Chapter 4
Adrian
S carlett’s words loop around in my head until they’re all I think about when I walk away from Isabella, one of my sisters, after our morning run.
My younger sisters are my whole world—it’s been that way since I was a teenager. I’ve always loved taking care of them and I will always be their biggest cheerleader.
However, when Scarlett asked me how I was doing yesterday, the only reply that came to me was how my sisters were doing.
I’ve known for a long time that I don’t have the same accomplishments as my sisters, since I haven’t built something for myself from the ground up like they have. Today, though, it’s a fact that’s a lot harder to accept.
I don’t have a wildly successful coffee shop.
I’m not an established author.
I don’t have my own flower shop everyone raves about.
But I do have an impact on people’s lives. Everyone knows they can rely on me, and I’m always stepping up to help, always lending a hand.
But, what about you?
That question haunts me more than I’d like to admit because I know I grew up working hard to build a life and a career I’d be proud of, but I let that fall to the side the second my sisters needed me. And I’d do it all over again.
I open the front door with a smirk.
Geez. My best friend’s cockiness is rubbing on me.
As always, I have the best grade in class.
I can’t wait to show Mom and Dad—they’ve always been my biggest supporters.
When I get home, I quickly notice that our parents are still out, taking care of everyone else, like they always seem to.
I hope I’ll be like them when I grow up.
That people will smile in relief when I enter a room.
That I’ll have an impact on people’s lives. That they’ll know they can rely on me.
I can’t do the work my parents do, yet, but I can help my two little sisters out now. I join Layla at the living room table as she gets settled in, continuing her drawing, sitting next to her with a smile. “Need a little help?” I ask gently. She’s still learning.
Layla smiles and groans. “I don’t understand how you managed to do it perfectly on your first try.”
I laugh. “I guess I’m just the best.”
She shoves my shoulder playfully. “Yes, the best at annoying me.”
Holding back another laugh, I bring her pencils closer to us, settling in to help with her technique. “Come on, my little dreamer. It’s all about practice.”
Layla snorts and I know her older sister has way too much influence on her. She’s certainly not getting that attitude from me.
At just four, she’s pretty good at drawing.
It’s only a little messy around the edges and she’s still learning to add details, but it makes my heart ache when I see how artistic Layla is.
Isabella and I are much more logical and rational, but our little sister is so creative that it’s a breath of fresh air every time I hang out with her.
Plus, she’s a fast learner and it’s fun to watch her grow.
We spend the next fifteen minutes drawing until I notice she’s having a harder time focusing. Isabella groans in annoyance outside and I know Layla has other ideas for how to spend the rest of her night as her eyes spark with a new idea.
Layla rushes to her room, and I walk out the door to find a frustrated Isabella, which is a common sight. Especially since my best friend started coming over. Everything about Jay annoys my sister.
When I see her bike in the driveway, I know why she’s upset. Isa’s been scared of riding a bike without her training wheels. She feels behind compared to everyone her age, which is a feeling that I relate to more than she knows.
Growing up too slowly is often mocked by other kids at school. I hate those people. But I hate seeing my sister sad even more.
“Come on, I’ll help you.”
She snorts. “I don’t need your help, idiot.”
I laugh. While Isabella sounds honest when she insults everyone else, her tone has way too much affection in it when referring to me for me to take it as anything other than an “I love you.”
I grab a hold of the back of her bike, like my dad used to when I learned how to ride one. “Come on, sis. A competition is no fun when it’s too easy.”
The competitive spark in her eyes comes to life, and I know my mission is accomplished. She’s the most competitive of us, after all.
“I’m going to kick your ass at everything when we’re older.”
I chuckle. I’m only two years older than her, but she has a lot more ambitions than I do. She chases after the things she wants. I know it won’t take her long to surpass me.
For the next few hours, until the sun is setting, I help Isabella learn to ride her bike without her training wheels.
It isn’t until she squeals in joy that the pride finally hits.
She throws her bike to the ground as soon as she’s back in the driveway to jump in my arms. It feels like fireworks are exploding in my chest—that’s how good it feels to hug my sister when she’s happy.
I quickly push all those feelings away when a familiar pair of ocean-blue eyes meet mine.
I smile, walking towards my sister. “How’s the new book coming along?”
Layla laughs. “Managing publishing and writing at the same time can be a pain in the ass.”
“I can only imagine.” I chuckle.
Layla seems lost in thought again. She’s always been the dreamer in our family—it can be really tough to get her back into a conversation.
“Do you know how Hazel’s shop is going?” I ask, trying to spark a conversation.
Her head snaps over to mine, like I hoped it would. Layla’s been close to Hazel since she was born. It’s the only time Layla got to be the older sister.
“Are you really asking me that, Adrian?” She giggles. Our sister’s shop is a favorite around here. There’s not a more enchanting spot in Westwood Spring than Hazel’s flower shop. “Don’t you dare worry about her.”
I chuckle as my chest burns. I can’t help myself; I’ll always worry about them.
Layla hugs me, and every thought in my head drifts away.
Even if I’ll never admit it, she gives the best hugs.
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her back when she tries letting go.
Layla has this special ability to make every worry go away.
She can soothe every fear, whether that’s with her words or her hugs.
She untangles herself from me and smiles warmly. “Well, go say good morning to Isa. She’s worried about next month.”
Isabella’s coffee shop is always booming, but during the busy season, it’s a nightmare.
During the last week of July, we have a crazy amount of tourists.
They always go to Isa’s coffee shop, on top of her steady stream of local patrons, which makes it unbearable for my sister to manage all on her own.
I offer my sister help every year, and she always declines, but she’s seemed particularly worried this week, so I head to her shop to make sure she’s okay.
When I enter my sister’s coffee shop, my heart stops beating. I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing too.
There’s a woman I’ve never seen inside, and she’s beautiful. Stunning, really. Her pale green crop top brings out her dark skin, and her chestnut curls are in a messy ponytail.
My sister waves over at me, and I finally suck in a breath, realizing I’d totally zoned out.
Goddamn it, what is wrong with me?
I walk over to her counter with a grin. “Hey, Bella. How’s your morning going?”
My sister’s smile shines just like it always does when I call her Bella —which is why I keep using the nickname.
“Great! Adrian, this is Stella. Stella, this is Adrian. He’s my annoying older brother.”
I usually don’t mind her teasing, but at this moment, heat rises to my cheeks at being described as her “annoying older brother.” The woman, who I’ve now learned is named Stella, smiles shyly at me and . . . I can’t do anything.
Get it together, Adrian.
Shaking my head, I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you. Are you new to town? When did you get here?”
There. Safe topic of conversation.
She turns in my direction as she replies, “I arrived yesterday.”
She slowly shakes my hand, which makes me look into her eyes. Her eyes are the color of a lime—a much brighter green than her shirt. Eyes that are impossible to get lost in because they’re so bright. And there’s a vitality in them that I see so rarely. Life.
Isabella clears her throat, and I pull my hand back, turning to look at my sister.
“A vanilla latte for the new girl,” she says cheerily to Stella. She’s always had the gift to make everyone feel welcome and included. The tension in Stella’s shoulders melts away as she grabs her coffee.
I’ve always been an outgoing person. It’s one of the many traits Isabella and I share. I’m the one that talks to people effortlessly, but right now, my palms are sweaty.
It’s just because she’s a stranger. It’s just nerves.
“So, what brings you here?” I ask, following her as she goes to sit at a table. I feel my sister’s eyes on us, but I try to ignore her.
Stella sighs. “I needed a break, to rest for a little bit and forget about . . . how complicated everything with my career became.”
“Well, our town’s probably the best spot to come to if you need to recharge.”
Why do I sound like I’m advertising our town?
She gives me a small smile. “Yeah, I definitely noticed that this morning.” Her smile grows. “The way you use your magic here is absolutely fascinating.”
I grin. “It’s my favorite thing about our town.”
Her smile turns sad. “I wish I could have added my touch here.”
“Your touch?”
“Yeah, with my magic.”
Time stops moving. This woman has powers? “What can you do?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
“ Could. As in past tense.” She gulps and her voice shakes a little when she continues. “I can’t use my magic anymore.”
Her honesty strikes me, hard. I wish I could say things as directly as her, especially when I’m struggling. But I can’t and have never been able to.
There’s not a feeling I understand more than what she’s going through—what it’s like to be powerless . To see everyone around you do the things you used to do perfectly. To see the life you built be ripped away in less than a second.
“You’ll get them back in no time, Stella,” I say reassuringly.
Her eyes meet mine across the table, and I see more in them than any words she could say. The vulnerability in them hits me hard. When’s the last time I let someone in like she’s doing? So openly?
“How? How could you know?”
Looking into her open eyes, I can’t help the overwhelming urge to help her—no, not urge, need.
But the need to match her vulnerability is even bigger.
“I lost my powers too. I was a little over twenty, and my life was a mess.” I gulp.
I can’t believe I admitted that. Those months were some of the worst of my life and I’m talking about it with a stranger.
Still, I keep going. “I’d been trying to live a life that didn’t make me happy here.
I thought I’d find what I was looking for in the city, but I didn’t.
Eventually, I got burnt out, and lonely.
” I push through the discomfort, which is hard as hell.
“I came back home and tried to reconnect with my sisters.” Stella’s compassionate eyes are on me, understanding so clear on her face.
I stop talking about myself and switch to a more rational topic.
“Despite the fact that everyone here has powers, some of us have lost them at some point. It hits hard, but it can be fixed; I’ve seen it dozens of times. I went through it too.”
I smile over at her, turning to focus back on Stella. She gulps, and my smile widens, knowing I’m not the only one struggling with this conversation.
“How did you do it?” Her shy eyes meet mine.
I sigh. “It’s different for everyone. But burn out is usually the main reason—”
Stella jumps out of her seat. “I’m not burnt out!”
I chuckle, smiling as I reply, “There can be other reasons, Stella. I could help you find yours.”
The storm in her eyes dims, and she sits back down. “You would?”
“Yeah. Most of the town would, honestly. But I’m . . . A lot less busy than most. I have more time on my hands.”
I see her consider my offer, her eyes drifting away. I wait patiently, letting her think it through.
But then, the most breathtaking smile spreads across her face, full of calm and confidence. She holds eye contact with me when she replies, “Thank you for the offer. It means the world to me. But . . . I think this is something I need to figure out on my own.”
For some reason, I stay frozen. I can’t remember the last time someone declined my help. Everyone always asks for it. I haven’t been told no for so long that I think I forgot that word existed.
The door swings shut behind her. I blink. She’s . . . gone?
I should feel rejected. Instead, I just want to see her again. And all I can think about is how much I want to help her find what she’s lost.