CHAPTER NINE #3
I blink, startled, looking toward the horizon where dark storm clouds now churn over the ocean in bruised shades of grey and violet. Just moments ago the sky had been bright and cloudless.
The wind shifts sharply, whipping my hair across my face.
Elliot releases my wrist slowly and follows my gaze upward. His jaw tightens.
He notices it too.
The storm.
The way the air suddenly feels charged.
Magic. My magic. Which is impossible. I didn’t have magic strong enough to pull the weather and trigger a thunderstorm… did I?
I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders slumping beneath a weight I’m so tired of carrying.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I admit quietly. “Even though I barely know you.”
The confession feels fragile.
“You saved my life,” I continue, my voice rougher now. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me since I got here.” My laugh comes out hollow. “Meanwhile, I’ve done nothing except snap at you every chance I get.”
Elliot’s expression softens, but he doesn’t let me off the hook.
“Then why, Wren?”
The question cracks something open inside me.
Because the truth is ugly.
Because the truth hurts.
I swallow hard against the sudden tightness in my throat, but it only grows worse as the wind rises around us, carrying the scent of rain and saltwater.
“Because…” My voice catches.
I look away from him toward the restless waves crashing harder against the shore.
“Because I gave up on magic a long time ago when it gave up on me.”
The words scrape raw coming out.
“I thought if I ignored it long enough it would disappear.” My fingers curl tightly against my arms. “That if I buried it deep enough, I could become someone else. Someone normal. Someone who didn’t…” I suck in a trembling breath. “Didn’t need it anymore.”
Thunder cracks louder this time, directly overhead. The ocean surges violently.
But Elliot doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t run away or make a joke.
And somehow that makes it worse.
“Admitting it’s out of control means admitting it never really left,” I whisper. “Which means the pain never left either.”
My eyes burn.
I hate that.
Hate how exposed I feel standing here with the storm unraveling around me and him looking at me like he sees every broken piece I’ve spent years trying to hide. But I can’t stop. Now that I’ve started, the words are like a dam ready to burst out of me.
“When my mom got sick,” I say softly, the words barely audible beneath the wind, “I tried everything.”
Elliot goes still.
“Every spell. Every remedy. Every healer anyone recommended. I spent years believing magic was supposed to fix things. That if I just tried harder, learned more, became stronger…” My voice breaks completely. “But it couldn’t save her.”
The admission hollows me out all over again.
Even now. Especially now.
“I hated it after that,” I whisper. “Hated myself for believing in it. So I walked away before it could hurt me again.”
Rain begins to fall in cold, scattered drops against my overheated skin.
“Oh, Wren.”
The way he says my name nearly undoes me entirely. Not pitying or dismissive, just… aching.
Elliot steps closer cautiously, like he’s afraid I might bolt if he moves too fast. One hand rises carefully to tuck windblown strands of hair behind my ear, his knuckles featherlight against my cheek.
“You should never have had to carry that alone,” he murmurs.
Something inside my heart splinters, because no one has ever said that before.
Everyone always talked about moving on, healing, letting go.
No one ever acknowledged how lonely grief was. How exhausting it was pretending you were fine while carrying it everywhere like an anchor chained to your ribs.
His fingers curl gently beneath my chin, tilting my face toward his. Rain beads along his lashes, his dark hair dampening in the storm winds, and despite the thunder shaking the sky apart around us, his gaze stays entirely fixed on me.
Like he isn’t afraid of the storm inside me.
He closes the distance slowly enough for me to stop him.
I don’t.
His mouth brushes mine softly at first, tentative and warm and devastatingly tender. The kiss feels nothing like I expected. There’s no teasing in it now. No smug grin or playful banter.
Just understanding.
My breath hitches as his thumb strokes gently along my jaw. Then his tongue traces the seam of my lips, coaxing rather than demanding, and something deep inside me gives way.
My bag slips from my shoulder unnoticed, the umbrella tumbling sideways into the sand as I clutch at his bare chest instead, needing something solid to hold onto.
Elliot pulls me against him with a quiet groan that vibrates straight through me.
And suddenly I’m kissing him back with everything I’ve spent years trying not to feel—loneliness, grief, relief, want.
The storm intensifies around us, rain sweeping across the beach in silver sheets, waves crashing violently against the shore, but it all fades beneath the warmth of his mouth and the steady way he holds me.
For the first time in years, my magic doesn’t feel angry.
It feels seen.
And somehow, wrapped in Elliot’s arms with the ocean roaring around us, the loneliness I’ve carried for so long finally begins to loosen its grip.