Chapter 22
Valerie
The sun was brilliant. If a burning ball of hydrogen and helium could smile, it was grinning from ear to ear, nearly blinding me with its intensity.
Then again, maybe that was just me.
Grant’s arm was draped across my hip, heavy and possessive in sleep. I shifted closer, almost greedy for more of that morning-after glow. My back fit to the slow rise and fall of his chest, his breath tickling the back of my neck.
We’d sung carols in the driving snow, spectacularly tarnishing the reputation of the seasonal pastime, and ended up here, tangled together. Marriage officially sealed. Twice.
Holy smokes. Stop grinning, you absolute goof.
I bit my lip to flatten the smile and stared at the ceiling. The decorative tiles offered no help. Neither did the man behind me, who tightened his hold as if his subconscious refused to let go. My heart performed a small, traitorous interpretive dance. Fine. It was a twerk and a fist pump.
The sun and my heart were seriously personified this morning. And then my heart went broody.
What happens now?
If this were a tequila sunrise, we were in that fizzing, heady phase, the golden colors swirling around us. But even in my imagination, I could see that umbrella, taste the sweetness of the cherry. This could be something more.
I'd always believed in love at first sight. At first laugh. In all the beautiful moments that followed. I’d seen it spark so many times for other people, certain I'd sprint straight for it when it finally happened to me.
So why was I so afraid now that it had?
Maybe because, for the first time, I understood that love—in all its wonder and wildness—was the scariest thing to lose. People always said it was better to have loved and lost, but those people clearly hadn’t seen the shelves of cold cases in the Agency basement.
My aunt had tried to play it safe, settling for “good enough.” I’d sworn I’d never be like her. But lying here, wrapped in the man I used to call a one-night stand miracle—someone who could walk away when our time was up and take my heart with him—made me realize why she had.
Grant stirred, pressing a lingering kiss to my shoulder. “Morning, Spells.”
I groaned, rolling in his arms. “You know, I used to hate it when you called me that. I’d imagine sticking a Grant-shaped voodoo doll full of pins.”
“I know,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep. “Your eyes would cross every time. It became my mission to use it as often as possible.”
“When you stopped, I missed it.”
He tipped my chin up, brushing his thumb along my jaw. “Worst year of my life.”
“Same.”
For so many reasons.
I’d been hiding things for so long. Secrets I knew and feelings I’d kept denying.
“Can I tell you something?” I asked, the words thick, shame like a pressure at the back of my throat.
“I should hope so. No one can make me testify against you on the witness stand.” He dragged the pad of his thumb down to the hollow of my throat, teasing. “Go ahead. Are there more voodoo doll victims out there? How many ex-husbands do I have to worry about?”
“Ha-ha.” I caught his wrist before he could move it lower. “You’re hilarious.”
“You’re just catching on?” he murmured, turning his captured hand and threading his fingers through my hair instead.
“I’m being serious.”
“Okay, Spells.” His voice dropped, quieter now. “Then so am I.”
My throat went dry. The words scraped out anyway. “I haven’t told anyone this.”
Grant didn’t move. His hand stayed in my hair, fingers curling slightly, a silent I’m listening.
“I—” My voice faltered. How did you tell someone that the thing that defined you had disappeared? Not just anyone, but my boss. Though hopefully, in this moment, just my husband.
I swallowed hard. “I lost my magic. It had been glitching for a while. I exploded a muffin once. A crumb got in my eye, and it got so irritated, I thought I’d have to wear an eye patch.”
I pressed my face into his neck, trying to smother the urge to cry. “Listen to me, joking about the biggest failure in my life.”
His chest rose beneath my cheek. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around me, tracing slow circles against my back. The rhythm was soothing. I was tempted to get lost in it, but I kept going.
“I went to that waterfall last year to try and fix it,” I whispered. “I thought I could wish my curse away. It didn’t work. And I’ve been lying to everyone. Pretending I’m still me.” My voice cracked. “Except I’m not.”
“You’re still you, Spells,” he said quietly. “Magic doesn’t define us. Showing up does. Every day. Every Christmas, when we just want to take a vacation from seasonal depression.”
A laugh trembled out of me, halfway to a sob. “Leave it to you to make a pep talk sound like one of those prescription drug commercials.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into me. “Side effects may include headaches and the urge to eat an entire tin of fudge.”
I smiled against his skin, letting my nerves settle, until his tone shifted, uneven now, as if he had a secret too.
He smoothed a hand along my shoulder. “But honestly… I already knew you’d lost your magic. I’ve known for a month. Suspected for a lot longer than that.”
I froze, certain I’d misheard him.
“You knew?” The words came out startled. “You didn’t—” My throat tightened. “You didn’t turn me in to the Board?”
“No.” He frowned slightly, confusion flickering before understanding dawned.
I pushed back to see his face. “That’s not how the agency works, Grant. We report everything. Agents have to be at their peak or—”
“Or what?” he interrupted. “They’ll take the hardest case in the archives—the one that sent another agent to the hospital—and get closer to solving it than anyone else? Remind me again why you’re not suited for this job. Because you can’t use magic to turn off a light?”
He laid his palm against my heart. “Magic makes things easier. But this—” His thumb brushed once, gently. “—this is what solves cases.”
I stared at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and something close to awe. He wasn’t scolding me. There wasn’t even pity in his eyes. He just understood something I’d never fully acknowledged.
It struck me then how much he deserved to run Snowbelt. He wasn’t the family outcast, taking the place of his cousin and pretending to lead. He was stepping out of the mold. Changing what leadership meant. He’d make the Agency better in a way Matt never would have.
“You’re doing a good job,” I said, resting my hand over his. “Running Snowbelt. Making it different. If no one’s ever told you that… it’s true.”
He just looked at me, the usual light in his eyes dimming to something unguarded.
It was like peering into a mirror and seeing everything you hate about yourself, only to turn and face the one person who sees you best. Who thinks your flaws are beautiful.
I felt the shift before he moved, emotion too strong for him to mask.
Then he kissed me—lowering his mouth to mine as if words had finally failed him. Nothing about this kiss felt safe. It was raw, that wire between us exposed, susceptible to heartbreak.
It would have been so easy to let him pull me back under. After last night, I’d found a new cure for that seasonal depression he’d mentioned. But then we’d spend all day under the covers. Maybe all the way to New Year’s. And we couldn’t shut out the world, even if I wanted to.
I pulled back, resting my forehead against his, both of us breathing the same air. The ache in the back of my throat was back. I swallowed hard and forced a stern look.
“Okay, that’s enough couples therapy before breakfast. We should get extra credit from the resort. A fruit basket wouldn’t go amiss.”
“They should send more than a fruit basket for what I paid,” Grant grumbled.
My stern look morphed into shock. “Wait, you paid for that abysmal beach wedding? With the creepy doves and poor signage?”
Grant sat up, the blanket twisting around his waist. “Of course, I paid for our wedding. Did you think I’d let that bill go to collections? You’ve seen how persistent they are with their letters.”
I scowled, swinging my legs out of bed and grabbing a fleece sweatshirt from the chair. “Maybe so, but you paid to marry a woman covered in mud. Mercifully, there was no photography.”
Grant pulled on a pair of sweatpants, then captured me around the waist, drawing me back against him.
“I would’ve paid extra for that photo, Spells.
Actually, now that you mention it, you owe me for that ceremony.
” He tickled my ribs, and I bent double, laughing as I tried to wriggle free. “I’ll collect my payment in bacon.”