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“It has character,” Luke says, smiling sheepishly—forcing it, I’d think, but he’s always been the optimistic one.

Luke is several inches taller than Leo, but his presence is soft. He has a kind face, warm eyes, and a tendency to blush head to toe. His dark brown hair is lighter than mine and Leo’s, with the slightest bit of wave.

While Leo and I look like the spitting image of our Mom, he’s all Dad. And maybe that’s where my soft spot for him comes from, or at least why it’s grown especially tender over the last few years.

I step toward the entrance, and a shudder runs up my spine. “C’mon. Let’s go check out our rooms.”

I’m here for my mom, that’s true, but I can’t deny that I’m here for my youngest brother as well. He may be twenty-five years old now, an adult by anyone’s measure, but in my eyes, he’ll always be the kindergartener who came home crying because someone made fun of him. Luke said he was moving to Starbrook with Mom, and I can’t be anywhere without him. Can’t imagine life without him, really.

So, I came along. For both. And maybe for me, another desperate attempt at avoiding the inevitable.

Being alone.

There’s no saying if the change will be good for them, but I have hope for Luke. He was never the type to enjoy living in the city, and while Moonglade Harbor is small compared to some, it’s still a city. Small-town living may be what he needs. Fresh air. Hiking. Whatever else people do in Starbrook.

But I still don’t know what I need, and it’s never really mattered before. To me or anyone else.

I half expect the house to expel us the moment we step inside, but it doesn’t. Something is off about it. Energy. I’m a witch. Witches can feel energy—even though I haven’t felt much of anything in… well, that’s a worry for another day.

The only thing I hear is the soft crack of footsteps against the floor, and my mother gasping about how much she loves the trim. The place is mostly barren, filled with boxes and covered furniture, but I guess I see the appeal.

It’ll be weird living with my family after nearly a decade on my own, but there’s an appeal to that, too, I suppose. We used to be so close. Everything changed after we lost Dad, and I want to get it back. Badly.

I stomp upstairs and poke my head into the first room—clearly our mom’s, with her huge bed in the middle and a bathroom attached. Lucky her. The home is supposed to be a cottage, but I swear her room alone is as big as my entire apartment in Moonglade Harbor.

“You wish that were yours,” Leo says, poking me in the back.

“Duh.” I weave around him and step into the next room. “What counts as a cottage, anyway? This place is massive.”

“Don’t know. Look it up.”

“As helpful as ever.”

My room is half the size of the main bedroom and full of boxes—things I wasn’t ready to let go of. Books my father bought me, my favorite clothes, and my impressive shoe collection. The most beautiful part of the room is the huge bay window that displays miles and miles of trees—pine trees, golden trees, scarlet trees, trees as orange as the sunrise. I’ve never seen so many trees.

“Wow,” I breathe. “Maybe I could get used to this.”

“I’m sure you could.” Leo snorts. “You aren’t stuck in the attic room.”

“Please, you begged for that room.”

“Whatever.”

Leo opens his mouth to respond, but a rattling from downstairs cuts him off. We exchange a look as our mother screams, and we’re both bolting down the stairs, racing one another to reach her.

“Mom!” I call out, following the sound of her yelp into the kitchen.

She’s still upright. Unharmed. Totally fine.

But the cupboards are rattling around her, pots and pants are floating out of a box she must have opened, and poor Luke has himself pressed to a wall as he watches in with wide eyes and shaky inhales.

That’s not what I feel, though. I was waiting for something to go wrong, and of course, it already has. Isn’t that just my luck?

I groan and rub my temples as the kitchen seems to relax—as though it physically exhales, the pots dropping with a clash, the cupboards closing right up. The static-like magic around the room settles into nothing.

“Great.” I plant my hands on my hips. “You moved us into a haunted house. So much for our fresh start.”

It’s hard to believe we can step into something new when this place has such a rich fucking history.