Chapter 8

eight

LUKE

I’m stuck in a mess of my making.

Sure. Things with Ella have been shifting, simmering. But the second I saw the proof of the level Charlotte has stooped to, everything erupted to the surface. There’s no containing it. I just have to redirect it.

Ella is naturally like too bright sun on a summer afternoon. The light hurts your eyes, but it creates beauty in the life it nourishes, in the way it shimmers on the water. Today it was like someone smothered her in storm clouds, with only the occasional ray slipping through.

The smart, responsible thing to do would be to back off. She needs space to sort through everything with her stepmother, and the last thing she needs from me is to add to that. I don’t even know how she moves forward from this, especially now that my family knows.

My sisters have been clucking like a bunch of hens ever since I slipped back into the house a bit ago. I’m glad she’s got them to lean on, if she will allow them to. When I held onto her in the field, I half expected her to pull away. She’s not one to share her burdens, and now I have a clearer picture of why.

But she didn’t pull away. I was her life preserver in the storm and I’d gladly do it again.

The only problem—the biggest problem—is the mystery woman I’ve been writing.

I could walk across the hall and grab any one of my sisters and ask for advice, but that would mean coming clean about more than my feelings for Ella. They’d never let me live it down. Honestly though, I’m not even sure they’d believe me.

My distaste for the magical matchmaking in our town isn’t exactly something I keep to myself. I could offer the box of letters tucked under my bed as proof. There are months of back and forth with someone that’s supposed to be my soulmate. Maybe there’s more than one type of soulmate. Is it possible for me to have romantic feelings for one person but simply have a deep connection with someone else?

I scrub a hand down my face.

I sent the first letter in a moment of loneliness so deep I just wanted to see what would happen. Then ShutterBelle wrote back, and I came to look forward to that daily connection. She understands me better than anyone, but it’s probably because it’s easier to show myself in words.

Laying your being bare in front of another person is harder.

Maybe I could get a letter to her somehow and loosely explain the situation. Her letters come to my room, but I always assumed that because it’s where I write them. Maybe they appear wherever you are? I’ve never questioned the intricacies of how the enchantment really works.

What would I even say? Every way I frame it makes me feel gross.

But it’s Ella’s senior year. After this afternoon, I’m more sure than ever that her future here is precarious. At best. I always figured she’d want to run from here as fast as she could just to get away from Charlotte, but this doesn’t just feel like a wild card. It’s that dreaded ‘draw four’ wild card in Uno.

Do I want to sit back and lose the one chance I might have to tell Ella how I feel? It’s not something we need to act on immediately. I respect that there are more important things at play here.

I know I didn’t imagine the mutual chemistry in those quiet moments. It crackled around us like electricity before lightning strikes.

What we need is time and deep down, I know it’s a luxury we don’t have. I wish I’d admitted my feelings about her sooner. Or that I had more time to figure it out. I’ve done everything I can do to ensure that tonight is everything I know she hoped it would be. The only thing missing is me.

I want to be the one that laughs with her, dances with her. Remind her she can be anything she wants to be and praise all the work I know she put in on the decorations. They’ll be amazing because Ella poured her heart into them. She doesn’t do anything halfway.

Despite how I feel about ShutterBelle—something I’m still figuring out—I know how I feel about Ella. The jury is out on whether or not I’m worthy of her.

I definitely should’ve stayed out of all of this.

My mom’s voice reverberates down the hall. “Honey, do you have the camera ready? You took the lens caps off, right?”

“You act like I’ve never taken a picture before, Molly!” my dad calls back.

I chuckle and shake my head. Mom is already a perpetual picture taker, insisting she capture all the memories she can. Or all the memories Dad can, since he’s the one with the camera. It’s probably magnified tonight by the events I set into motion with a quiet request, and my youngest sister’s first time to go to Midnight in the Hollow. Violet will be on cloud nine.

Voices fade and doors slam. It’s now or never.

If I go out there and take Ella to the dance, I can’t take any of it back.

A quick flash in my mind of Ella in our pumpkin field, with freckles on her cheeks and red stained lips, decides for me. I grab the bouquet I bought on my quick run into town and burst into the hallway with the charm of a bull being released from a chute.

Classy, Luke.

I make my way downstairs to find my mother standing by the front door.

“Oh. You just missed her, honey.”

I shift under the sympathetic glance my mom is giving me.

“They’re already gone?”

“They had a ride waiting in the drive.” She watches me carefully, like she used to do when I scraped my knee. She’s waiting to see how I react before she does.

Of course they did.

I wanted her to have the night of her dreams.

“Did it all come together?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat. The disappointment is crushing, but I’ll examine that later.

“She looked like a dream.”

I wonder if I’d be able to recognize her. It’s doubtful since I know what her makeover entailed.

“Good,” I reply.

“She’ll be safe, Luke. We made sure of it.” Mom’s chestnut curls bounce against her shoulders as she brushes imaginary lint off my lapels. “But she could still use a knight in shining armor.”

That’s all I want to be .

“Does she?”

Her eyes lock onto mine, and she pulls me down to her by my tie. “Luke Benjamin Jackson. I didn’t raise you to second guess yourself. You’ve already saved her once tonight. Don’t you want to finish the job?”

“What if the time is wrong?”

“When is the time ever, right?” She asks softly. “If you sit around waiting for things to feel just so , you might be waiting an awfully long time.”

She studies me with that motherly stare she gets, wrinkles she calls laugh lines gathering at the corners of the bright blue eyes I inherited from her. I want to pour everything out to her and beg her to tell me what to do. Apologize for not listening more or taking things more seriously.

“I know,” I reply.

“Then I’m going to leave you with one more thing, and then I want you to go enjoy yourself. All magic comes at a price. We never know what it is until the bill comes due.”

Her advice feels layered and heavy, like she’s talking about more than just tonight.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that time is ticking. There have been a few rules bent and broken around here tonight, so choose wisely.” She squeezes my shoulders and steps out of my way to let me go. “Have a good time tonight, son.”

With a heavy breath, I move past her to grab my cowboy hat off the hook and nod.

“See you later tonight, Mom.” I pause, then hand the bouquet to her. “Put these in water?”

“Of course.”

I’ve heard my parents whisper about how the town sometimes pushes people together despite their best efforts to stay apart. While I don’t have any personal experience, the thought and my mom’s words weigh heavy on me as I head to my truck. I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.

Which is exactly why I stay away from magic.

Tonight wasn’t the best night to bend my own rules, but I guess it’s time to see where it leads me.

What’s more important: being honorable or following your heart? Is there a clear cut way to know? I always scoffed at Ella and Gaby’s book related arguments and now I wish I’d been paying a little more attention.