Slightly Spellbound (7 page)

I shifted, leaning against the counter. Zach and I had reminders of what we meant to each other, too. A certain keepsake came to mind. No matter how angry he was, I couldn’t imagine him throwing it away.

Check
, I told myself.
See if it’s still there. If he got rid of it, that’ll say it all. You can go on home.

I hesitated, then walked into the bedroom and dropped to my knees in front of his dresser. I opened the bottom drawer and dug under the socks. For a minute, I thought the card was gone. All the air seemed to deflate from my lungs, leaving me breathless.

When I felt the plastic Ziploc bag, my heart jumped. I fished out the bag, and there was the small card I’d given him for his fifteenth birthday. I didn’t need to take it out, but my fingers worked without any specific command from my brain. Opening the card, I saw my teenage handwriting.

For your present, meet me under the bridge.

Zach’s not a sentimental guy, but he’d saved that card all through the years. The bridge was where we’d had our first kiss when we were eight. And it’s where we met on the night we made love for the first time. I hear that the first time’s not good for a lot of people, but Zach and I had been together for years by then. We’d played around plenty, the way kids in a small town will on warm nights when school’s out and there’s nothing to do. By the time he turned fifteen, Zach and I had known our way around each other’s bodies and when we went all the way that night, we’d both liked it.

Afterward, I’d lain next to him and said, “So you’ve been asking me to do that for a year. I heard TJ say it’s not a big deal, and you should stick to everything else I’m willing to do for as long as you could.”

“You heard that? I told him to shut his damn mouth,” he said, frowning. His brother TJ had said plenty of crude stuff that night, drunk on cheap beer and revved up over a fight with the girl he’d eventually marry. “I thought you were asleep in the back of the truck. I don’t want you hearing that kind of filthy talk.”

I’d rolled my eyes. “He was just sore over the fight he had with that girl he’s in love with.”

“Who says he’s in love with her?”

“Nobody has to say it. I’ve got eyes. Whenever she won’t go out with him, he gets drunk and pretends he doesn’t care about women. Whenever she will go out with him, he spends twenty minutes brushing his teeth and half an hour digging through T-shirts to find the one that best shows off his muscles.”

Zach laughed. “He does do that. Asshole,” he said affectionately. “So what were you going to ask me?”

“I was asking if it was worth it? That didn’t have to be your birthday present. There’s still time for me to buy you that leather jacket you like.”

“To hell with leather jackets. This is what I want every year on my birthday.” He turned his head to meet my eyes and grinned. “And all the days in between, if it were up to me.”

I laughed and kissed him. “It’s your birthday. Should we use the L word again?” I asked. After everyone at school had started broadcasting that they loved each other after dating for a week, Zach and I had gotten fed up and decided we’d only say it to each other on special occasions. That night, I’d whispered it to him toward the end, and he’d held me tighter.

He nodded. “Hearing you say you love me while we’re together that way . . .”

“What?” I asked, leaning close to him.

He shrugged. “Anyone can give me a leather jacket. You’re the only one who can give me this.”

I kissed him and ran my hands over his body until we were both urgent for each other again. We’d made the most of that night and plenty of others. And over the years when we’d had terrible fights, eventually one of us would slip a note to the other saying,
When you’re done being mad, send me a note to meet you under the bridge
. Even after we had a house of our own, sometimes we’d meet under the bridge to make up before we came back to it.

I put the card back and returned to the kitchen, lost in thought.

When I was with Bryn, I was happy. But Zach could make me happy, too. If he hadn’t lost faith in me when he’d thought I was either making Edie up or losing my mind, our marriage might not have fallen apart. Now he knew I’d told the truth about Edie. He’d seen her. He’d accepted that magic existed and had even gone to train with people who’d tangled with the supernatural. So I wondered whether Zach and I could salvage things, if we could recapture the early days before he’d started treating me like I couldn’t be trusted to run my own life. I frowned. I could never go back to him being condescending to me. But I’d missed him when he was gone, like a piece of my heart had been stolen.

I had dinner almost ready when a face popped up in the kitchen window. I dropped the skillet on the stovetop. Little splatters of butter stung my skin and I cursed.

I opened the window. “Vangie, what in the world are you doing here?”

“Providing moral support.”

“Come again?” I asked.

“It’s all over town that you came over here for a secret rendezvous with your ex.”

“All over town,” I sputtered. “Who blabbed?” I peered out the windows at the neighboring houses.

“Well, I heard it at that sports bar, Jammers. The hostess with the curly hair is a huge gossip. She stops by each table and talks for thirty minutes or more.”

“Jammers is loud. There’s no way you’d be able to hear half of what was said at the next table, let alone be able to follow Georgia Sue’s conversations all over the restaurant.”

“So you know her? Of course you do! Well, I feel like I know most of the townspeople, too, after listening to her for three hours.”

“Three hours!”

“Yes, people-watching is my favorite pastime. If I could be a fly on the wall or completely invisible . . . the best thing ever. And three hours isn’t that long. I had an order of hot wings, two glasses of wine that I suspect came from a box, and a slice of apple pie that you apparently made. Delicious, by the way. The way you elevate a simple fruit pie into something so heavenly—you’re the Michelangelo of baked goods. Seriously, a double oven is your Sistine Chapel.”

I was flabbergasted for a moment and started to gush my thanks before I remembered myself. “But I still don’t understand how you heard anything with the jukebox going full blast.”

“I used a spell.”

I blinked. “An eavesdropping spell?”
Just like her daddy!
I thought.

She nodded. “I also hex-bombed a couple of patrons who said nasty things about you.”

“People said nasty—wait, hex-bombed? You mean you put hexes on them? You can’t do that, Vangie!”

She wrinkled her nose. “I can and I will if they say unkind things about my friend.”

“What kind of hexes?”

“Something I picked up while eavesdropping on my stepmonster, Oatha. A minor curse she was practicing. The people will just think they have the flu for a couple of days. Nothing serious.”

A curse! To make someone sick!

No wonder Vangie suspected her stepmomma of killing her husband. That would make me suspicious, too. But from what I understood, killing spells were complicated and needed a lot of power. Usually only witches and wizards with a certain kind of magic—blood-and-bones magic—could perform lifesaving or life-ending spells with their normal abilities. Even if Oatha had gotten enough power to cast the spell, how would she have enough energy left to cloak the magic well enough that smart wizards like Bryn wouldn’t be able to detect traces on Vangie’s dad’s body?

“The people will have mild fever and body aches,” Vangie continued. “Although if they say any more spiteful things about you, I can’t guarantee it won’t become encephalitis.”

“Encepha-what?”

“Brain fever.”

“Brain fever!” I shouted.

“Shh!” she said, looking around. “May I remind you that you’re talking to me through an open window? Your ex-husband’s neighbors could overhear.”

“Vangie,” I said in a low voice that struggled for calm. “It was real sweet of you to look out for me and my reputation, but the thing you have to understand about Duvall is that if people weren’t talking about each other it wouldn’t feel like home. Also, I might deserve for people to say a few bad things about me today. After all, I cooked one man breakfast and I’m fixing dinner for another.”

“So? Where’s their loyalty? You saved this town from near destruction more than once. If you’ve decided to live your life like an episode of
Jersey Shore
, that’s no one’s affair but yours.”

“
Jersey
—wow. When you put it like that, I really have to think about the choices I’m making. But that’s not the issue now. The important thing is for you to lift those hexes this instant.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“This instant, or we can’t be friends.”

She rested her chin on the ledge, crestfallen.

“But we can if you just remove those curses. And I have a surprise. I made you that Chambord torte.”

“Did you really?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Sure, I did. As soon as I have a visit with Zach and go on home, I’ll call you and you can come over. We’ll have a slice together. But first you have to undo your hexes. No spell removal, no torte. That’s the deal.”

“I suppose I’ll have to—hey,” she said, turning her head sharply.

“What?”

A bush rustled like it had been jostled by invisible cats.

“He’s coming,” she said, and disappeared from view.

“Who’s coming? What?” I asked, standing on my tiptoes to look out the window. She was crouched under the sill scanning the quiet street. “What in the world?”

“I cast a bug spell. And by that, I don’t mean insect,” she added when I wrinkled my nose. “It supplies me with a supernatural bionic ear. He’s listening to classic country. Hank Williams Jr. A tired choice,” she said. “Don’t tell him I said so!”

Vangie darted between some tall shrubs, then emerged several houses down and made her way to the street. She got into her car just as Zach’s truck pulled into the driveway.

I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself and then turned off the burners. I put pork chops, black-eyed peas, and corn bread on plates and set them on the table.

The front door opened, and I saw Zach in the doorway before he spotted me. Several things hit me all at once. First, that he was coming home from working out because his T-shirt and dark blond curls were damp with sweat. Second, he’d let his whiskers grow because he had a mustache and a bit of a beard, and third, he wasn’t alone.

7

EDIE AND ZACH were talking.

Edie and Zach were talking?

As the door opened, she’d been saying something about a truck stop.

“There are worse things in the world than that bathroom,” he said with a laugh. “And I’ll thank my lucky stars if I never have to see ’em.”

“You have company,” Edie said, and they both looked at me.

Dressed in strands of enormous pearls and a feathered headband, Edie looked as glamorous and cool as ever. The spell that had rattled the ghosts didn’t seem to be bothering her now.

“See you later, cowboy,” Edie said to Zach. Then she blew me a kiss and disappeared.

“You’re friends with Edie now?” I asked, taken aback by their cozy togetherness.

“You lost?” he asked, and shut the front door with a casualness I didn’t believe. He tossed his keys on the coffee table and turned on the stereo.

“Someone played a Lonestar song for me on the Duvall-Dyson request hour.”

“Wasn’t me. Maybe it was the guy you’re sleeping with.”

“Playing ‘Let’s Be Us Again’?” I shook my head. “You’re the only one who could play that for me,” I said, setting napkins on the table.

He opened the fridge and took out a Shiner. “I haven’t been listening to Lonestar lately. I’ve been listening to Lee Brice. A song called, ‘That’s When You Know It’s Over.’”

“Maybe I should listen to that. Sounds like he’s got the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself.”

He leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching me. “
Are
you still asking yourself that question?”

I nodded, my stomach knotting.

He took a long swig from his beer, watching me the entire time. He lowered the bottle and tipped his head back so he looked over my head rather than in my eyes. “I heard you’re living with him.”

“I’m not.”

“Pretty close to it, though,” he said in a low voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” There was a slight quaver in my voice. “I had to see you.”

He nodded. “Do you remember that time Tara Moore planted one on me under the mistletoe at Jammers, and you and I had that fight in the parking lot that lasted an hour?”

“I remember. Everyone came outside to watch, like it was pregame and they were tailgating.”

“You got the tire iron from the truck and busted her headlights and said next time you wouldn’t stop with her car. You remember that?”

I flushed. “I have a bad temper sometimes. Red hair,” I said, flicking a strand.

He walked over to me and lifted my hand. “My ring hasn’t been on your finger in a long time. You’re wearing someone else’s ring now.”

Damn it, Bryn! You swore he wouldn’t be able to see it!

“It’s not that kind of ring!”

“You’re kissing someone else good-bye in the morning when he goes to work. Sleeping in his bed,” he said, anger rolling in like the tide. “And all day long I’m this close to driving to his house with a tire iron.” He breathed shallow and uneven. “I haven’t carried my gun for three days because if I ran into him, I’d probably use it.”

“I know it seems bad right now.”

“It
seems
bad?” he said.

“Look at me,” I said, grabbing his arms. “Just look at me.”

He did, his eyes wild with pain.

“Listen to me,” I whispered. “Nothing’s settled. He’s in my life. I care about him. But I care about you, too. I promised I wouldn’t make a decision while you were gone, and I didn’t.” A searing pain shot up my arms and I reeled back. Both arms felt completely numb with that “pins and needles” sensation buzzing through them like they’d fallen asleep. Zach hadn’t touched my arms. I didn’t understand what had happened.