So why was I so afraid now that it had?
Maybe because, for the first time, I understood that love—in all its wonder and wildness—was the scariest thing to lose. People always said it was better to have loved and lost, but those people clearly hadn’t seen the shelves of cold cases in the Agency basement.
My aunt had tried to play it safe, settling for “good enough.” I’d sworn I’d never be like her. But lying here, wrapped in the man I used to call a one-night stand miracle—someone who could walk away when our time was up and take my heart with him—made me realize why she had.
Grant stirred, pressing a lingering kiss to my shoulder. “Morning, Spells.”
I groaned, rolling in his arms. “You know, I used to hate it when you called me that. I’d imagine sticking a Grant-shaped voodoo doll full of pins.”
“I know,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep. “Your eyes would cross every time. It became my mission to use it as often as possible.”
“When you stopped, I missed it.”
He tipped my chin up, brushing his thumb along my jaw. “Worst year ofmy life.”
“Same.”
For so many reasons.
I’d been hiding things for so long. Secrets I knew and feelings I’d kept denying.
“Can I tell you something?” I asked, the words thick, shame like a pressure at the back of my throat.
“I should hope so. No one can make me testify against you on the witness stand.” He dragged the pad of his thumb down to the hollow of my throat, teasing. “Go ahead. Are there more voodoo doll victims out there? How many ex-husbands do I have to worry about?”
“Ha-ha.” I caught his wrist before he could move it lower. “You’re hilarious.”
“You’re just catching on?” he murmured, turning his captured hand and threading his fingers through my hair instead.
“I’m being serious.”
“Okay, Spells.” His voice dropped, quieter now. “Then so am I.”
My throat went dry. The words scraped out anyway. “I haven’t told anyone this.”
Grant didn’t move. His hand stayed in my hair, fingers curling slightly, a silentI’m listening.
“I—” My voice faltered. How did you tell someone that the thing that defined you had disappeared? Not just anyone, but my boss. Though hopefully, in this moment, just my husband.
I swallowed hard. “I lost my magic. It had been glitching for a while. I exploded a muffin once. A crumb got in my eye, and it got so irritated, I thought I’d have to wear an eye patch.”
I pressed my face into his neck, trying to smother the urge to cry. “Listen to me, joking about the biggest failure in my life.”
His chest rose beneath my cheek. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around me, tracing slow circles againstmy back. The rhythm was soothing. I was tempted to get lost in it, but I kept going.
“I went to that waterfall last year to try and fix it,” I whispered. “I thought I could wish my curse away. It didn’t work. And I’ve been lying to everyone. Pretending I’m still me.” My voice cracked. “Except I’m not.”
“You’re still you, Spells,” he said quietly. “Magic doesn’t define us. Showing up does. Every day. Every Christmas, when we just want to take a vacation from seasonal depression.”
A laugh trembled out of me, halfway to a sob. “Leave it to you to make a pep talk sound like one of those prescription drug commercials.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into me. “Side effects may include headaches and the urge to eat an entire tin of fudge.”
I smiled against his skin, letting my nerves settle, until his tone shifted, uneven now, as if he had a secret too.
He smoothed a hand along my shoulder. “But honestly… I already knew you’d lost your magic. I’ve known for a month. Suspected for a lot longer than that.”
I froze, certain I’d misheard him.
