Chapter 48

forty-eight

LUKE

Almost as soon as she hits the water, an arctic gust sweeps down from the north. The non-existent humidity from only moments before climbs almost as fast as the temperature is dropping.

The result is painfully cold air.

This no longer feels like the playfulness of the town.

I vault off the tailgate and break into a full sprint. By the time I reach her, the temperature outside has dropped at least twenty to twenty-five degrees, dipping into the upper forties. If I hadn’t lived here my whole life, I wouldn’t think it was possible.

It’s rare. But I know better than to write it off as a missed cold front.

The sun slides behind clouds that weren’t here moments ago, shifting into cold, dreary weather.

The random dog and cat conveniently running by Ella and tripping her so she’d fall into the fountain is something I can write off as the town misbehavior. It’s playful. If this sudden cold front hadn’t swept in, Ella would have just gotten soaked and annoyed.

But the weather feels sinister. Angry.

“Ella? Are you okay?” I’m trying to be brave for her, but the words are coming out practically in a shout. She’s cold, not hard of hearing, but I can’t help the fear pulsing through me. Every puff of breaths hangs in the air.

Is the temperature still dropping?

I wrap my hands around her biceps and haul her out of the water, ignoring the bite of the cold as the water pours off her sweater and onto me.

“Are th-th-the books o-o-okay?”

“Don’t think they can swim,” I answer around gritted teeth.

She’s shivering—how is she so cold?—so I yank off her cardigan. My only thought is to get rid of some of the water so she’s no longer getting soaked. I fumble with my flannel, my fingers shaking either with cold or adrenaline, yanking it off my body to wrap around her. She instantly cacoons herself into it.

“Smells good,” she mumbles as she grips the edges to pull it tighter around her.

I’ve got to get her warm.

My brain can’t wrap around the twenty degree drop in minutes. The forecast called for a sunny, warm, seventy degree day.

“I’ve got a blanket in the truck. Can you make it over there?”

Another violet shiver rips through her. I hook an arm around her shoulders and one beneath her legs, lifting her like she’s air. She wriggles closer to me as I practically run across the square, tucking her face into the space beneath my chin.

“You’re so warm,” she sighs.

I’ve gotten accustomed to holding Ella in some capacity over the last couple of weeks. But this isn’t how I’d like to do this. I tuck her closer to me, partly out of instinct, partly because I know she feels safe here.

That’s all I want.

“Just hold on. Stay awake for me, Ella.”

“B-b-but you’re s-s-so cozy.”

It’s instinct to lay my cheek on the top of her head, her hair soaked and freezing.

“I’m glad, but you’ve gotta stay awake.”

“S-s-spoil sport.”

The second I reach the truck, I wrench the door open and deposit her on the seat long enough to retrieve and wrap her in the thick blanket I keep in the truck for Lucy. Sam will have more blankets in her room. We’re only a couple of blocks from the bed-and-breakfast. Once I’ve wrapped her enough to feel comfortable to drive the short distance, I’m on the way.

In those two blocks, I send voice texts to both Gaby and Sam, letting them know what’s happening. Sam because he’s close, Gaby because I’m going to need a female to help Ella get out of soaking wet clothes.

Sam is waiting at the curb as soon as we pull up, and says nothing when I park half on/half off the curb. The look on his face says everything I’m feeling, minus the romantic parts.

“Let’s go,” I reply, hefting her back into my arms.

Her forehead furrows, and she burrows further into the blanket. “I l-l-like it h-h-here.”

“What happened?” he asks, hot on my heels as I burst through the front door and up the stairs.

“Which room?” I bark out, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Top and all the way down on the left.”

“She fell in the fountain. I don’t know what happened, Sam. There was a cat and a dog?—”

I barge into her room, trying to ignore the way her scent is everywhere here. Vanilla mixed with cinnamon. I don’t want to soak her mattress, so I scope the room and see that Sam is already ahead of me. There are towels layered on the stuffed armchair in front of the fire, so that’s where I set her down.

She’s quiet, but she’s awake, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Do you think it’s a magic thing?” he asks, his voice low. “It’s freezing out there.”

Normally I’d call him Captain Obvious, but I can’t. The problem is that I don’t know. I suspect and it’s unsettling. There’s wood stacked in the fireplace, but my hands are shaking so badly I can’t light the match. I’m cold and wet, but this time I know it’s from the adrenaline.

Wordlessly, Sam bends down and lights the fire while I heave out heavy breaths. I can’t relax though, so I pull the chair close enough to the fireplace that I can see color coming back into her cheeks as I stand watch.

She frowns at me. “Luke, you’re all wet.”

“So are you.”

“You have got to see this—” Gaby comes in holding her phone, but stops short at the sight of the three of us in front of the fire.

Ella tries to turn to see her, but I’ve made it hard for her with the way I’ve cocooned her in blankets. “Hey Gabs.”

She shakes her head, like she’s trying to clear and reset the image. It won’t work. I’ve tried. Ella shivering in that fountain and afterward, her clothes drenched and clinging to her as the temperature continued to drop, isn’t something I can just unsee .

“What happened?”

“I fell in the fountain.” A shiver rips through her. “The books?”

“I’ll talk to Barbara. It’ll be fine.” The books are the least of my concerns. I turn my attention to Gabrielle. “She needs out of those wet clothes. I’m not sure about the protocol for freak cold weather, so let’s just play it safe. No warm or hot water until she gets on dry clothes and sits in front of the fire for a bit.”

“On it.”

I give another glance to Ella and reluctantly follow Sam out of the room. Part of me is afraid to let her out of my sight. He leads me to his private rooms on the other side of the house before he shifts out of his calm demeanor.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” He jabs a finger toward the guest rooms.

“If I knew I would. I’m trying to make sense of it myself.”

“I’ve seen some wild things growing up in this place, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this. It’s usually gentle nudges.”

“I know!” The words burst out of me as new emotions emerge. I’ve never been scared of the magic here.

Annoyed? Yes.

But today was different.

We both know what we don’t want to admit out loud.

I pace back and forth on Sam’s floor, ignoring my own wet clothes. If I hadn’t been there, what could’ve happened to Ella? Did it happen because I was there? If the town senses that there’s something between us, why would it put her in danger?

There are more questions than answers. And none of it makes sense.

“Does she know?”

I freeze, lifting my eyes from the floor to Sam’s. “Know what?”

“How you feel.”

“Sam, I-”

He holds up a hand before I can deny anything. “Look. I know we’ve all teased you a lot about this, but it’s because it’s about flipping time.”

“What?”

“You both deserve to be happy. So, does she know? Or are you hiding behind all the fake relationship stuff?”

My siblings have supernatural abilities to call me out. I’ve gotten great at pretending that I’m fine over the years. But the idea of something happening to Ella, when we just found each other again, is overwhelming me.

Loving her is like breathing—I just do.

I keep thinking we’re moving too fast and at this moment, it’s not fast enough. We have two days until the rehearsal, and three until the wedding. Suddenly the bed-and-breakfast feels too far from the farm.

“How do I keep her safe?” I didn’t even mean to ask it out loud.

“We’ll all work together. This doesn’t need to all fall on you.”

Somehow it makes me feel better, knowing my family will stand up for her. I never doubted it, but hearing him say it out loud eases some of the tension.

My phone dings with an incoming message, and I see a video from Gaby. Someone has posted something on HollowHub, the town’s app. Sam and I crowd the screen, watching as I carry Ella across downtown like a knight in shining armor. This won’t be good.

“I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I really hate technology.” I toss my phone onto his couch and scrub my hands down my face.

“It’ll be good marketing for the farm.”

I groan in response and he just laughs. I’m glad somebody can find some humor in this.