and went on in a calmer, colder voice. "Matt, I have never lied to you about anything of any importance. Could I even say that right now if it wasn't true?"

I shook my head, unable to speak. He exhaled sharply, looked away, and then drew a long breath.

"Jesus, Matt. I love you—you're my fucking world—but this is too much, even for me."

He turned and stomped up the stairs to the bedroom and I heard the door slam. I stood for a moment without moving, and then went slowly to the glass-fronted cabinets and got down a fresh mug. Pouring myself another cup of coffee, I kept my expression blank even if I couldn't see through the tears gathering in my eyes.

I made a mistake. I knew that now. I'd suspected it already, but now I was certain.

I should never have tried to use magick on Ben. It was wrong, and I was sorry.

But I'd apologize and explain, and then he'd forgive me, and then maybe we'd have make-up sex and go job hunting. Not at the same time, of course.

And I'd have to call the cafe and let Tiara know I'd be taking the day off, and see if Paul could cover for me on short notice, even though Wednesday is his drag night, and I knew he needed the afternoon to prepare, but he owed me that favor, after all...

I'd already gotten a good ways into this plan, when a noise on the stair made me turn.

Ben stood in the hall, two travel bags in his hands. He set them down slowly and straightened, never taking his eyes off me. Was he taking me on a spur-of-the-moment vacation? A fresh start, or something? I didn't think Paul would be willing to cover for more than a day, but I supposed I could ask.

"Ben, what—"

"Matt...how long will this...spell...of yours last?" he asked, cutting me off. He wasn't smiling, and his face was still food-poison pale.

"I—I don't know," I replied. "Probably just until you digest the cupcake and, er, pass it along."

He sighed—an unhappy, conflicted sound.

"I need some time to think. Some space," he said. "I know your heart's in a good place, Matt—it always is—and I don't know what I did to make you feel like you had to do this to me, but...I think maybe we both need to figure that out. On our own."

And that's when I dropped my favorite, hand-made stoneware mug and splashed coffee all over myself and half the kitchen floor.

So yeah, maybe I wasn't completely honest the first time around.

What Ben really didn't love at the moment was not our house, or its ghosts, or my possibly ill-advised attraction to all things weird and wonderful, all creatures strange and small, (that's how that goes, right?).

I mean, all that was still true, but what he really really didn't love was that I'd messed with magick, fed him an enchanted cupcake, betrayed his trust, and caused him to lose his job.

Oops.