Page 54 of Whisked Away
“Yes, Alex. This is a game I’m playing. I want to return to Paris one day, hopefully sooner than later. Whatever it takes to gain my freedom, I’ll do it.”
“No. You’re not… This isn’t…” She crosses her arms as another brutal gust of wind whips over us. “I could write an article destroying the Whisk.”
It takes everything in me to dredge up the bitter, careless laugh I throw at her. “You think I care about the Whisk? I don’t.”
I do, of course. It’s my life’s work. My greatest passion.
And the greater implication—that I don’t care about her—hurts even more. She releases a sob and shakes her head like she can’t believe it. Then she scrunches her sleeve-covered hands against her eyes like she wants to wipe the night away.
The sight of her pain is almost unbearable. Every instinct screams at me to take it all back, to pull her close and tell her the truth. But I can’t. I have to see this through, for her sake and for the safety of everyone in Magnolia Cove.
“I’m sorry, Alex,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “But you’ve been searching for the truth and you’ve found it. It’s just uglier than what you wish to believe.”
She looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed. “I don’t believe you. The Ethan I know wouldn’t?—”
“The Ethan you know doesn’t exist.” Each word feels like a dagger in my heart. “He’s a character I play, nothing more.”
Alex takes another step back. It’s grown nearly cold up on the cliff, and the distance between us emphasizes it. “So every moment,” she says, “every conversation, every… every touch. That was all fake?”
I force myself to nod even as the magic within me roars. Ican’t stand the lies I’m telling her, the hurt I’m dishing out. “I’m good at what I do.”
She stares at me for a long moment, searching. Then she shakes her head. “You’re hiding something. This island is hiding something. Pushing me away isn’t the answer.”
“There’s nothing to hide, Alex. It’s just Magnolia Cove, doing what it does best—creating an illusion.”
She stares at me for what feels like an eternity, her face slowly transforming. It’s like watching an earthquake gradually crack a street, slowly swallowing the surrounding buildings. Then she scrubs at her face and straightens. She peels my jacket off and thrusts it at me. The polished, careful food writer reappears. The woman who’d walked off a ferry in pumps and a pressed shirt.
She turns and storms down the path, fists clenched at her sides.
I watch her go, each step feeling like a physical blow. The magic in the air seems to dim, and the beauty of the night turns to ash.
I’ve done what I had to do. I’ve protected Alex and the town, kept our secrets safe. But the weight of what I’ve lost settles over me like a shroud. I can’t help but wonder if the price was too high.
“Very convincing, Hart.” I startle as Dean steps out from the shadows.
My muscles tense, and magic surges through me. “How long have you been listening?”
“Long enough.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares out at the dark sea. “I had to make sure you handled things. This is a delicate situation.” A beat of silence passes, and I’m too angry and broken to respond. “I’m not personally against you, Ethan.”
There’s more humanity in his voice than I’ve ever heard, but, for once, I don’t care. I’ve been searching for somethingthat mattered for years—I chased it around the world with baking. I’ve spent over a decade perfecting each recipe, trying to capture a taste of home, something that matters. Now I’ve found it—her—the real thing. And I let her go. No, worse, I shattered her. I let her walk away with tears slipping down her cheeks.
The jacket has cooled from her warmth, and I can feel myself changing, feel the magic taking over.
“Hopefully, I’ve finally given enough,” I mutter, more to myself than to Dean.
As I turn to leave, the weight of the night settles over me. I’ve protected our world, our secrets. I’ve even protected Alex from having her mind touched by magic. But at what cost? Every thudding footstep down the path leaves me wondering if I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.
Alex
The sun hasn’t risen yet, but I’ve given up on sleep. My eyes sting, raw from a night of silent tears. I furiously shove the last of my clothes into my suitcase. My dry cleaner will never forgive me for the damage I’m causing them, but I can’t help it.
My phone buzzes for what feels like the hundredth time—Tish again. I can’t bring myself to answer. Of course, now the cell service decides to work. Magnolia Cove kept me off the grid when I wanted connection, and now that I want silence, it delivers full bars. One word of pity from Tish, one mumbled ‘Oh, honey,’ and I know I’ll crumble. Sending her a text at all was impulsive. Like every decision I’ve made since arriving in Magnolia Cove.
God, I’m such a fool.
How did I let this happen?
Part of a summer in a picture-perfect town, and suddenly I’m nursing a broken heart like some lovesick teenager? I’ve spent years building walls, protecting myself from this kind of pain. From this kind of emotional compromise. And forwhat? To let my life come crashing down over a small-town baker with secrets in his eyes and magic in his hands?
