A Charmed Life (Coven Corner #3) Read online

  Nick turned his wrist slightly to take her hand. There wasn’t enough room for him on the couch. Hazel was already at the armrest and Phoebe had spread out to take up the rest of the available space.

  Instead, Nick settled on the floor next to Hazel’s feet. He set his hand on Hazel’s knee. Even though her skirt barely covered her knees, Nick kept his hand atop the fabric and didn’t make a move to touch skin.

  “Take all the time you want,” he whispered and kissed the back of her hand.

  Hazel brushed her thumb across his chin, trailed her fingers along his jawline to cradle his cheek in her palm.

  In that moment, with Nick and Phoebe on either side of her, Hazel couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but right here.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Hazel found herself at the Butler household more often than she was at her own home after that. Instead of getting ready for school at home, alone, Hazel would help Nick and Phoebe cook breakfast every morning.

  Sometimes, they did it the old-fashioned way without magic. Nick rolled up his sleeves and Phoebe donned an apron that nearly touched the ground, it was so big on her. She wielded a wooden spoon like a scepter, shouting orders for more eggs! More syrup! More salt!

  Other times, when they were running late, Hazel and Phoebe would cast spells for jack-o-lantern pancakes, pumpkin orange and peppered with chocolate chips in the shape of a grinning face.

  Every morning, Phoebe attempted to sneak Luna into her backpack and bring her to school. It wasn’t unusual for witches and warlocks to bring their familiars to school with them. In most cases, it was helpful when spells became more complicated.

  But Phoebe didn’t need Luna yet. She simply wanted to play with her kitten instead of focusing on her lessons.

  “Looks like you’re carrying a heavy load today,” Hazel said, every morning like clockwork. She pointed her wand at Phoebe’s backpack.

  Nick paused, leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. He never noticed when Phoebe smuggled Luna away. But Hazel did. Every time.

  She zapped a small spell at Phoebe’s backpack. The zipper uncurled and Luna poked her head out.

  Nick crossed the room to pick up Luna and tucked her into the crook of his arm.

  “Nice try, kiddo,” he said.

  “Aw, come on,” Phoebe sighed. “Other kids bring their familiars.”

  “Because their lessons require the extra assistance,” Hazel pointed out. “You haven’t reached that stage yet. You still have some catching up to do.”

  Phoebe huffed and zipped up her backpack again. She cast a beseeching glance at Nick. But he just shook his head.

  “Don’t look at me like that, sweetie,” he said. “Hazel is your teacher. She knows what she’s talking about. No distractions. Luna will be waiting for you when you get home.”

  He set his cup of coffee aside and set Luna in her cat bed beside the stove—the warmest, coziest part of the house.

  Nick held his arms wide.

  “Now,” he said. “It’s time for my girls to give me a good-bye hug.”

  Hazel and Phoebe crowded in around him and kissed his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around them both. Hazel took the split second of opportunity to nuzzle against Nick’s neck, to nose at his earlobe with a teasing little kiss. He always shivered, just a little, and Hazel hummed in victory.

  Then she tore herself away and gathered up her broomstick along with Phoebe’s from the rack by the door.

  “All right, Phoebe,” she said. “We’d better get moving before we’re the last ones to show up.”

  Phoebe accepted her broom and clattered out the door. Nick caught Hazel’s fingers in a light grip and brushed his knuckles along her cheek. He rested his forehead against hers.

  “Have a good day at school,” he said softly.

  Hazel wanted nothing more than to melt right into him, to stay in that moment for eternity. But she pulled away with a final squeeze to his hand.

  “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” she said.

  “No promises there,” Nick countered.

  Phoebe launched off of the porch and sailed into the air with a whoop, flying higher on her broomstick. She glanced over her shoulder with a wave to Nick. He waved back from the doorway.

  Hazel followed shortly after to keep Phoebe from flying too high.

  Then one day, Phoebe had been unusually talkative all morning. Nick had cast Hazel a look, as if to say, I told you so.

  “Miss Aven,” Phoebe said. “I’ve been thinking about magic and what I want to be when I grow up.”

  “Really?” Hazel said.

  Phoebe nodded, dipping her broomstick low to trail her hands over the leaves of the treetops.

  “Yeah, ‘cause Seline said I’m really good with spells and stuff. She likes to work with earth magic. But I can cast all sorts of different spells.”

  “Seline is absolutely right. You’re quite gifted with witchcraft.”

  “Well, she said I could grow mushrooms and apples and pumpkins, like she does. She wants to work on the family farm when she grows up.” Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t want to do that.”

  “What would you like to do then?” Hazel said. “You don’t have to decide right away. You have plenty of time to think about it.”

  “Oh, I’ve already decided.” Phoebe nodded with finality. “I want to be a school teacher. Like you, Miss Aven.”

  Hazel’s broomstick hovered there in the air and didn’t move. Phoebe pointed to a spot in the distance.

  “Look! Seline and Miss Torres just landed at school!”

  And she zoomed off.

  For the rest of the day, Hazel couldn’t stop smiling to herself as she replayed Phoebe’s words over and over in her head.

  I want to be a school teacher. Like you, Miss Aven.

  ***

  After school one day, Hazel and Phoebe returned to the Butler household. Phoebe skidded into the garage, broomstick bumping against the ground in a rough landing. Hazel coasted to a stop outside of the garage and watched as Phoebe launched herself into Nick’s arms, laughing.

  “How was school today?” Nick said.

  Phoebe, cheeks flushed from the flight, tugged her witch’s hat tighter on her head to prevent it from falling off.

  “I’ve been practicing spells,” she declared, pride shining bright in her voice.

  Nick cast a glance at Hazel with a knowing smile. “Really?” he said. “What kind of spells?”

  “Lots of them. Today, I cast an anti-hex spell so no one can turn me into a rat.”

  “Why would anyone want to turn you into a rat?”

  Phoebe shrugged. “No one. But I need to know it so I can be safe. And to keep other people safe.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Phoebe nodded. “I thought so too. Where’s Luna?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Phoebe squirmed out of Nick’s arms and dropped to the ground. She started for the front door and disappeared out of sight. Nick slid an arm around Hazel’s waist, nosing at her cheek.

  “Feels like forever since I saw you,” he said softly.

  Hazel breathed a quiet little laugh against his shoulder as she ducked her head and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I was just here for breakfast,” she countered.

  “That was hours ago.”

  “Not even a whole day. Does that mean you missed me?”

  Sean hummed. “You have no idea.”

  Hazel beamed and tilted her chin up to kiss him, slow and lazy.

  “I saw that.”

  Hazel jerked back and spun around to see Phoebe standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

  “You were…” Phoebe flapped her hand in a dismissive gesture and screwed up her face in an expression of disgust. “You were kissing.”

  Nick glanced at Hazel then back to Phoebe. Hazel had been so careful to ensure that any signs of affection where kept out of Phoebe’s sight. Hazel had known she couldn’t ke
ep that up forever. But it just seemed too soon for Phoebe to catch them in the act like this.

  “We talked about this, honey,” Nick said. “Remember? This is normal between two people who like each other. If it’s upsetting, you need to tell us.”

  Phoebe considered for a moment. Then she shrugged.

  “It doesn’t really bother me,” she said. “But it’s still gross. Anyway, where are the caramels Miss Aven and I made yesterday? I left them in a tin in the cabinet but I can’t find them.”

  Nick grimaced. “They were really good.”

  “You didn’t save any for me?” Phoebe said, indignant.

  “Sorry, kiddo.”

  Phoebe stuck out her chin and turned her gaze to Hazel.

  “Miss Aven,” she said. “Could we make more of those caramels? And eat them all before Daddy gets any?”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Hazel said.

  “Hey,” Nick objected, spreading his hands. “It’s a compliment! I couldn’t help myself!”

  Hazel laughed and patted his chest as she moved to follow Phoebe into the house. As she passed Nick’s work bench, a flicker of white caught her attention. She dropped her gaze to find an envelope on the bench, with looping handwriting sprawled across the front, addressed to Nick.

  But it was the return address that made Hazel’s stomach twist.

  From: Marissa Taggert.

  Hazel reached out, her fingers trembling, and picked up the envelope. It was laced with the scent of sage and cinnamon, with a hint of sweet vanilla. It was so light, weighing barely more than a feather, and yet it felt so heavy in her hand with what it carried.

  “Nick,” she said.

  Her voice sounded hollow, trembling, as if someone else was speaking instead of her.

  Nick turned away from the car he was working on, wrench paused in mid-air.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  Then his gaze fell on the envelope in her hand. His jaw clenched and he inhaled a sharp breath.

  “What is this?” Hazel said.

  She flipped the envelope over. The seal had been broken. Whatever the letter said, Nick had already read it.

  The logical part of her brain told her to stay calm, don’t jump to conclusions.

  But her heart was pounding hard and fast, beating out a panicked rhythm that was quickly drowning out that tiny logical voice in her mind.

  Nick and Phoebe had become like a family to her. Not just a student, parent, teacher relationship. She had opened her heart to them, welcomed them in.

  But now it seemed as if all of it could come crumbling down in an instant. Marissa would return, slip back into her role as beloved mother and wife.

  Was Hazel a temporary fill-in to begin with? Had she meant anything to Nick and Phoebe? Or was she merely a surrogate for Marissa until she returned and they took her back in to become the family they always wanted?

  In two long strides, Nick crossed the garage. He took the envelope—he didn’t snatch the letter out of her grasp, but it was a firm gesture nonetheless.

  “It’s nothing,” Nick said, his voice flat and cold. He turned his back on her. Shutting her out.

  Hazel swallowed. “That’s not true and you know it.”

  Nick didn’t reply. He shoved the letter into a drawer of his work bench and out of sight.

  But, Hazel noticed, he didn’t throw the letter away. He was keeping it.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The weekend arrived, bringing with it an absence of Nick and Phoebe.

  At first, Hazel considered sweeping the whole thing under the rug and forgetting about that letter. But she knew she couldn’t do that. It continued to eat away at her thoughts, pestering her with the unknown contents.

  After three years of silence, what was Marissa writing to Nick and Phoebe about?

  So, Hazel welcomed the reprieve of the weekend. She didn’t go to the Butler’s house for breakfast. And there was no need to help Phoebe get ready for school on the weekends.

  Besides, she had a bridesmaid dress fitting on Saturday that was likely to take up the entire day.

  Sky’s tearoom, Boiled and Brewed, was flooded with fabric. Russet oranges, rich golds, velvet rose reds.

  “Hold still, Bryony,” Hazel said, aiming her wand at Bryony’s waist.

  Bryony squirmed, holding up the front of her dress with both hands.

  “I hate dresses,” she grumbled. “And it itches like crazy.”

  “It’s silk,” Sky said. “How could it possibly itch?”

  “Maybe because you won’t let me finish up taking in these last few inches. You wear all those baggy clothes, I had no idea you were so lean.”

  Bryony huffed and slouched in place, resigning herself to her fate. With a flick of her wrist, Hazel gave her wand a flourish and the fabric that gaped at Bryony’s back was spelled into place, neatly pleated and seams lying flat and smooth.

  Hazel and Sky stepped back to survey the work of their spells. Bryony stood in the middle of Sky’s tearoom in a dark gold and red gown that cinched tight at the waist, strapless to reveal her toned shoulders after years of climbing trees and working in the gardens, orchards, and greenhouses. The skirts flared out in a sunflower petal pattern, draping over her hips, swirling around her legs.

  It was gorgeous.

  But it wasn’t right for Bryony Torres.

  “I feel like a potato,” Bryony declared.

  Hazel held up her wand, the birch wood worn to smoothness beneath her fingers.

  “Let’s try a different style,” she said.

  Hazel conjured six different spells to rip out the stitches she’d put into Bryony’s gown for the past hour. She altered the color of the fabric to a dark, pine green, like forests and moss, etched in silver thread to form falling leaves along the hemline of the sleeves that spread down to her knuckles, edged in Queen Anne’s lace patterns.

  Hazel tossed aside the skirt spells in favor for a pant suit spell. With a few more tugs of magic, she released the spells and stepped back to survey her work.

  Bryony now wore long, elegant sleeves, fitted to her arms, with high waisted dark green pants that flared wide at the legs. When Bryony turned, silver leaves glinted and twinkled, as if they were drifting down her body, like she was a tree amid the forest.

  “It’s perfect,” Sky said with a gentle smile on her face.

  “Although it doesn’t fit the color scheme we’d worked out for your wedding,” Hazel said.

  Sky shrugged. “I don’t care. It suits Bryony. That’s what matters.”

  She turned toward Hazel and flicked her wand toward the middle of the room.

  “We should get started on your dress,” she said.

  “Thank god,” Bryony said. “I can finally eat. I’m starving.”

  She retrieved her wand from where she’d left it on the coffee table and with a short banishing spell, she had the green and silver pant suit neatly folded and placed on her chair. She was back to her usual Bryony outfit—ratty jeans rolled up at the cuffs with the knees torn out, a baggy black sweater with a cat’s face on the back that winked and purred with magical spells, and an apple red bandanna to tie her carrot-colored curls back from her face.

  Bryony left the sitting room, her footsteps fading into the kitchen. A moment later, cabinets clattered open and closed, followed by the clang of pots and pans.

  “Don’t burn my kitchen down!” Sky called, surveying the folds of fabric displayed on her couch.

  “I won’t!” Bryony called back.

  Sky selected a rich red fabric that was nearly black.

  “What about this one?” she said, holding the fabric out for Hazel to examine. “You always look wonderful in red.”

  Hazel considered for a moment. She did love the color, especially for a Samhain wedding.

  “It’s perfect,” Hazel said.

  Sky smiled and shooed Hazel to the middle of the room, granting her plenty of space to work with the fabric. Hazel stood stock still as Sky cas
t spells to levitate the fabric, smooth it out, then drape it over Hazel’s body, pinching here, tying off there.

  “Are you all right?” Sky said.

  Hazel blinked, surprised. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  Sky shrugged. She didn’t meet Hazel’s gaze as she worked. Her spells had improved considerably since she’d been practicing with her fiancé, Aiden Hall, but it still required every ounce of her concentration and she didn’t dare look away for fear of making a mistake that would take hours to unravel.

  “I don’t know,” Sky said. “You seem distracted.”

  Hazel hadn’t told anyone else about the letter from Marissa, or Nick’s reaction to it. But she found herself spilling the whole thing to Sky as Sky spun spells with fabric, ribbons, and lace.

  By the time she was done, Bryony had drifted into the room, poking at a plate of food with a fork.

  “Sounds like you and Nick need a serious chat,” she said.

  “Says the girl who ran from the man she loved,” Hazel said. “Repeatedly.”

  “Yeah and let me tell you, it solved nothing. Besides,” Bryony said, gesturing with her fork and a bite of seasoned squash. “You’re the one who always likes everything to be neat and orderly. You hate misunderstandings or unresolved conflict. You’re annoyingly diplomatic that way.”

  “I think that was a compliment but I’m not sure,” Hazel said drily.

  “Talk to him, Hazel,” Bryony insisted around a mouthful of squash. “Nick is crazy about you. I saw the way you were looking at each other during the Mabon celebration.”

  Sky nodded. “You were both very focused.”

  Hazel sighed and tipped her head back. “I know I have to talk to him. I just found out about the letter yesterday. I’m…gathering my thoughts.”

  Bryony raised her eyebrows with a small interested sound. She settled on the couch, propped her feet on the coffee table and snuggled deep into the cushions.

  “I do enjoy coming up with plans of attack,” she said.

  Sky, now that her spells were completed, swished her wand in Bryony’s direction.

  “It’s not an attack,” she said. “Hazel doesn’t do that sort of thing. She’s merely working out what she wants to say. She’s thoughtful that way. Especially since there’s a child involved.”