Page 49 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Sucks to suck, bro

Taylor

My Christmas-time to-do list generally consisted of the following: work, eat way too much, and avoid malls and any other shopping centers—except the grocery store—from Thanksgiving until the new year.

Those items were still very high on my list, but over the last month, one more task had been added: finding Magnolia the perfect gift.

I’d planned to do what any sane person would do around the holidays—shop online.

Unfortunately for me, my dear, sweet sister Adelaide didn’t agree with that plan.

She’d waxed poetic about how Magnolia deserved better than online shopping and you can’t get a feel for the gift through a computer screen, insisting on dragging me out to New Orleans with her to shop.

She wasn’t entirely wrong. Magnolia did deserve better than that, and I’d even been mildly excited to brave the crowds for her.

But after what happened a week ago, I just didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with the Christmas hellscape that was shopping in person.

I hadn’t told Addy why I no longer wanted to go, but no matter the excuse I threw out, her response always landed somewhere along the lines of sucks to suck, bro.

So, I went.

And as expected, I was hating every single second of it.

So far on this little adventure, I’d been run into by at least ten people with no spatial awareness—none of whom had so much as muttered an excuse me or sorry.

My heels had been clipped by overstimulated moms desperately trying to wrangle kids and push strollers, mumbling apologies as they went.

I’d also been cussed out by a man who’d come this close to backing his car into mine.

But that’s what I got for shopping five days before Christmas, I supposed.

It was fine. Completely and totally fine.

Woosah, and all that.

Who was I kidding? We’d only been here an hour, and I was already ready to go.

“This way, TayTay,” Addy sing-songed, looping her arm through mine, the fluffy ball on the end of her sequined Santa hat bouncing with every step.

“Must you call me that in public?” I groaned.

“Must you be so grumpy?” She furrowed her brows, jabbing me in the ribs when I scowled down at her. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? Trouble in paradise?”

“Something like that,” I muttered, shoving my free hand into my jacket pocket.

“Seriously?” she squeaked. “I was joking, but shit, Tay. What happened?”

“Magnolia pressed pause.”

“What? Why? Huh? I don’t get it. I thought things were going well with y’all.”

“They were.”

“Then what happened?”

I exhaled a heavy breath, shaking my head as I gestured for her to lead the way—right into… oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I am not going into Victoria’s Secret with my baby sister. Hell to the fuck no, Adelaide. I really don’t want to pour acid into my eyes or get a lobotomy.”

“Quit being a ninny and come on. I just want jammies and workout clothes.”

I quirked a brow. “Since when did you start working out?”

“I don’t. They’re comfy.” She shrugged. “Now come on, and keep talking.”

I spilled my guts as Addy rifled through an astronomical amount of clothing, watching as she went from nodding in understanding to her cheeks flaming pink with rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with people in that town? Does she have any idea who’s been doing it?”

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”

“And you haven’t heard from her at all over the last few days?”

Another shake of my head.

“Have you reached out?”

“She asked for space. It’s killing me, but I’m trying to do what she asked.”

Addy paused her rummaging and met my gaze, her eyes soft, tinged with the kind of sadness that made me want to sprint away from this conversation. She’d always been able to read me, to see through any mask I put on, and this was no different.

Rounding the table, she wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed. “You’re a good man, Taylor Hallows. She knows that. She’ll come around.”

“I hope you’re right.” I returned her embrace, exhaling a heavy breath. “I really hope you’re right.”

By the time Addy finished her shopping—my arms full of her bags, and none of my own—we were heading back toward the car.

“I’m starving,” she groaned dramatically once she was settled in the passenger seat.

“We were just by a food court, Adelaide,” I deadpanned.

“Yeah, I know. But I still need to go to Mignon Faget to grab something for Mom, so I figured we could grab lunch over that way.”

“What am I, your chauffeur?”

“No?” My eyes narrowed at her innocent tone, her lips twitching as she fought a smile. “Okay, I hadn’t intended for you to be my chauffeur, but it’s not my fault you didn’t find anything at the mall. Maybe you’ll have better luck there?”

With a roll of my eyes and a groan, I pulled up the address for the jewelry store and grumbled, “Doubtful.”

An hour and a half later, we were back in the car, and I didn’t particularly care for the cocky smirk my sister was giving me as she shook my tiny bag from the jewelry store in my face.

“I told you,” she sing-songed.

“Hush.”

I hadn’t expected to find anything for Magnolia at a jewelry store—it was always so cookie-cutter and commercial, and my girl was neither of those things.

But Mignon Faget was different. Their pieces were crafted for locals, for people who loved Louisiana.

A little chunky, a little funky, but artfully made. Unique. Just like Magnolia.

Hell, the whole store screamed Magnolia, and it had been a struggle to settle on just one piece. But when I saw their Sol collection, I was sold.

It wasn’t anything extravagant—just an open, sterling half-sun pendant with a black opal and mystic topaz charm hanging in the center. I didn’t know much about gemstones, but I did know they mattered to Magnolia. So, I did the only thing I could think of—asked the internet.

Did you know black opal was supposed to protect against negative energy?

Yeah, me either.

And after all the negative shit that had been happening lately, I figured it couldn’t hurt.

“You’re just mad that I was right,” Addy chided playfully as she buckled her seatbelt.

“No, I’m annoyed that you’re rubbing it in.”

I couldn’t help but laugh when she stuck her tongue out at me.

“Thank you, Addy. Really.” My fingers tightened around the bag. “I just hope Magnolia gives me the chance to actually give it to her.”

Addy was silent as I backed out of the parking spot, merging into the thick holiday traffic of New Orleans.

“She will,” she said, her voice laced with a confidence I didn’t feel.

But the smile she gave me sparked the tiniest flame of hope in my chest.

Things would be okay.

They had to be.

I wasn’t giving the universe—or any higher being—the option otherwise.

“Ten hours down, two to go,” I mumbled as I sank into my chair at the nurses’ station.

“You got any fun plans for the holidays?” Chelsea asked, tapping away at a patient’s chart.

“Not really. Just looking forward to a few days off. You?”

“Yeah, heading to my parents’ house for Christmas Eve, then just doing the family thing with the kids on Christmas Day. You’re not doing anything with that new girlfriend of yours? Magnolia, right?”

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes and groaned. This was exactly why I didn’t bring up my personal life at work—people in the medical field were nosey. All it took was one person overhearing a conversation, and it spread through the department like wildfire.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “No, we don’t have any plans.”

Chelsea quirked a brow.

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, uncomplicate it, doc.”

She said it so bluntly that my head snapped in her direction, eyes wide enough to pop out of their sockets. “I didn’t complicate it.”

Chelsea huffed, unconvinced, and turned back to her computer, her nails tapping away at the keyboard.

“Chels—” Before I could get her name out, Dr. Fredmont pulled out the chair between us and swiveled toward me.

“Hey, Taylor, can you take bed four for me?”

“Maybe. What is it?”

“It’s one of the MVA patients that came in on the ambulances. They’re stable, but I’ve got my hands full with the other one right now.” The latter part of her statement was dripping with annoyance—which meant that whoever that patient was, they were being a pain in the ass.

“You sure you don’t want to give me the problem child?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Nah, I can handle him. He’s not nearly as scary as he thinks he is.”

“Alright. Yeah, I’ve got a bit before I have to round again, so I can pop in for you.”

“You’re the best. I owe you one.”

“Don’t hurt ‘em, Meg,” I called as she spun around and stood.

“Never. But I think he might need a catheter,” she said with a wink before striding out of the nurses’ station.

I chuckled as I swiveled back toward the computer and logged into the system. “Hey, Chels, can you give me the rundown on the ambulance notes for bed four while this thing loads?”

“Yeah, give me a sec.”

The spinning wheel of death continued to circle as Chelsea tapped away, and by the time she had the patient information pulled up, my screen still hadn’t loaded.

“Okay, let’s see here. Two-car MVA… Looks like Fredmont’s problem patient t-boned the patient in bed four—ouch. Uhh, front and side airbags deployed, unresponsive at the scene, superficial facial laceration—”

Her words fell on deaf ears.

My screen had finally loaded, and the second I saw the last name of my new patient, I was out of my chair, rounding the nurses’ station before I even had time to think.

My heart pounded so loudly in my ears that I barely registered Chelsea calling my name.

It wasn’t until I saw her pacing the hallway that my steps slowed.

“Magnolia?”

She turned at the sound of her name, just briefly, but long enough for me to see the flush in her cheeks, the smears of black running in rivulets from her eyes as she whispered into her phone.