Page 2 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

Skye

“You first.” Morgan motioned me forward from where she stared cautiously down a set of concrete stairs, a solid beat filtering up to meet us from below.

I got it. The new girl never wanted to be the first to enter a room full of strangers, and Morgan knew exactly zero people in this town.

Coming to my brother’s house with her in tow was not part of my plan, but Morgan being Tyler’s new neighbor meant he had a special interest in who she was. Or what she was or wasn’t, rather.

I didn’t waste time, keen to see Tyler for the first time since my move back to Cutters Cove three weeks prior. Between unpacking and the casual shifts I had picked up at the local cafe, it just hadn’t happened.

With each footfall, the hair on my arms lifted, an unexpected shiver climbing my spine as I descended the stairs. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hesitant to see everyone again after many years. Especially since...

I shook my head, pushing the thought from my mind.

Deep breaths.

I forced myself to calm. They didn’t know. And they wouldn’t unless I told them.

As I hit the bottom step, the feeling became stronger. I pulled my denim jacket tighter around me, trying to dim the unease in the pit of my stomach.

Ignoring it, I forced a smile, my chest releasing as I sighted Tyler inspecting the grill outside. I closed the distance between us swiftly, hugging him from behind.

“Hey big brother, thought fixing the grill would be your jam,” I said, giving him a knowing look.

Tyler turned to me, his dark hair and steel gaze reminding me of my father’s, a flash of annoyance creasing his forehead. I bet it had something to do with the gas bottle perched on his thigh.

“Hey sis, long time no see.” He landed a peck on my cheek, his frown lines dissolving.

Tyler and I were born with the same gift in our bloodline: the element of fire lingered in our veins. I knew he could easily light the grill with his thermo magic, but give the guy something that needed fixing and he would happily head to the garage.

We had always been close, and he had made the effort to keep in touch through my years away, even coming to visit a few times, while mine back home had been nonexistent.

He motioned to my now-brown hair, a brow arched high. “No more blonde?”

I laughed, tugging at a strand, remembering my 'blondes had more fun' stage. “Yeah, thought it was time for a change.”

He gave a low chuckle, his mouth pulling into a tight smile. “Suits you.” He adjusted the gas bottle on his thigh. “Sorry, let me get this sorted and I’ll be back.” He left, heading inside, no doubt to the garage.

I rubbed my arms as an evening breeze whipped through the backyard. I rarely felt the cold, but tonight I wore my favorite cropped tee, and it seemed even my fire element was not enough to warm my exposed midriff.

I scanned the room of people, spotting a familiar face.

Scarlet, my best friend. She walked toward me, having come straight from the apothecary she owned, her black knit dress hugging curves I could only dream of having.

She was the local herbal witch, and with dark brown hair tinged a shade of red, a black choker chain around her neck, and subtle eyeliner, I had to admit she looked the part.

When I messaged her about returning to Cutters Cove, she instantly asked me to move in with her, so I did.

“Hey.” She nudged me playfully in the ribs, a large smile creasing the corners of her hazel eyes.

“Hey yourself. How was work? Any more humans thinking your special brews will fix their hemorrhoids?” I joked.

She leaned against the doorframe, a light laugh lifting her shoulders. “Today it was warts,” she said dryly.

I shook my head, my face contorting in disgust. “So gross.”

Scar’s attention turned to Morgan, watching as she spoke to Tyler at the bottom of the stairwell. “I just spoke to the new girl,” she said.

I followed her line of sight before quickly turning away so as not to make it obvious we were talking about her. “That’s Morgan, Tyler’s new neighbor. She seems really nice,” I mused.

Although I had only just met Morgan, the few times I’d spoken with her had felt natural.

Friendly even. But I also knew not to take anyone at face value, because I was privy to the supernatural that walked unbeknownst to the humans in Cutters Cove daily.

Witches, vampires, and wolves were my everyday normal.

Hence Tyler’s interest in his new neighbor.

Morgan’s beauty had not gone unnoticed in the room, and I eyed a guy with a cap on, stealing a glance in her direction. Her dark brown eyes matched her hair, with a natural beauty about her that didn’t need an ounce of makeup. My bet was she didn’t see it that way.

Scar’s middle finger grazed over her thumbnail. “She seems legit, but I guess Wes will find out for sure.”

Of course. Wesley’s sensor gift.

There were many things Scar had filled me in on over the years, one thing holding my curiosity the most. Namely that Wesley, my childhood best friend, had become quite the ladies' man of late. I couldn’t see it, myself.

I had known him as the humble boy next door who was my brother’s best friend, and I could not imagine him any other way.

At that moment, my attention moved to the two guys sparring in the middle of the room, both good-looking in their own way. One, heavier built than the other, landed on the ground with a thump after having backwards-cap guy kick his feet out from beneath him.

I studied the blond guy on the ground, the bulkier of the two.

Holy crap, was that Colton?

The room erupted in both energy and laughter, high fives and middle fingers flying. I smiled at the testosterone edging their competitive sides.

I eyed the guys closely. “Where is Wesley anyway?” My gaze flicked from one person to the next, not seeing anyone familiar. “I haven’t seen him in...” I stopped short, unable to finish my sentence. I instinctively folded my arms around myself.

Scar gave me a sympathetic look, because she and Tyler were the only ones that knew why I really left Cutters Cove all those years ago.

She wrapped a hand around my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before her sparkled with mischief. “You’re in for a treat where Wes is concerned.”

A deep voice suddenly drew my attention, Colton’s voice lifting above the others. “Ty, get out there. Last time I looked, you were getting rusty.”

A laugh boomed from the corner of the room in response, and I followed the voice to a guy I hadn’t noticed before. Behind a makeshift bar, he had his back to me.

He turned, casually scanning the room.

My stomach hollowed. A tremor of emotion lodged in my throat.

When his eyes found mine, an emerald avalanche crashed over me, my chest constricting tightly, my fingertips suddenly numb. I pressed my thumb against each one, attempting to force feeling back into them, but it was no use.

Familiar green irises stared back at me, so intensely I grabbed at the door frame to keep me upright, frightened my knees would buckle if I let go.

My internal dialogue screamed at me. Holy fucking fucks. Wesley.

Knowing I would see him was one thing. But actually seeing him pulled uncomfortable feelings to the surface. Ones I suddenly wasn’t ready to face.

I retreated backwards as if my footsteps could yank me from reality, but with every step I took away from him, he closed the gap between us with his own.

Like a tether I could not break.

A magnet I could not repel.

My attention sprang to Scar, who darted a look between the two of us.

The green avalanche spoke. “Skye?”

Shock pinned me in place, its grip on me relentless.

As he approached even closer, my stomach flipped over. I was convinced I would throw up. Pass out even.

“Hey,” I stammered, barely a whisper.

I turned to Scar for help, but she backed away, giving us space.

When I turned my attention to Wesley again, his stare deepened, haunted eyes quickly disguised by something else.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “What, you don’t recognize me now I’m all grown up?”

Of course I recognized him. How could I not?

My gaze flew over him, both horror and heat settling inside me, curling my stomach into a hot mess. I was staring at Wesley, my childhood friend who I’d grown up with making huts, exploring caves, and riding our bikes around until the streetlights turned on.

His words suddenly registered.

Grown up was putting it lightly.

Wesley was dreamboat hot in every sense of the term.

Thick, dark hair fell onto his forehead like midnight had settled on his scalp. His green eyes glistened above high cheekbones, which carved chiseled angles into his stubble-free face.

I swallowed deeply.

“You’re back,” he said.

The dismissal in his tone made my heart ache. I owed him answers. But I couldn’t, not right now.

“Yeah, surprise,” I said meekly, wishing I could fix this. Make this less awkward.

His nostrils flared. “A phone call would have been nice.”

Wow. Okay.

This was not the Wesley I remembered. The stranger in front of me was all sharp edges and quipped tongue. A far cry from the boy I used to know.

I struggled to form a sentence, not knowing where to begin or how to approach what needed to be said. When I didn't answer him, his gaze drifted inside momentarily before opting to speak again.

“Age looks good on you,” he said, all swagger and confidence, like changing the subject from what needed to be said and what he just did wasn’t important.

Like me leaving was nothing .

This was what Scar had warned me about. The new Wesley.

He leaned casually against the post attached to the second level of the house, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze lazily travelled the length of me in a way I wasn’t used to.

Not from him, anyway.

Wow, what a dick. I didn’t like this new version of him.

Not at all.