Chapter 6 SPARKS WILL FLY
SPARKS WILL FLY
Lara found me over by the shelter animals, whose fuzzy little faces I was using as a distraction from the strange magical storm that had just kicked up out of nowhere.
There’d certainly been nothing in the forecast about that.
If there had been, Tiff would have said something: she was our resident human barometer, and delighted in telling us all about the plummeting air pressure and the subsequent storms that were about to come rolling in.
No, I thought, as I stroked a kitten with a half-black, half-white face, Lorraine was right.
It was a case of magical feedback, and I knew the source of it: the tension between Noah, Finn and me.
The back-and-forth of it all had created something very real that presently hung over Whisperwind Cove in a soft cape of shimmering magical angst.
There was literal sexual tension in the air.
And I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
A glass of sparkling cider in hand, Lara made a kissy face at a tiny golden puppy before turning an accusatory eye on me.
‘Something magic just happened, didn’t it?
’ she said, jabbing her glass at the starlit sky, at whose edge threads of blue and purple and gold still glimmered like the softest of cobwebs.
Even if she couldn’t quite see it, she knew on some level that it was there.
And Lorraine’s commentary had probably helped.
‘Something connected to the way you and Finn and Noah were all ogling each other just now.’
How was she so drunk, yet so adroit?
‘Finn and Noah weren’t ogling each other,’ I protested, deliberately twisting her words.
Lara folded her arms emphatically.
‘Finn was serenading you. Noah had just finished painting you. We all saw it. They saw it. I don’t think it was a coincidence that a giant magical cloud came wafting in at just that moment.
Not to mention like a thousand whisperwinds.
I could fill a diary with the gossip I heard in the space of thirty seconds. ’
‘I didn’t do anything though!’ I protested, fighting the urge to touch the hummingbird that tingled on my cheek. ‘I was just sitting on the picnic blanket thinking about apricot pie and minding my own business.’
And definitely not thinking about Noah’s dark-eyed gaze or Finn with his half-unbuttoned shirt.
Lara set down her empty glass and swigged from a can that had been sitting unattended. Brave.
‘Sure, babe. I’m just saying that I’m pretty certain you were behind that magical cloud just now. Or you focused it, or whatever. Magical nuance isn’t really my thing. But it was definitely about you.’
She picked up the fluffy puppy, cooing at it. ‘Because it wasn’t about you, cutie, was it?’
Her phone buzzed, and she snuggled the puppy as she texted away. I couldn’t see what she was texting about, but I could see that there was a name at the top of the text thread: Jack.
Jack, hmm? This was notable not because Jack was a particularly distinctive name, but because Lara never put a guy’s real name in her phone.
Her entire contacts list consisted of entries like ‘Biceps Guy’, ‘Wholefoods Pizza Guy’ and ‘Guy with Truck’.
In her mind, there was no point in actually getting to know a guy’s name, because by the time she got there, she was on to the next one anyway.
Although ‘Guy with Truck’ had come in handy whenever we’d needed a large piece of furniture moved.
She glanced up from her rapid-fire texting as a sinewy guy with a lengthy beard and a moustache curled at the ends strolled past.
‘Is that the fireworks guy?’ whispered Lara. Which would be precisely how she’d put him in her phone if he were her type.
The fireworks guy trotted over to a section of the beach that had been carefully roped off.
Whisperwind Cove had very strict fireworks ordinances.
Fireworks Guy was absolutely a pro pyrotechnician, and more than likely a fairly accomplished magician as well.
You had to be to light off explosions in the sky without serious damage.
The magical cloud was now largely forgotten, thanks both to the light breeze in the air and the collective drunkenness level, and the crowd was ready to turn its attention to the fireworks.
Everyone shuffled around on their picnic blankets, jostling to get the best view of the display.
A few pet owners and toddler parents took this as their excuse to take their leave, and one of the shelter volunteers ran around with thunder blankets and earmuffs for any remaining pets.
‘We’re going to have to take these cuties back to the shelter,’ one of the volunteers told Lara, who sadly returned the golden puppy to its hutch.
I gave my kitten one last head scratch and waved goodbye to my new friend. The kitten mewed grumpily as the shelter tech hauled it off in its carrier.
‘I think I’d make a good dog mom, right?’ said Lara thoughtfully. ‘Or maybe you could adopt him, and I could visit. I’d be worried about him needing to use the bathroom while I was at an event. Although there’s probably a service for that.’
Her phone buzzed again, and she was back to texting Jack. Who was Jack?
‘So, are you going to find your favourite Tucker brother to usher in the autumnal days with?’ teased Lara, hitting send and putting her phone away. ‘I mean, after tonight, it’s pretty clear that you can take your pick.’
My painted hummingbird smarted.
‘That’s not what I’m doing,’ I said, perhaps a bit too defensively. ‘They’re family friends. Life-long family friends. They’re … like brothers to me.’
Lara shrieked with laughter. ‘Oh, babe. That old line? When someone says they’re just like a little sister or like a brother, you’re in the danger zone. Love is in the air. Or, in your case, magic.’
I swallowed. All right, so perhaps there was something there. Perhaps this magic-in-the-air thing was one giant whisperwind trying to tell me something.
But how could I even go there? The boys had lost their dad this past year, and the household was still dealing with that. If something happened, then how would that affect my relationship with the other Tucker boy? Or with Rosie, who had always been so sweet and generous with me?
And, worse, what if something subsequently went wrong?
It wasn’t like I was gifted at embarking upon healthy, long-term relationships with good communication and boundaries.
Take Lachlan, for example, who’d run every discussion through a chatbot before sharing his thoughts.
And Julian, who had been utterly obsessed with the Roman Empire to the point that I wished it had fallen earlier.
And oh god, what about Cooper, who had been so determined to lean in to his name that he’d started making wine barrels and had roped me in to helping sell them on Etsy.
‘We’re just friends,’ I reiterated lamely.
Lara wagged her finger at me. ‘Repeat it all you want, but friends is not the vibe I’m seeing here. And not to rain on your parade, but I think things have already changed. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice how they were both staring at you. Hungry eyes. There was a whole eighties song about it.’
‘Oh, I know. I’ve watched Dirty Dancing with you like fifteen times.’
‘This could be your moment. One of them could do the lift with you.’ Lara pretended to make a running leap, but the alcohol was working against her. One of her heels went flying, arcing through the air on a clear collision course with a guy in a skeleton onesie.
As Lara cringed, I snapped my fingers, and a stream of magic helped the shoe manage a neat landing in Skeleton Onesie Guy’s hand.
‘Shoe! I have an errant shoe. Is my Cinderella around?’ called the guy, pulling down his onesie hood to reveal striking cheekbones and dark eyes beneath equally dark lashes.
Lara’s cringe instantly adjusted into a supermodel pose.
The whole cocked-hip thing worked quite well when you were missing a shoe.
‘There you are,’ he said, passing Lara the shoe, which she slid back on, using his arm for balance.
‘You made it!’ exclaimed Lara, as Skeleton Onesie Guy wrapped his arms around her. She glanced between the two of us, as though contemplating an introduction.
‘This is … Jack,’ she said at last.
‘And you’re Molly,’ said Jack, offering a combination handshake-hug.
I raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what was going on here.
I didn’t know Jack, but Jack somehow knew me, which meant that Lara knew him well enough to have mentioned me.
Was Lara, who’d sworn off relationships with the determination of a Catholic priest (although not for the same reasons), actually dating someone?
‘All right if I go watch the fireworks?’ she murmured, although it wasn’t a question, really. She was already floating off over the grass alongside Jack.
Jack, who was in her phone! As his actual name, and not as Skeleton Onesie Guy.
I watched them go, rubbing at my bare upper arms as the evening air started to gather a bite to it.
‘Blanket?’
It was Finn, coming by with said blanket over his arm like a waiter at a fancy restaurant. From his smile, he seemed as tipsy as could be expected based on the Summerween parties of years past. The ones I could remember, anyway.
I let him drape me in the blanket, a cobweb lace one he’d bought from one of the vendor tents, laughing as he used his magic to wrap me like a mummy.
‘I think it’s better as a shawl,’ I said, extricating myself. ‘Like something Morticia might wear.’
I folded the blanket, then looped it over my arms, twirling to show how the cobwebs wafted in the light breeze.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ he said approvingly. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but shook it off. I supposed the whole magical-storm issue was not up for discussion. Unless he was waiting for me to bring it up?
He saved me from my thoughts by asking, ‘So, what are your bets for the fireworks tonight?’
‘Pumpkin, candle … bat?’ I suggested. ‘No, wand. Actually, newt.’
‘I’m going with witch’s hat, spellbook, skull.’
It was a game we played every year: trying to guess what shapes the fireworks were meant to trace in the sky.
Of course, rarely were the fireworks imbued with magic.
Typically, we just got the run-of-the-mill comets and crackles.
Occasionally, though, Mom and Rosie would sneakily nudge a few fireworks this way and that, until they formed something that, to those of us in the know, looked like vaguely magical items. They’d done a spider a few years back, and a cat.
Last year, Rosie, who’d had entirely too much punch, had tried to sculpt the fireworks into a wand, and the result had been …
well, something worthy of the ‘accidentally penis’ hall of fame.
‘Lara doesn’t waste any time,’ said Finn approvingly, with a nod at Lara and Jack. ‘But onesies pose some serious logistical issues, don’t they?’
‘She can tear it off him if she has to,’ I replied with a grin.
‘With nails like those,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘And yours,’ he added, taking one of my hands and regarding it thoughtfully. ‘Your mom is an artist.’
I could feel myself flushing.
Was he going to kiss my hand? And if he did, how would I respond?
As I smiled, my face paint pulled at my skin, and I was suddenly conflicted again.
Noah. Finn. How was I supposed to choose? Was I supposed to choose?
At that moment, the first of the fireworks burst from the beach, whistling, fizzing, then exploding into a crackle of pretty, if non-magical light.
‘Maybe I should do the magic,’ said Finn, who wouldn’t let a little thing like a fireworks permit stand between him and some public exhibitionism.
Finn was one of those guys who could just …
get away with things. He’d grin, let that cheek dimple show, and all would be forgiven.
‘Looks like Mom and Amelia have fallen asleep on the job.’
He pointed to where our moms were reclined on the picnic blanket, side by side, giggling at some joke that it was probably better that we didn’t hear.
I wondered whether it was just alcohol they’d been imbibing, or whether Rosie had busted out her special brownies.
Yep – she was passing them around to the older couples on either side of them.
Overhead, the fireworks whirred and popped, inviting oohs and whoops from the crowd. Squiggles of white and stipples of pink flashed, bursting into constellations shaped like willows and chrysanthemums.
Nothing magical yet.
Although, beside me, Finn was doing his best to pick out shapes in the sky.
‘That’s a guinea pig, right?’
I gave him a playful shove. ‘Absolutely not.’
Then the orange lights resolved into something resembling a wonky …
‘Broom!’ Finn and I shouted at the same time, jumping up and down in delight, arms wrapped around each other.
‘Noah, they did a broom!’ he called, waving madly over my shoulder.
Suddenly awkward, I extricated myself from Finn, turning my attention to the fireworks. Was Noah buying my attempt to pretend I was so invested in the fireworks that I hadn’t even registered Finn’s presence?
‘I just came by to make sure you had a blanket,’ he said, his tone inscrutable. But then Noah was often inscrutable. This was fine. Everything was fine. And not weird at all.
‘I’m going to start making my way back to the Pink House. Headache,’ Noah explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose to emphasize his point. ‘You two carry on.’
‘If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s carrying on,’ shouted Finn, grabbing me and spinning me in a circle as the fireworks scattered in the sky overhead.
But even though I burst into a surprised shriek of joy, I couldn’t help but watch Noah leave … and wonder what it might be like to leave with him.