Page 23 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Save a horse

Taylor

“Whatcha got for me, Chels?” I asked, sinking into a chair in the corner of the nurses' station.

“We’ve got a back pain in bed two, a snake bite in trauma one, and a puncture wound in bed four.”

“Do we know what kind of snake it was?”

“Not sure. EMS just got them settled in the room. Britt is taking the report, and Dr. East is in there now, so I think you’re off the hook on that one.”

Swiveling my chair toward the computer, I pulled up the triage notes for the other two patients I needed to see and let out a heavy breath. I was exhausted.

It was midnight by the time the storm passed through our sleepy little town, only the outer bands sweeping across the parish with light wind and rain.

By then, Mags and I were both worn out and ended up dozing on the vinyl benches of her shop.

Well, "sleeping" might be a stretch. Even propped against the wall, my feet dangled off the edge. It didn’t help that Meowfoy’s bright blue eyes seared into mine all night, as if he were just waiting for me to drift off.

A cat. I was a grown-ass man, and I was scared of a damn cat that looked like a giant cotton ball with feet.

By the following morning, the coast was clear to leave our little bubble, but I hadn’t seen or heard from Magnolia since watching her walk up her front porch steps.

By the time I made it back to my parents’ house, my dad had called my mom on the landline and asked her to inform me that Team B would be implemented as soon as the roads cleared.

That brought us to today—two days since the storm started, one since I saw Magnolia, and I was already itching to be in her orbit again.

But as storm cleanup continued outside the hospital doors, patients flooded through them, and it was my job to ensure they could return to their lives as quickly—and safely—as possible.

Rolling my neck, I slid back my chair and stood. “Bed four first?”

After a quick nod from Chelsea, I motioned for her to lead the way to the patient’s room while I repeated their information in my mind.

Bedside manner was crucial in the medical field, and I took pride in it.

I wanted my patients to feel safe and comfortable talking to me, especially after going through something traumatic.

Clyde Jarvis, 45 years old.

Male.

Pronouns: he/him.

Reason for visit: puncture wound to the right hand from handling a fallen fence board while cleaning up his yard.

With a steadying breath, I plastered on as non-exhausted a smile as I could muster and stepped into the room. “Hey, Mr. Jarvis. I hear you’ve got a nasty puncture on your palm. Let’s get you fixed up so you can get out of here. How’d y’all fare during the storm?”

By the time seven a.m. rolled around, I was nearly dead on my feet.

One shift down, two more to go before I got a day off.

Not that it would be much of a day off since I needed to help my parents pick up the yard.

That was where I was heading now, even though everything in me wanted to drive down that gravel drive leading to a bright teal door.

As I put my Bronco in park, I leaned my head against the headrest and closed my eyes for a brief moment, willing the exhaustion to disappear as I prepared for the inevitable onslaught of questions that would undoubtedly be hurled my way as soon as I stepped foot inside.

I’d managed to evade my mom’s prodding the morning after the storm, claiming I needed to sleep so I would be “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed” for work. But Addy was a different story altogether. She was relentless in her inquiries, and there was no way I was escaping her scrutiny two days in a row.

Blowing out a breath, I left my car and headed around back to check on the generators. The house was dark since the power was still out, but it was blissfully cool thanks to the Big Ass Fan we had set up in the French doors off the breakfast nook.

I sighed in relief when I stepped inside and didn’t encounter the ever-present scent of coffee. No coffee meant no Addy… at least not yet.

Grabbing one of the lanterns we kept by the door, I turned it on to the lowest setting and crept through the house like a teenager sneaking back in after curfew. I decided to shower after my sister vacated the premises later that day. I closed my door with a soft click and sagged against it.

“You ready to talk to me now?”

Adelaide’s voice shattered the silence, my heart rate skyrocketing as I swung wide eyes toward her. She lounged across my bed with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Jesus, Addy! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I demanded in a hushed tone.

“No, but it would serve you right for running out into a hurricane and avoiding me afterward.”

Her eyes narrowed as I held her gaze. I couldn’t tell her where I went without mentioning Magnolia. And if I told her about Magnolia, my mom would find out, and then the whole town would know because my mother couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.

Shaking my head, I pushed off the door and crossed the room to my closet. Avoidance. I could manage that as long as I didn’t look too closely at my sister.

“Taylor Michael Hallows,” she screeched, her hands flying to cover her eyes as I pulled my shirt over my head.

“Adelaide Jane Hallows,” I mocked, wadding up my shirt and tossing it into the hamper.

“You’re the one in my room, baby sister.

” Running a hand through my hair, I huffed out an exhausted breath and turned toward her.

“Look, Addy. I’ve been at work for the last twelve hours.

I smell like a hospital, and I’m tired. Can we pick this up another day? Another year? A century?”

“You promised you’d tell me what was going on—”

“When there was something to tell. And right now, there isn’t. So just let it go. Please, for my sanity.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she slipped from my bed and pointed an accusatory finger at me. “I’m watching you, Hallows.”

“Ooo, so scary,” I teased, grabbing her finger and pulling her into a hug.

I hated keeping secrets from my sister. She was one of the best people I knew and one of my best friends.

But this wasn’t just my secret to share.

I could handle her prodding, could deal with the murmurs around town—at least I thought I could.

But Magnolia had been subject to their scrutiny her whole life, and I didn’t want to be the one who added to it. Not again.

Addy sighed against my chest, her arms tightening for a brief moment before she pulled away with a wrinkled nose. “You stink.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Grabbing her shoulders, I spun her toward the door and ushered her out. “Now, out. Shoo. Be gone.”

With the door closed and locked behind her, my brow hit the wood with a soft thud as I heaved out a sigh. Keeping this secret wasn’t going to be easy.

Magnolia

Cleaning up after a hurricane was never a fun task. It was always hot, humid, and inevitably, the power wouldn’t be back on for a few days. Hurricane Melissa turned out to be no different. The house was sweltering, sweat dripping down my spine in little beads, and it was only nine in the morning.

Trudging into the kitchen after a restless night of zero sleep, I groggily mumbled a good morning to my aunt and sister, who sat holding cold glasses of sweet tea to their faces and necks. But as I poured myself into a stool at the island, I couldn’t miss the sly grin on Aunt Evie’s face.

“What?” I asked, bringing the cold pitcher to my forehead and sighing as the cool drops of condensation slid down my nose and cheeks.

“Oh, nothing. Beautiful day today, isn’t it?” The waggle of her brows shot mine into my hairline, my eyes following hers as they drifted toward the bank of windows framing the breakfast nook.

Lungs robbed of air and mind spinning like a top, I nearly dropped the pitcher onto the counter as I watched Taylor swing an ax down onto a large branch that had fallen in the side yard.

Dark wash jeans hugged his legs, covered in wood chips and dirt. His shirt clung to him as if he’d been in a wet t-shirt contest, and those strong forearms glistened in the early morning light. And he was wearing a goddamn baseball cap.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as I watched him bring the ax down on the branch. My eyes zeroed in on the way his gloved hands wrapped around the wood handle, and memories of how those hands felt sliding along my sides, cupping my head, tangling with my hair flooded back—

My core clenched, and I shook myself to cut off that train of thought.

“What’s he doing?” I asked, swinging my head back around toward my snickering family members.

“Looks like he’s chopping up that branch,” Aunt Evie joked, her brows wagging as she took a sip from her glass.

“Quite well, if you ask me,” Maddie added, her head tilting slightly as she kept her gaze trained out the windows. When she turned back toward me, her eyes narrowed as she pointed at my mouth. “You’ve got a little drool, just… there.” Her finger poked my bottom lip, and I recoiled with a scoff.

“Stop that!” I hissed, smacking Maddie on the shoulder and placing the pitcher back on the countertop.

I hadn’t seen Taylor in four days. Hadn’t heard from him either, since cell service was still spotty around town.

And there was no way in hell I was going to let our first encounter after everything that happened at CharCutie be with me dressed in a ratty tank top and shorts that barely covered half my ass.

Slipping off the stool, I took another glance toward the windows and hurried out of the kitchen, my escape trailed by Aunt Evie’s laughter as she yelled, “Have fun!”

I was pretty sure that the column I was leaning against was the only thing keeping me on my feet at this point.