Page 22 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

Skye

Dropping my bag on the kitchen counter, I eyed Scar’s round ass poking out from the fridge.

I would kill for curves that turned heads like hers.

She had a confidence about her I envied, not having a lot of it myself.

Pretty sure my mouth made up for my lack of self-assurance, or so I liked to think.

“You better produce something strong from there,” I muttered, settling on a bar stool and dropping my head into my hands.

Scar’s dark auburn hair whipped around as she turned to face me, a bottle of something I didn’t recognize in her hand. Her nose crinkled in that way it did when she was concerned, her brows drawn into a firm line.

“Spill,” she said, placing the bottle of bad news on the countertop between us. Her hazel gaze focused on mine, and I got the uncomfortable feeling I had already said too much.

Shit.

I eyed the liquor goading me. After the afternoon I’d just had, it seemed like a good option.

In one day, I had gotten a tattoo, felt the mate bond, and found out Morgan was a witch.

The entire afternoon had left me feeling shattered.

After learning Morgan’s grandmother had set a spell on her at birth to conceal her magic, I wondered what else Morgan should be worried about.

Namely, what would happen when her magic finally came to her?

I couldn’t imagine being in that situation myself.

Wesley had used his sensor magic on her to help piece the mystery together, something I had never witnessed before, and if I was honest, it scared me.

When Morgan’s eyes had turned milky white under his touch, I freaked out on the inside, trying not to show my discomfort. If it had been anyone else but him, I would have run a mile in the opposite direction.

But it was Wes.

His name alone felt like a branding. A blazing hot stamp on my heart.

In the fleeting moment I finally got to feel the bond between us, he had imprinted on my soul.

It was the most intimate, real thing I had ever felt.

I hated myself for having doubted him, for questioning his intentions.

But now I knew, and there was no way in hell I could deny our connection any longer.

“Skye…” Scar’s voice broke my thoughts, pushing reality back on me.

I huffed a breath of air between us, pushing my hands up my cheeks.

“What is it?”

I straightened, staring at my best friend.

I loved that I always knew where I stood with her.

She was straight to the point and wore her heart on her sleeve.

She seemed to 'know all the gossip' in town, but I believed she had good intentions.

She thought everyone deserved to know the truth, and I liked that about her.

“How much do you know about ghosts?” I asked.

Scar stared at me like I was delusional. “And you’re asking me why?” She raised a perfectly-manicured brow. “I would think you were the expert in that department.”

I sighed, crossing my arms. “You would think so.”

Her nails, dark as midnight, snapped as she mindlessly flicked each one. “So, what gives?”

Could I trust her enough to tell her everything? “Have you ever heard of a ghost not moving on from their fated mate?”

Scar’s brows flung to the ceiling. “What? No, never.” Her stare narrowed, buzzing with questions. “Are you seeing your mate… as a ghost ?”

I pursed my lips together before answering. “Possibly.”

“Holy shit,” she whispered, shaking her head. She undid the lid of the alcohol, quickly producing two shot glasses from a nearby cupboard. “Tell me everything.”

There stood my problem. I wasn’t sure I could.

At my silence, she pushed a shot glass full of the amber liquor toward me. I picked up the glass, eyeing its contents. “What even is this?”

“At this point, I don’t think you should care.” She lifted hers to her lips, tipping her head back, emptying her glass. Wiping her thumb over her bottom lip, she stared at me expectantly.

I did the same, grimacing as the liquor burned its way down my throat. “It’s… complicated.”

It wasn’t a lie. Just a truth bent to an appropriate level of a 'need to know' basis.

Scar nodded. “Obviously. How does this ghost-mate thing work?”

“It doesn’t.”

She gave me a look that screamed a sarcastic 'no shit'.

I pushed my shot glass away. “Please don’t tell anyone. This has to stay between us.”

“Pinky promise.” She held up her little finger, and I curled my own around hers.

“So, what’s the deal? Tell me everything,” she gushed.

I pulled in a deep breath. “Well… the ghost literally just shows up.”

“Okay. I hate to point out the obvious here, but he’s dead.”

“I know,” I said, letting out an exasperated breath. “How do I fix this? How do I get him to move on?”

Scar held my gaze, pushing up from her elbows, a lone finger tapping against the countertop. “I heard this one thing… but it might be a bit of a push achieving it.”

I eyed her curiously. “At this point, I’m all ears.”

“My mom used to hear her piano being played in the middle of the night, the same song my grandmother would play to her when she was a child.”

A chill spread over my arms. This was my kind of story. “And?” I pushed, eager to hear the rest.

“When she went to investigate, there was no one in the room, and she believed it was my grandmother unable to pass over. Mom told me she placed her death notice on the mirror by the piano. I guess between no reflection in the mirror and seeing the notice, it was enough to help her accept her death and move on. Only…”

I looked at her skeptically, knowing it couldn’t be that easy. “Say it. There’s always a but.”

Scar tucked her hair behind her ears. “Well, I don’t know how you find the death notice of a ghost you know nothing about. I mean, this spirit could have died decades ago.”

I took a moment to register her words, hope suddenly filling my veins like a drug.

It was a dangerous thing, hope. It had the power to both crush you just as easily as it did consume you in the blink of an eye.

Only I couldn’t help but think that this idea wasn’t as farfetched as she thought.

I knew exactly who my ghost was. And my bet was, his death notice wasn’t hard to find either.

“I think it could work,” I said without a second thought.

Scar’s head dipped to one side, scrutinizing me. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” she said lowly.

I kept my poker face. I had not meant to say that out loud.

My mouth moved, but I couldn’t bring myself to form words, frightened to say the wrong thing again.

Her suspicious tone dragged out my name slowly. “Skye…”

Fucking hell.

“You can’t tell anyone. Not even Reid,” I blurted out.

Her forehead crumpled. “Why would I tell Reid?”

“Oh, come on, I’m not blind. I see the way you look at him.”

Scar pointed a finger in my direction. “He’s a friend. Nothing more.”

I held back a smile. “Whatever you say. But you can’t tell him.”

She looked pointedly at me. “I won’t tell anyone . This stays between us. Why all the secrecy, though?”

Here goes nothing.

“This ghost that’s been visiting me is Wesley’s twin.”

“Wesley’s brother?” She blinked.

I nodded slowly, rubbing over the smooth surface of my thumb ring. “And he’s not the only one who thinks I’m his mate…”

Scar’s brows fused together, confusion pursed on her face until her pupils blew out. “You can’t be serious.”

I wouldn’t put the words in her mouth. I couldn’t.

“Wesley?” she exclaimed, her shoulders dropping in disbelief.

I nodded.

“Holy shit! When did this happen? Tell me everything !”

I filled her in on the basics.

“Oh. My...” She refilled our shot glasses, pushing one in my direction. “Does Tyler know?”

I raised mine in the air, clinking it to hers, downing them simultaneously. “No,” I croaked, wiping the residue off my lips. “We need to fix this, then we’ll tell Tyler.”

Scar stared at me, openmouthed. “I don’t believe it,” she said finally. “As in, childhood friend, hot as hell, ladies' man Wes?”

I cringed. “Yup. But there’s another side to him, Scar. He’s caring and sweet.”

Her voice lowered again. “And great in the sack?”

I couldn’t help it. I giggled like a freaking schoolgirl talking about her first crush.

Scar slapped a hand on the counter. “I knew it! A guy like him has to be a freak in the sheets.”

“No,” I corrected. “I mean, we haven’t done that yet. Gods, I am not talking about this!” I slammed my hands over my face with embarrassment at the mention of my sex life, or lack thereof.

“Well, you certainly kept that quiet.”

“To be honest, it’s all very new.” I couldn’t stop the smile that spread over my face. “Pretty crazy, right?”

“That’s the understatement of the year.” Her gaze softened. A newfound understanding between us. “Your secret is safe with me.”

I smiled and sighed in relief. “Thanks.”

She turned, gathering her black handbag, and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m heading out. Are you going to be okay on your own tonight?”

“I’m fine, you go.” I stood from my stool, making my way with my shot glass to the dishwasher, and placing it inside.

Scar’s arms wrapped around my shoulders, stifling my movements before releasing me just as quickly. “Don’t wait up for me.” She turned, heading for the front door. “And see if you can track down that death notice,” she said before she closed it behind her.

Making my way up the wooden stairwell, the floorboards creaked with every footstep. Pushing open the door to my bedroom, air pulled into my lungs in a hurried gasp.

“Wes!” My hand clung to my chest, déjà vu hitting me as I eyed him leaning against my drawers, looking so insanely attractive in a pair of faded jeans and grey top. “You scared me!”

His hair seemed more disheveled than usual, the faintest of dark shadows under his eyes hinting at a lack of sleep. They glistened as they travelled the length of me, the pull between us different now, in the most decadent of ways.

“Caring and sweet?” he said, mocking my tone from earlier.