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She tilted her chin as she stared at a point over my head, lost in thought. “There’s nothing about an earthquake in the legend, but all the same, I’d be interested to see what kind of shape the cave is in this morning.” She came around from behind the counter, grasped my wrists, and flipped my hands over. She traced my palm with the tip of her short rose-gold nail. “You have an extra lifeline that wasn’t here before. Did the power flow through your hands?”
“It did. There was a golden light that shot into the sky, then the clouds opened up. Wes’s light was emerald green, though, and it looked like he held some kind of electrical current.”
Her grip on my fingers tightened. “Wes Latham?”
I swore under my breath. So much for keeping Wes’s name out of it. The last thing I wanted to do was explain to my grandma the events that led up to the light shooting out of my hands. “He was there. In the woods. Hiking.”
She raised one of her sharp eyebrows. “Hiking after midnight?”
“Yes? He’s very outdoorsy. You know that.”
A devious smile lit up her face, and I took a step back, knocking my head against the door jamb again. She pressed her lips together, barely holding in her laugh. Awesome. For reasons that eluded me, my grandma adored Wes. She’d never let this go.
“Anyway.” If I let her get started on Wes, he’d be the only thing she’d want to talk about until I opened. “Even though I set off the rain last night, I haven’t been able to make anything happen today. Also, I’m not sure how much control I’ll have over it, or if that’s my only power. Basically, I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.”
Her expression was positively feral. I didn’t like this one bit. “Maybe you should try whatever you’d been doing just before it rained last night?”
Uh, no. Hard pass. “If by that you mean arguing with Wes, then I’m more than happy to add it to my weekly schedule. Maybe I could pencil in telling him off on Tuesdays.”
“You’re hopeless.” She sighed. “Are you ever going to give that poor boy a break?”
“Nope. And you of all people should know better than to ask me that.”
She muttered something that sounded distinctly like “stubborn Scorpio” under her breath.
“What was that?” I held a hand to my ear. “Did you call me wise and fair for keeping my distance from Wes? Thank you, I agree.”
“Don’t be a smartass.” She smacked my arm. “Now, let’s see if we can figure out how to test the limits of this rain you created last night.”
Wes didn’t come by my shop before close. Not that I’d been on alert, my head snapping toward the entrance every time the bell chimed above my door. That would be ridiculous. But if I had, it would only be because I had multiple things I needed to discuss with him.
At four, I locked the door and went upstairs to change. I spent Sunday nights at my grandma’s up on the high cliffs. It was my happy place. Growing up, the sound of waves crashing against rocks hundreds of feet below me had lulled me to sleep, given me comfort whenever I’d been hurting, and drowned my words when I needed to shout without being heard. A piece of who I’d become would always be tied to the place where I’d been raised.
I tossed my halter dress into my cotton hamper and slipped on jean shorts and a T-shirt and pulled my hair into a high ponytail. It had been way hotter today than it had been all week, and I was looking forward to having the cool ocean air whip across my skin on the ride to the other side of the island. I wrapped up a few of my citrus and sea salt candles, brought them downstairs, and carefully packed them in the front basket of my bike.
I’d taken the six-mile route so many times, I could do it with my eyes closed. Sunday evenings were my time to think. To be alone, with nothing more than the wind and water to keep me company. My thoughts once again drifted to Wes. Only because he hadn’t come by today, when I’d been so sure he would. But he had probably stayed away on purpose. Just to make me sweat.
If he didn’t put in an appearance by the end of the week, I’d have to seek him out. Not just for my spring, but also to go over what happened after the earthquake. He had magic, and regardless of my personal aversion to him, it was something we had to address. I hadn’t been able to access my powers since last night. If we had to deal with the curse, I needed to know if he’d been able to access his, or if he’d even bothered trying.
I leaned my bike against my grandma’s garage, where her Plymouth Road Runner would be stored until after Labor Day. Though she still took it out in the middle of the night at least once a week to keep the battery running.
Gathering up my candles in my arms, I punched the doorbell with my elbow. My grandma’s wife, Ella, answered. They’d been friends for years, quietly pining for each other until the day my grandma won her a stuffed flamingo at the summer solstice festival, and Ella kissed her. They’d been together for the last ten years. Proof that love could be found at any age.
She wiped her hands on the embroidered dishtowel she held and took a couple of candles from me. “You’ve been busy since last week. We’re still burning your last batch.”
“I’ll take those ones back. They aren’t quite right yet.” Last week I’d brought over some sage and eucalyptus scents, but I’d been burning them in my condo for a few days and they barely had an odor. I needed a stronger oil for those before I’d put them online.
“I’m just finishing up the roast. Selene is out back tending to her garden if you want to let her know that dinner is almost ready.”
I walked down the hall, trailing my fingers over the display tables that held vases full of gerbera daisies and peonies. My grandma’s house had been in our family for generations. Some said it was one of the first built on the island. For Scorpio’s lover. There had been updates and additions over the years, but the foundation and gardens out back were original to the property. It gave me a sense of calm to know it stood the test of time. When things I couldn’t control took place in my life, I still had this house and these roots. Stability was what grounded me.
The walls were painted the same color as the sea during the peak of summer, bright and inviting. Pictures of me at various ages lined the walls and ceramic Garfield figurines crowded the cherrywood tables. My grandma was the one who’d taught me to love memories. The Scorpio in me had learned to hoard them away for safekeeping.
She had a few pictures of me and Wes in high school, him giving me that cocky grin and me looking like a lovesick teenager. I used to put him on such a high pedestal. No wonder he’d been so far out of my reach. She’d never had any pictures of me and Seth in the house, even when we were dating. She called him Pit Stop for years until I told her to knock it off.
She also kept the picture of me in front of my dorm. A familiar feeling of regret rose up in me. She and Ella had been so proud. I tried to make college work, more for their benefit than mine, but I just couldn’t fake it past the first year.
There were several pictures of my parents. I’d grown up with their faces and stories, but I had no connection to them outside of what other people told me. I should’ve loved them. By all accounts, they were wonderful people and doting parents. I was lucky to have them, even briefly. That’s what everyone said. Every year, I’d visit their empty graves with my grandma and try to feel sad, but the only thing I’d end up feeling sad about was how I felt nothing at all.
