Chapter 2
JAMIE
My brother has started calling my escape from New York a reset.
He’s the one who suggested I escape to Pine Haven, Colorado, and gave me access to his mansion on the ridge he had bought and never used.
The mansion is ridiculous. The walls are made of glass, and the view isn’t like anything I’ve experienced in the world.
I’ve taken countless photos, but my phone doesn’t do it justice.
The bed is bigger than a California king.
Last night, all six-three of me stretched diagonally across the mattress and slept that way.
I’ve already read two thriller books, and I’m bored out of my mind.
I sit up, knowing I’ll be living another day in silence. Some call it bliss, but it’s my personal hell. A man can only stare at a mountain view for so long before it starts seeming like a prison sentence.
What’s officially been told to the public is, I’m taking a much-needed vacation.
The real story is that the board of the sports foundation I created ten years ago received more photos of me leaving parties with countless women whose names I’ve already forgotten.
The board decided I was becoming more of a liability than a role model.
I have a lot of rage about not being able to have a private life.
Since I arrived in Pine Haven, I’ve barely slept. It’s been years since I’ve dreamed. Or fallen in love. But somehow, the mountain air is supposed to heal me? Pfft.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to be bitter again today, but I’m already failing. I just don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to survive seven more weeks of this. November can’t get here fast enough.
I take the cool marble stairs down to the kitchen to make myself a double shot of espresso before the sun rises over the peaks in the distance. The tiny town of Pine Haven sits in the valley down below, tempting me to visit. Maybe I’ll do that today.
After I finish my espresso, I get dressed and head into town to grab some food from the diner. I find a miracle parking space on Main Street and take advantage. As soon as I unbuckle, my phone buzzes, and I answer a FaceTime call from my brother.
“Oh, you finally left the house,” Patterson says before the phone’s even to my face.
“Good morning to you too.”
“You’re living the life,” Patterson tells me.
Behind him, his wife, Kendall, is talking to someone. I think it’s her dad.
“This fucking sucks,” I mutter, glancing around. “Zero out of ten stars. Do not recommend. I hate it.”
“How can you be grumpy in Pine Haven? Seriously? It’s one of the most magical towns in Colorado.”
I carry him out onto the street with me. It’s Labor Day, and the sidewalks are packed.
“I need to try this coffee shop,” I say, panning the camera around. “Antique shop. Wine bar that doesn’t open till four.”
“Keep going. Oh, what’s that purple place on the corner?”
I move the camera to give him a better look. The shop on the end glows soft violet out its front window. Bunched herbs and dried sunflowers hang above the door.
I stop walking. “It’s called Charmed Cauldron. Botanicals. Jewelry. Spells. Readings. Curse breaking.”
Patterson’s eyes go wide. “Oh, go inside right now.”
“Absolutely not.” I flip the camera around and furrow my brows.
“You scared?”
“I’m not paying a stranger to hold my hand and lie to me. That’s what we call a scam.”
“You’ve paid for worse,” he quips. My brother isn’t wrong and takes joy in knowing that. “You know it’s touristy, kitschy bullshit. Go have some fun and get your fortune told. Consider it part of your human experience.”
“Hard no.”
“When did you become so un-fucking-fun?” He shakes his head. “You used to love shit like this. Who knows? Maybe she’ll tell you you’ll find true love.”
I roll my eyes. “You know I’m cursed.”
My brother laughs. “I don’t believe that. However, since you do, maybe you can get this witch to break it?” He smirks.
“Every day, I ask myself why you couldn’t have been the firstborn instead of me,” I say.
A kid blows past me with a candy apple bigger than his fist. The air smells like kettle corn and freshly cut grass from the town square. The violet glow pulls me forward, and Patterson keeps talking to himself because I’ve quit responding to him.
The door says Charmed Cauldron in the same shiny gold on the sign hanging high off the brick two-story building. My fingers tingle as I think about pushing the door open.
“I don’t know if I should enter,” I say.
“You should,” he says.
Through the glass, a woman in a witch hat balances on a ladder, rearranging jars stacked high on the wall.
“Fuck, this is ridiculous,” I whisper.
“And that’s exactly why you’re going to go inside,” Patterson says.
I push through the glass, and the bell dings. I continue to go farther in. It’s warm and glowy inside, like I’ve stepped into one of my dreams.
Crystals hang from the ceiling, throwing random rainbows across the wooden floor.
The air smells like sweet vanilla and earth.
One whole wall is stacked with jars and bundles of herbs hanging from beams above.
The case along the far counter has sparkling necklaces and rings set with stones I couldn’t name.
Behind the counter, under a wide black witch hat, stands a beautiful woman. She finishes what she’s arranging, then turns to me and climbs down the ladder.
“Holy shit,” my brother says, and I end the call, giving her a smile.
“Apologies,” I say. “He has no manners.”
Her brow lifts. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here for a palm reading,” I say, shoving my phone into my pocket, then pointing back to the sign.
She takes her time studying me and isn’t impressed. It makes me smile.
“It’s not my specialty,” she says, moving toward the register and pulling a list of different things she does. It’s a witch menu.
“What are you good at?”
“Coffee cups, tea leaves, curse breaking, and love spells. I can give you a generic palm reading. Or I can give you a detailed cup reading based on your personal life or professional life.”
A blond woman comes from the back, carrying necklaces. She glances at me, then back at the witch.
“Are there rules?” I ask.
She nods. “Very much so. How thick is your skin?”
“Very.”
The blonde coughs beside me.
“Great. I’ll take a cup reading,” I say, pulling my wallet from my back pocket. “Can I add a love spell?” I ask.
“You’ll have to come back for that. Only one service can be done at a time.”
I move to the register.
“One hundred fifty dollars for a basic cup reading and five hundred for in-depth,” she says.
“Wow. That’s … theft.”
“I guarantee my work, Mr. …”
“Call me Jamie,” I say, holding out my hand. She doesn’t take it.
“Would you like to think about it and come back later?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her. “I’ll take the premium one.”
She presses a few buttons, and then I tap my card on the machine.
“You’re tense. I’d like you to drink something before we start.”
Two minutes later, she hands me a cup of tea that smells like flowers.
“Drink,” she says.
“Should I trust you?” I tilt my head, the steam rising from the cup.
“What does your intuition say?”
Yes.
I take several sips, following her past the counter and under a doorway that’s covered with wooden beads. The area grows more intimate when she lights candles around the room. She points me to the seat across from hers, and I sit without question.
“I hope you’re ready for this,” she says, meeting my eyes.
“You have no idea,” I say.