Chapter 6

six

LUKE

Alright, so maybe they’re not actively looking for her.

She keeps staring up at the clouds, looking for things that aren’t really there. It’s what Ella does. Truthfully, it’s a talent. She can pluck a silver lining out of a bucket of storm clouds.

But today she’s a shadow of her usual self. Ella usually has an infectious laugh and joy simply spills out of her and onto the rest of us.

The best she’ll give me as an answer is a raspberry.

“It can’t be that bad.” I gently elbow her. “Didn’t you say this is—and I quote—the event of the season?”

She squeezes her eyes closed, and it’s hard to ignore how cute she looks when her nose crinkles.

“It really is,” she mutters.

Focus, man.

“Come on, Ella. Your decorations are going to be the talk of this town for at least a week or two.”

She finally opens her eyes and faces me. There are layers of emotion in the deep pools of green staring back at me, but the one that stands out the most is sadness .

“How did you know?” she whispers.

I scoff and shake my head. “There was a dramatic decrease in your little read-a-thon’s with Gaby in the last month.”

Not to mention the lights that burned late into the night in her family’s barn. I only had to bargain with two siblings to get out of them what she was up to.

“I hope it was worth it.” Her face falls.

Her tone sends off warning bells in my gut. Her mood feels bigger than just having an unpleasant afternoon or a minor tiff with her stepmother. I’m afraid to say the wrong thing and trigger her flight or fight response, but the way she’s simply sitting here so quietly is making it hard.

At least fight or flight would be a reaction.

“I’m sure it will be. You’re extremely talented.” I prop myself up on my elbows to grab the thermos Mom sent with me. If I can’t say the right words, I’ll ply her with her favorite drink.

She eyes it for a few long beats before she shimmies to a sitting position and takes the thermos I extend to her, a skeptical look painting her pretty face. It’s obvious she doesn’t hear praise enough from people and the anger builds a little more.

They always think I’m not paying attention, but I’ve heard her as she plans and sketches out ideas. She and Gaby will huddle around the kitchen table and occasionally my mom will join them, helping Ella flesh out thoughts that are big and bold. I spend a lot of time observing, and she’s not doing it for the credit, or the attention.

She genuinely wanted to create something magical for everyone tonight. She even booked a photo booth, but I think she wants that to be a surprise.

What can I say? Sometimes they get really loud.

Her shoulders relax as she sips on the pumpkin spice latte my mom made her .

“Your mom gets bonus points for this,” she replied, lifting the thermos in a mock cheers gesture.

“How do you know I didn’t make it?”

“Did you?” she asks, with a raised eyebrow.

I grin. “Don’t think you’d want me to.”

But I’d learn. If it can give her back some of the light that makes her Ella, I’d trudge to town and buy all the ingredients and spend hours making sure it was perfect.

My heart beats faster at the thought, so I turn my attention to the field. I’ve got no business having feelings for my sister’s best friend, but they’ve been there a while. Slowly building and sneaking up on me in the most unexpected places and ways.

Her parents were best friends with mine, and there’s hardly a memory I have growing up that doesn’t involve her in some capacity. Which should make how I feel weird, but it doesn’t. It feels right .

I know how Ella feels about the magic of Enchanted Hollow. And I know how she thinks I feel about it. Sure, I feel like most of the ‘magic’ that goes on around here is a load of manure. Our farm hosts a sizeable portion of the town’s festival, and her parents fell in love here. I’ve heard the story a thousand times.

But honestly, I’d like to know what it’s like to feel that way about someone. I’m not against falling in love. My parents have a marriage that I only hope I’m lucky enough to experience a fraction of. My issue lies with the magic. When Ella is listening to her parents’ love story—any love story—she gets this wistful look on her face. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish she looked at me that way. I just don’t want magic to be part of that.

How do you know what’s real otherwise?

I risk a glance back over at Ella. More often than not, a simple distraction or quiet helps soothe her thoughts. Today it’s more than that. Her hands won’t stay still as she fidgets with the thermos of coffee.

Unfortunately for both of us, I’m going to have to push. Tonight is too important for her. She’s made that clear—though everything about her posture, her sitting in this field—says the opposite.

“It’s only going to be a matter of time before Gaby comes hunting for you herself, you know. We can keep sitting here and you can pretend everything is fine. I’m happy to sit here and look for more dinosaurs in the clouds with you. Or you can tell me what’s wrong and I’ll sit here and listen.”

“You’ve got way more important things to do.” She shakes her head, offering me a half smile. “It’s not that important.”

I want to scream that, of course, it’s important. She is important. There’s an overwhelming urge to reach out and gather her face in my hands so she has to look at me. I want her to see how I feel about her, up close and personal. With the way my emotions are bubbling to the surface like magma, it’s only a matter of time before the words flow out of me, anyway.

She looks like she needs the words.

Instead, I simply say her name. “Ella.”

“Luke.” She deepens her voice to sound a little like Darth Vader, no doubt trying to avert my attention.

It’s not working. In fact, her reference to one of my favorite movies just makes me want to kiss the sad right out of her.

Not here for kissing.

“It’s important,” I reply softly. “Or you wouldn’t be sitting here in our pumpkin patch.”

Maybe I should’ve gone with my first instinct and grabbed one of my sisters. They probably wouldn’t be struggling to get her to talk.

I know I’m not her first choice, but I wish I could be.

“Ella. I promise not to laugh or judge.”

A laugh spills out of her then. Freckles smatter across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, despite the makeup she’s wearing. She’s not like other girls that wear layers of makeup that would hide them away, and I hope she stays that way.

Ella is beautiful without even trying.

“You judge me all the time. I had to start a new book because you hid the last one I was reading.”

I don’t tell her that’s because I read a review that said it didn’t have a happy ending, and I wanted to spare her the tragedy. She’s had enough of that for an entire lifetime, fictional or otherwise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I remember the cookies I brought out and extend them to her. This time, she takes one without hesitation.

Love is just part of living in Enchanted Hollow. We’re known for happily-ever-afters. Before my Gran picked up the mantle, Ella’s parents gathered us up and told us stories—ones that I suspect they heavily embellished. I’m sure all the love stories she and Gaby devour don’t help any of that either. They can’t be realistic depictions of what love actually looks like.

But there’s a realization creeping up on me that I don’t really care for. Ella takes care of everyone else first. So where does that leave her? Who’s poured back into her once she hits empty? She’s had no one but my family since her dad passed away. No constant person to rely on, to remind her of her talents and kindness, or to tell her that things will be okay.

Now that this information is at the forefront of my brain, I want to be that guy for her. It feels almost urgent. I’d told myself for a long time that her life wasn’t that terrible , but I think I was wrong.

She deserves someone that looks at her the way my dad looks at my mom, whether or not anyone is looking. Magical moonlight kisses and dates where we toss coins into the town fountain while we make absurd wishes that probably won’t come true.

It feels young and foolish, but I want to be the one that she comes to when she feels like this. Maybe I’ve been watching too many fantasy movies lately, but I want to slay all her proverbial dragons.

Almost more than I can breathe.

“So.” Her voice is muffled around the last bit of a cookie. “Would you like the long or short version?”

All the versions, Ella. Every single one.

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

She glances over her shoulder like she’s worried someone will overhear. At the same moment, her sweater slips down, exposing bare skin and the strap of her dress. Before I can stop myself, I reach over to slide it back into place, only to realize it’s only attached on one side.

For the first time since we’ve been sitting here, I pay full attention to Ella’s appearance. Her eyes aren’t so red-rimmed anymore, and there’s the slightest smudging of black around her eyelashes. She’s kept her sweater drawn close to her, but now I can see the edges of a torn layer of her dress.

Anger and fear battle as I shove myself to my knees. I’m the oldest of my siblings and the idea of anyone touching my sisters makes me see red. If I add in my feelings about Ella, the urge to protect her is smothering me, like I’m breathing through smoke. I lean forward and act on my earlier impulse to take her face in my hands, as gentle as I can manage with the desperation coursing through my veins.

“Who hurt you, Ella?” I grit out. The urgency and gruffness to my tone is hardly recognizable, but so are the emotions drowning me. “Tell me who put their hands on you.”

“I’m okay, Luke,” she whispers .

“Did she hit you? Are there marks?” I’m earnest in my questions as I watch her face for any kind of confirmation.

“It’s just the dress.” The tears welling in her eyes tell another story.

There’s a choice here: I can fight for her or I can show her what love should look like. It’s not a word I use loosely, but I know that if I were to brush any romantic feelings for Ella aside, love is still there.

Love is more than stories and the songs and the romance.

“If I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry. Just say the word and I’ll back away,” I murmur. It’s all I can manage because the thought of letting go of her in the wake of this new information feels crushing. But because I don’t want her to be uncomfortable, I slightly pull my hands from her cheeks.

“You didn’t.” She shakes her head slowly as she adjusts to meet me almost eye to eye. “This is…good.” Her hands are shaky as she touches my arms, lightly like my skin might burn her.

Maybe it might. The adrenaline hasn’t left me yet, leaving every inch of me feeling like a live wire.

There’s no real magic in this moment except the magic of our own making. Like time is suspended, trapping us in a bubble where she’s safe. I wish I could keep her here.

“I’ve got you.” A heavy sigh of relief escapes as I utter the assurance. I lower my forehead to hers, brushing my thumbs against her cheeks. Her skin is soft to my touch, and I wonder if she feels the same way I do when she’s touching me.

“She told me I’m not allowed to go.” Our faces are so close, her breath whispers against my lips, sweet like the snickerdoodle she just finished. “She—she said some pretty horrible things.”

I swallow against the lump that’s formed in my throat. “They’re not true, Ella. Whatever she said. ”

It’s hard to think beyond the hum under my skin, or the pull between us. It’s like an invisible cord snapping into place, drawing us closer and closer.

“Luke.”

My name is almost a prayer on her lips, so quiet I could’ve imagined it. Heaven help me if she says my name like that again.

“She called me a little orphan farm girl.” Her voice is tiny and breaks on the last couple of words.

There’s no hesitation in the way I draw her into me. One hand tangles in her mass of blonde hair and the other wraps around her back in a fierce embrace. I’m her armor for as long as she needs me, bracing her against the ugliness of the world. If I could, I’d undo every moment this afternoon that made her feel this way. She deserves the entire world if it were mine to give.

She buries her face in my shoulder and a new idea takes root in my mind. I can’t erase her pain, but I can make sure she has the night she’s earned and looked forward to. My whole family will rally to help her—there’s no question there. They’ll need help, though. Time is ticking away.

There’s one person I know can give her the night she truly deserves.

It’ll require bending my stance on magic a little, but that’s love, isn’t it? Putting someone else before yourself.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a farm girl,” I mumble into her hair. “Farm girls are pretty tough. It takes a lot of guts to reach in a nesting box for an egg and pull out a snake.”

This earns me a laugh, the single best sound I’ve ever heard at the moment.

“Sir Hiss was just getting into a predicament,” she replies, pulling away enough to look up at me. “You can’t judge him for snake business. ”

Only Ella would name a rat snake.

“I can when he’s eating eggs.”

“Better than mice.”

“Mice aren’t good for the crops. Or tractors. They tend to chew on important wires.” I give a strand of hair a friendly tug, but I’m not willing to loosen my grasp on her.

“They’re just making sure their families are fed. Or warm.” Her cheeks color.

This woman is maddening sometimes.

“You’ll never convince me that mice aren’t a nuisance.”

“Maybe they’re just trying to find their place in the world,” she offers.

And we’re right back where we were.

She wets her lips, and they should honor the extent to which I’m practicing self-control with a medal.

“You need to finish getting ready for Midnight in the Hollow.”

Her brows draw together. “I don’t have a dress anymore. This was… my backup.”

“Easily solved.”

“She told me I can’t go. I have to live with her until I graduate—I can’t afford to make her angry.”

I suspect her very existence makes Charlotte angry, but I won’t tell Ella that. It’s hard for me to grasp when all Ella does is stay out of her way.

“Haven’t you ever broken the rules before?”

The lines between her eyes deepen. “I don’t like for people to be angry with me.”

“Do you trust me?” I remove my hand from her hair to smooth the wrinkles on her forehead.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Then you’re going.” My hands settle back on her face.

“Are people always so quick to agree to what you ask? ”

She smiles and the way it feels in my hands sends a straight shot of adrenaline to my heart. I’d chase this feeling forever if she’d let me.

“I don’t usually ask,” I answer honestly.

“EL-LA!”

We drop our hands and scoot away from each other as Gaby’s calls get louder.

“I guess I should…” She gestures behind her.

“You definitely should. I heard something about pedicures when I ran inside for your snacks.”

Her head falls back as she laughs, the setting sun casting a halo-like glow around the edges of her hair.

“Maybe you can convince Gaby to give you one.”

“You’re evil,” I dramatically murmur.

“Maybe a little highlighter right here,” she continues, tracing an invisible line along the tops of my cheeks. “It would really bring out your eyes.”

My skin hums where she touched me.

“You go too far, madam.”

But if it would erase the damage her step-mother inflicted on her, I’d sign up for a whole spa day. I stand, then hold out a hand to help her up. It takes everything in me to ignore the spark when we touch again, but I don’t want to let Gaby in on this little secret.

I can hardly absorb what just happened.

“What time are you leaving?”

“You weren’t going?” Disappointment paints her face.

I don’t know how to answer that honestly. I made plans, but my universe feels uprooted at the moment. Like a tornado just whipped through here and left a twisted mess of chaos in its wake.

“Can you just tell me what time?”

“Around eight. ”

“If I don’t see you there—break some rules.”

Ella tips her head as she maintains her distance from me. She’s still close enough that I could yank her to me again, but far enough away that no one would suspect anything. Such a wild turn of events.

“You’re a terrible influence, Luke Jackson.”

“As you wish, Miss Taylor.”

A smile haunts her lips as she watches me. Then she turns and leaves to go find Gaby. Once I can’t see her anymore, I glance down at my watch to see how much time I’ve got.

I know what I want to do.