Page 48 of Strings Attached
“Leading researcher at Calthorne. Always the perfectionist. Plus I noticed half of who’s who in Willow Bay is here.” The words come easier than expected. “Always the popular one as well.”
She smiles, soft and real. “You attended.”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t sure you received my invitation.”
I stop dancing. “Your invitation? I thought Mom sent it. I assumed you wouldn’t want me here.”
Dancers in evening dress whirl around us and the music swells. But Nell's attention remains on me, her brow furrowing. “Mom thought adding a note from her might help. I thought you wouldn’t want to come.”
“I didn’t.” She winces and I scramble to find my voice before bungling things between us again. “I mean, because my presence would remind you of how I hurt you.” The words scrape my throat. “You told me that you never wanted to see me again.”
She looks away but I see the shimmer in her eyes before she does. “Dean, I was seventeen. That was a decade ago. I know I said terrible things to you, but I was young and stupid and hurt. I needed time to heal. And you were barely more than a kid, and you were doing your best.” She touches my arm, and the contact burns like truth. “When you wiped everyone’s memories...”
I shudder, mint-sharp regret flooding my mouth.
“...you were protecting everyone, and I was too young and hurt and foolish to understand that.”
“I destroyed your happiness.”
“I thought I’d destroyed yours.” A gasp spills out of me and I look at my sister, at the makeup smearing beneath her eyes. She swallows. “Once I realized how selfish I’d been and processed the hurt, you were already established in Magnolia Cove. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to destroy your chance at happiness.” Her face loses color as she speaks and her voice is whisper-soft so I strain to hear her over the music. “So I decided to say nothing. I thought coming back here would just remind you of all the time you’d lost because of my selfishness, so I kept my distance.”
Ten years. I’ve spent ten years building my life around her absence, letting guilt shape every decision, every achievement. Head Warlock of Magnolia Cove before thirty—not because I craved power, but because I needed purpose heavy enough to anchor me against the weight of what I’d done. Or what I thought I’d done.
The sharp taste of memory magic floods my mouth again, but this time it carries a different bitterness. Mom is right. Nell and I are both too damn stubborn.
I’ve crafted every bit of magic, reinforced every ward, maintained every barrier with the precision of someone who believes isolation is their penance. Built my reputation on control and distance because I thought that’s what she needed—her brother, the one who destroyed her happiness, far enough away that she could heal. And all this time, she’s carried the same guilt, thinking she’d driven me away.
She glances around the reception, at her new husband dancing with Mom, but also throwing her concerned looks. “Mom convinced me to invite you. But I didn’t want to guilt you and force you to attend, so I just sent the invitation.”
“Nell.” I gasp, unable to find words that can match my racing thoughts. “I ruined your life.”
“No, I ruined my life.” Her cheeks flush but she raises her chin. “And it taught me some painful but valuable lessons. Sometimes the rules exist for good reason. But sometimes… you just know… sometimes love is worth the risk.” She swallows and bats more tears away and that’s when I realize I’m crying too. She grabs my hand, tentatively and I accept the gesture. “And I’m so glad you took the risk and came home.”
The words hit like an echo of Missy’s goodbye. Of another choice made from love, another sacrifice offered to protect someone else’s happiness. I’ve been so focused on maintaining distance that I missed how bridges can be rebuilt, how some wounds need connection to heal properly.
Maybe it’s time to stop letting old scars dictate new choices.
“Have breakfast with me tomorrow?” Nell's question comes hesitantly, but her eyes are wide with hope. She wants to spend time with me. Wants to see me again.
“What about your new husband?”
“We have a three-week honeymoon in the Seychelles.” She grins, looking so much like the little sister I remember my chestaches. “I’ve had him for four years. I want a few hours with my brother. If he would want that with me.”
“Of course I would, Nell.”
The next moment shatters a decade of careful distance. We collide in a tangle of wedding dress and dark suit, tears and laughter mixing like conflicting spells. My magic sparks against her skin, recognizing family bonds that run deeper than duty or guilt.
She smells like gardenias and salty tears, and her grip is fierce enough to wrinkle my jacket beyond salvation. It’s one of the happiest moments I’ve had in years.
Morning finds us at an old favorite cafe, sunlight spilling across a table laden with pastries neither of us has touched. Nell stirs her tea gracefully, and I catalog the changes in her—the confident set of her shoulders, the ease in her smile, the way she holds herself like someone who knows who she is. This is a version of my sister I don’t know.
The minty tang of old magic ghosts my tongue as she speaks. But watching her talk about her research, her new life, her plans, I see the scars of old wounds—still visible, but no longer raw. She’s mostly healed, the way broken bones knit stronger at the fracture points. But there’s still something tentative in how she leans forward, in the way her fingers trace the rim of her teacup when she mentions our parents. Like she’s built a beautiful life but left space in it, waiting for the last pieces to slot into place. Waiting, maybe, for me.
“Dean?” Her voice shifts, knowing. “What’s really on your mind?”
“I’ve been such a fool about this. I thought I was being strong for you. I thought your silence meant you needed me gone, and I convinced myself that protecting you meant staying away.”
