Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nevan
With two fingers, I press over my nose and try to breathe through it anyway.
Nothing.
Because that’s how noses work, which means I’m awake. I needed to confirm it right now, because Ridge Wells and Paul Bennett are in my fucking garden, and that warrants a reality check.
Ridge glances up at me from where he’s stopped his wheelchair at the edge of the stone path, one hand loose on the wheel, the other holding a lollipop.
“There are less humiliating reality checks.”
“What?”
“The breathing thing.”
“Yeah, well.” I drop my hand. “The book said this one’s reliable. That wrong?”
“No.” Ridge scoffs. “It just looks fucking stupid.”
Thanks, I guess.
“Ridge,” Paul warns.
“What?” Ridge lifts his brows innocently. “I’m bonding with him.”
“You’re antagonizing him.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
Paul exhales through his nose like a man reconsidering every life choice that led him here.
“Listen, if the baby boy—”
“For the last fucking time, leave him alone.” Paul steps slightly in front of me as if to shield me from the man in the wheelchair.
It’s objectively ridiculous.
I’m six feet seven and haul logs around for a living. But still, every survival instinct in my body goes, Yeah, no, Ridge could definitely kick my ass.
Ridge opens his mouth.
“No,” Paul cuts him off before he can speak.
“Nevan works two jobs. He takes care of everyone around him before himself. He shows up for people even when he’s exhausted, even when nobody’s doing the same for him.
He’s kind without making a performance out of it.
Lennon trusts him, which makes me trust him, and so should you.
So stop treating him like something to pick apart every time you’re bored. ”
Silence.
Even the birds seem a little taken aback and go suspiciously quiet.
I stare at the side of Paul’s head with what is probably not a normal expression because I have no idea what to do with any of what came out of his mouth.
Ridge shifts slightly in his chair, jaw ticking once. I am genuinely surprised he has the decency to look a little sheepish.
He sighs dramatically. “Sorry.”
The apology lands with all the grace of someone reluctantly returning stolen property, but still.
I shrug. “It’s fine.”
When Paul finally looks at me, his expression softens almost imperceptibly. Then he gives one small nod, as if that settles it, as if he didn’t just verbally tuck me into bed in front of witnesses.
Lennon is the only person who’s ever defended me like that out loud.
I think my mouth is hanging open a little.
“Careful with that one.” Ridge drags my attention back to him. He gestures toward Paul with the lollipop. “He’s insidious.”
“Why?”
“He’ll brainwash you into developing self-esteem.” Ridge pops the lollipop back into his mouth thoughtfully. “Very dangerous stuff.”
The door clicks, and I turn in time to see Jasper come through the garden gate sideways under the weight of approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of witchcraft.
A canvas tote on each shoulder, something bundled under one arm, what looks like a rolled blanket under the other, and a backpack that is visibly straining.
What in tarnation?
He drops everything onto the grass with a heavy thud and immediately crouches down, unpacking like we’re about to perform an exorcism behind the inn.
Crystals.
So many fucking crystals.
Then a silk-wrapped stack of tarot cards.
Then another crystal.
Then a folded piece of paper covered in Jasper’s handwriting, which somehow always looks both elegant and mildly cursed at the same time.
Then a jar of dried herbs.
Then, yep.
Another crystal.
Ridge is staring at the pile with his eyebrows somewhere near his hairline. “How many of those do you have?”
“Enough,” Jasper says without looking up.
“For what?”
My brother unwraps the tarot cards carefully. “That depends on how bad this gets.”
“Cool,” Ridge says. “Love that answer. Very reassuring. Exactly what you want to hear before a séance.”
“It’s not a séance.”
“You sure about that?”
“I didn’t know the exact energetic configuration until this morning.” Jasper shrugs. “So I brought options.”
Ridge is about to open his mouth, but gets cut off by another of Paul’s, “Don’t.”
He closes his mouth, but not without being visibly offended by the censorship.
“Looks like Lenny has a lot on her hands,” Jasper mutters, mostly to the ground, but I catch the dry edge of it.
He pulls a small velvet pouch from one of the bags and sets it down separately from the rest, then he finally looks up at us.
His gaze moves from me to Ridge to Paul.
“Wait.” His forehead creases. “You’re all awake?”
I frown. “Yes?”
Because he told us to come here.
Didn’t he?
“You said…”
“I said I needed all of your information.” Jasper stands. “I needed to know what each of you knows. I did not need all three of you physically standing here at the same time like the world’s saddest boy group.” His eyes narrow. “You left her alone?”
“One of the nurses is with her.” Paul sounds almost defensive.
Jasper gives him the one look that means he is being very patient with you.
I know this look better than anyone alive.
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I didn’t mean her body.”
Oh.
“Nev told me everything about her being stuck. One of you could be there right now. With her. In there.” He gestures sharply toward absolutely nowhere. “And instead, you’re all here.”
“I can’t,” I say quickly. “I still haven’t been able to go luci—”
“I know,” Jasper cuts me off, his gaze flicking between Ridge and Paul. “But they can.”
Paul’s jaw tightens slightly, but Ridge’s expression loses some of its bite.
“She’s probably losing her mind a little right now.” Jasper sighs, already looking back down at the chart. “Which, to be fair, is what I’d be doing. I lose my mind in IKEA, and that place at least has signage.”
“Fuck.” Ridge’s already turning his chair. “Okay. I’m going to…”
“You’re going nowhere.” Jasper holds up one hand, and weirdly, Ridge stops.
“She can be alone for ten more minutes if she already has been. We figure this out first, all of us, right now, and from this point, one of you is with her. Always. I am not becoming the emotional support person when she wakes up halfway feral because nobody was there.”
Ridge exhales through his nose. “Yeah. Fine.”
Paul nods once.
“Okay,” I agree, a little stunned. Because somehow my eighteen-year-old brother just bullied two grown men into submission using nothing but crystals and disappointment.
I’m weirdly proud of him.
Jasper appears satisfied with our answers and crouches back down, picks up the velvet pouch, and starts opening it.
Ridge watches him for a moment, then leans slightly toward Paul and mutters quietly around the lollipop, “I like him. He’s terrifying.”
Jasper, without looking up, says flatly, “Thank you.”
Then he opens his laptop beside them, pulls up something that looks like a chart, circular, full of symbols, with lines running across it at angles.
“I need your date of birth, time, and place.”
“Time and place? Who the fuck knows that?” Ridge asks, turning to Paul, who gives him a look.
“Everyone.”
“Well, nobody told me there’d be homework.”
“Find it out,” Jasper demands, already looking back down at the chart. “Otherwise, this entire thing is useless.”
Ridge stares at him for a long moment, then sighs like the weight of existence has personally inconvenienced him and pulls out his phone.
“This better unlock the secrets of the universe,” he mutters while dialing, then he puts the phone on speaker. It rings twice.
“Ridge, honey.” A warm female voice answers. “Is everything all right? You never call me. Are you eating, baby?”
The tips of his ears go pink so fast it almost looks fake.
Oh, this is incredible.
“I’m fine, Mom. I just need to know…”
“Are you leaving your apartment enough? You sound pale.”
“How the fuck do I sound pale?”
“Ridge.”
“Sorry. How do I sound pale?”
“I’m your mother. I know when you sound pale.”
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I almost taste blood.
Ridge closes his eyes briefly, like he’s trying to leave his body. “Mom.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Mom, I need to know my birth time. And place.”
“Oh,” his mother says brightly. “Are you dating one of those astrology girls?”
Paul makes a strangled noise beside me.
Ridge’s eyes snap open. “No.”
“You know I support you no matter what, honey.”
“It’s not—”
“They’re all a little intense, though. Pretty. But intense.”
“Mom.”
“I saw one online who said Mercury retrograde gave her digestive issues.”
“Mom.”
“And you’re vulnerable to cults.”
“I am absolutely not vulnerable to cults.”
“You bought a haunted doll on eBay.”
“That was research.”
“Sure it was. You know I’d love it if you met someone. Someone kind who takes care of you a little. I don’t ask for much.”
Ridge drops his hand over his entire face.
“Mom. Please. Birth time and place. Yes or no?”
“Oh, of course. Portland. Four forty-four in the morning. You were very late, which I should have known meant something because you have been—”
“Thank you. Love you. Bye,” he mutters quickly, then hangs up.
I have to cough into my fist to smother the laugh trying to climb out of me, but when I look at Jasper, every bit of amusement drains right back out again.
He’s gone completely rigid, blue eyes wide.
“Four forty-four,” Paul says slowly, frowning at Ridge. “I was born at four forty-four too.”
“Holy fucking shit,” Jasper breathes out, but he doesn’t look scared. He looks delighted. “It’s not just fate, it is fate.” His eyes snap to mine, and he grins, a huge, triumphant grin. “I was right. I’m getting good at this.”
“Right about what?” Ridge asks carefully. Then, to me, quieter, “Why does the astrology toddler look like he’s about to ascend?”
“Lennon was born at four forty-four,” I explain what I just realized myself. “So was I.”
His eyes widen slowly. “Okay, that feels… statistically aggressive.”
“Is that normal?” Paul asks.
“Absolutely not,” Jasper says immediately, still grinning like crazy. “But it is an angel number.”
Ridge stares at him. “A fucking what?”