Haunting Magic (Ink Book 6)

by Hood, Holly

  Hutch sits next to me. “I totally forgot.”

  “It’s all right. I didn’t even realize.” We ‘ve been having such a nice time talking my accident took a back seat. “Why the name Hutch?” I do what I can to take my mind off of the water and find out more about him.

  “It’s short for Hutchinson.” He scratches his head. “My great grandfather’s name. My parents were trying to honor the family. My middle name is even worse.”

  I raise an eyebrow waiting for him to tell me. But he shakes his head. “That is not something you will ever know.”

  I drop my head back and roll my eyes. It couldn’t be that bad of a name. “Oh come on. Tell me what it is.”

  He takes in my smile, I bite my lip feeling self-conscious, and looked at him. “What?”

  “Good to see you laughing.” He lays down throwing his hands behind his head staring up at the stars. “I don’t think this ever gets old.”

  “What?” I look at him, admiring him lying there enjoying everything. I wish I could be so relaxed.

  “Looking at the stars. Every time is fucking glorious.”

  I sigh. I need to relax. I need to see the beauty in something. So I lay down next to him in the sand and look up. He’s right, no matter how many times you have seen the stars on a dark night it still is amazing. It still is a beautiful thing that reminds you how lucky you are to be alive. It also reminds you how small and insignificant you are in the grander scheme of things.

  “What if it’s all a lie?” I ask no one in particular. “What if life is just one big sleep we are waiting to awaken from? Maybe we are meant to move on to the next world.” Maybe I am not meant to be here. Maybe that was the world I belonged.

  Preference

  “So how did your night go?” My dad asks, taking his spot across from me at the table.

  “Good.” It wasn’t the worst experience. I got to hang out with a hot guy who didn’t want in my pants. And he walked me back to my house and told me we should do it again sometime. For a few hours things were normal.

  I don’t know if I will do it again but I’m sure I will see him again— his mother is dating my dad. It’s hard not to.

  “Dad?” I pick up my glass of orange juice. “It’s been weeks. Where are Elliot and Easton?”

  “They were in the middle of important projects. This school is strict with grades and attendance so they are waiting for break before they come visit.” He scoots his eggs around on his plate. “It’s been a hard road for them. We went through two years of hell before we got them back on track. They’re in a good place now.”

  I nod. I understand the stress my health caused. It’s no wonder he sent them away. Now they are almost eighteen. I can’t wait to see how much they have grown.

  My dad drops his fork on his plate and gets up from the table. “I have work. I will see you later tonight.” He kisses me on the cheek and I watch him head to the closet for his briefcase before he goes out the door.

  But once he is out the door he comes back. “If you get bored you can always go grocery shopping. There’s money in my top dresser drawer.”

  I nod knowing he was more asking then suggesting, so I head to my room to shower and welcome the adventure.

  ***

  An hour later I am standing in the middle of the grocery store with a list. I have done an excellent job of finding face wash and dish soap but I have no clue where half the stuff I need is. And I hate asking for help.

  So I do what any normal human being would do—I wander down the first aisle and hope for the best.

  I miss Georgia. I knew where everything was. I felt at home. Here I am out of place and inadequate. Most of the woman grocery shopping are in high heels and are carrying overpriced purses.

  I round the corner reading down my list and bump into someone. The one person I don’t want to run into. Slade.

  “Easy crazy,” he grabs my cart and points me away from his body so I can do no more harm.

  “Sorry.” I have little to say, I nearly took his shins off but after the way things ended I don’t care. We can be strangers. I’d rather be that.

  I go to move around him and he grabs my cart again. “Need help with that list?”

  I look at the crumpled paper in my grip and back up at him. “I can’t find anything in this place.”

  We stare at each other. I want to ask him why he is such a prick. And I am sure he wants to tell me how mental I am but he is being decent.

  “It’s always better to start in the back,” he tells me. He takes over pushing the cart. “What’s first on the list?”

  “Eggs.” I tell him. “My dad likes breakfast.”

  “Do you?”

  He’s asking me a question? I nod my head. “Most days.”

  And we keep on walking. There’s no punch line. He doesn’t throw in an insult, he keeps on walking.

  “What are you doing here?” I raise an eyebrow. “Tv dinners?”

  He shakes his head. “Do you think I fuel all of this with tv dinners?” He’s referring to his muscles.

  “Don’t tell me you’re a health freak.” I smile and he matches it.

  “Let me make you dinner and you can be the judge,” he says.

  I search his eyes for his reasoning behind what he said. “What are you saying, Slade?”

  “I’m asking you to come over for dinner.”

  “Why?” We don’t work well together. He thinks I’m crazy and I might be. But what if I’m not? What if he realizes I may not be? Maybe I’m thinking too far into things again.

  I release a breath and push my hair out of my eyes so I can get a good look at him.

  “When you’re not freaking out I’m fucking attracted to you,” he says, his words give my heart a little giddy up. “So I say why the hell not. Let me make you dinner.”

  “What time?” I can’t believe I am agreeing on meeting up with him again. The first time was a mess.

  “Whenever you’re hungry.”

  “Okay. So six.” That give me two hours. One hour to get ready and the second hour to talk myself out of seeing him again.

  “What do you want to eat?”

  I have options wow.

  I shrug. “I don’t know, surprise me.”

  “That would mean you have to finish shopping by yourself.” He hands over the cart. “See you at six.”

  I nod and watch him head the other way. My heart dancing around in my chest.

  Magic

  I cannot believe I am standing in front of his apartment. And this time I am dressed better. I didn’t go fancy—I paired jeans with a t-shirt and threw on a pair of converse and called it a day. At least the jeans are skinny that constitutes trying to impress. Not that I am. I don’t need to impress him because he doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s probably bored after his cheating girlfriend left him and needs something to do.

  He’s standing at the door staring at me. “Are you going to come in?”

  I nod and push my worry aside so I can enter his apartment. I look around. It’s not bad. I guess it’s what I expected.

  But I didn’t expect to see pictures of him with his ex-girlfriend still sitting around his place. I didn’t see him as the kind of guy who would do that.

  I lift one picture and study it. He goes into his kitchen and pulls things out from the refrigerator.

  “What are you making?” I ask sitting the picture back in its spot. Even though I want to throw it into the wall and smash it into a million pieces. He deserves better than that skank.

  He starts chopping up vegetables. And looks at me. “Stir fry.”

  “Chicken or steak?” Because both are my favorite.

  “I figured I would grab both and you could choose. Because when a girl says surprise me that just means a fight is going to ensues if you get it wrong.” He smirks and goes back to the cutting. “Whatever you want take it.”

  I want you.

  I move past him to get to the refrigerator. It’s a small kitchen and
if I take three steps backwards I could touch him. I settle on chicken and pull out the package. I set it on the counter and take the spot next to him.

  “Everything good now after the coma?” He looks back down to the vegetables.

  I snag a piece of carrot and pop it in my mouth and nod. “I guess so.”

  He nods.

  “My dad is dating again. And her son has the same name as the guy from my weird coma dream.” I shrug, if he’s asking I’ll talk. I need someone to vent to. “But he’s nothing like the guy I imagined him to be.”

  He nods again but this time his blue eyes settle on mine. “You met the guy?”

  Now I’m nodding. “After the night I had with you I wanted to go home and forget but my dad insisted I take Hutch out to see Cherry. So I did.”

  He scoffs. Like he has any reason to scoff. “You work fast.” He throws an insult.

  “And who are you to talk, Slade?” I snap. “You have pictures of your girlfriend all over your apartment and invited me here. So stop trying to make me feel bad.”

  “You think those pictures matter?” He rounds the counter and lifts every one of them off the tables and takes the ones from the walls down. He goes to the trash and drops them all in and looks at me. “She can have that waiter.”

  I smirk.

  “I wish you would have let me smash his face in though,” he says.

  I wish he wouldn’t try to make me like him. Everything he does makes me like him. “She wasn’t worth your time. You deserve way better than someone who can’t put her phone down long enough to listen to you sing.”

  He grins and picks up the knife. “Is this what it feels like to have a groupie?”

  I want to admit I’ve been his groupie for four years. So he shouldn’t be shocked I still am. But instead I poke at the vegetables and he hands me a bowl. I start piling them into the bowl. Until he grabs the bowl out of my hand and tosses it on the counter and kisses me. His lips press into mine making my heart skip beats. He takes me by the back of my head and presses my body into the counter. His tongue plunges into my mouth and I moan against his lips.

  He pulls my shirt over my head and drops it on the floor. I press my forehead against his and take the moment to think. “What are we doing?”

  He touches my face. “What we should be.” He takes his shirt off. The tattoos and the muscles—dear god he is a dream come to reality.

  “I don’t want this to just be sex,” I tell him. He attacks my mouth again. And looks at me. “What the hell am I saying? Just do it.”

  Slade grins and leads me past the kitchen, living room and down the hallway to his bedroom. He kicks the half-open door the rest of the way open and backs me into the room. He kisses me all the way to his bed.

  “Do you think this is a good idea?” Yes, my brain forced my mouth to say this.

  He touches the top of his jeans, his fingers lingering on the button that can unleash an amazing part of him. But he is polite, and he waits for me to come to my senses.

  I watch his chest rise and fall. “I can’t think of a single reason we should stop,” he says.

  I guess he is right. What reason is there? “Okay.”

  I take a step closer.

  “Okay.” He steps closer erasing the distance. We are free to do what we want. “Look at me.”

  I do.

  “I promise I won’t make this weird if you don’t,” he tells me.

  How could this not be weird? But I nod anyway. But when he goes to kiss me again I push against his chest and shake my head.

  “This is weird. This entire thing is weird.” I sit down on his bed and release a breath of frustration. “How could this be?”

  Slade sits down next to me. “I don’t know.”

  “How could none of that be true?” I don’t want to live in this reality. “How could we not be in love with each other? Why is my tattoo gone? Why don’t you love me so much that you are going crazy like I am right now at the thought of not loving me?” Why am I saying this?

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I am supposed to say.”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Because you are you and I am me and we are not meant to be together. There is no heart tattoo. There is no magic. There is just this miserable world I wish didn’t exist.”

  I get up to leave. I don’t look back, I run through Slade’s house and back into the hallway. I take off for the stairs forgetting the elevator and when I’m at the steps I go for the railing and miss. One step after another my body crashes and rolls until I am a heap at the bottom of the staircase. I touch my head.

  And everything goes black—again.

  Maybe

  I hate alarms. So this one is no different. It sounds different. But it’s an alarm and I want to smash it into a million pieces. But when I open my eyes, and I am looking at the bedroom I am in I don’t care if that alarm rings for the rest of my life.

  “Oh my god!” I bat at the covers and drop my feet to the floor. “Please don’t tell me this is a dream!!” My ankle is sore and I take another step and wince.

  Slade walks into the room. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “It’s you!” I forget the pain. I wrap my arms around him and burst into a tears. “I never have been so happy to see you. Please tell me this is real. Please tell me this isn’t a joke.”

  Slade kisses my forehead and pulls me away from him so he can get a good look at me. “Dax and I went out and you thought climbing up on the roof was a good idea.”

  I shake him, screaming like someone just won the lottery. I jump up and down. I have never been so excited to know that this is my life. I look at my arm and sob. It’s there, and its beautiful and everything I ever wanted.

  “I had the worst nightmare,” I tell him all about it.

  He isn’t as enthusiastic as I am. In fact, once he shakes me loose he takes a seat on the bed. “We have an interview on live television in an hour.”

  I scratch at my head. “Okay. That sounds great.”

  He makes a face. “My least favorite part of being in a rock band.” He looks at me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You were just hanging there. Karsen and Kidd thought you were dead.”

  “I’m amazing,” I assure him. “After that dream nothing could be better than knowing this is true.”

  “Good. So get dressed and we can get this over with.”

  I shoot him another smile and take him in for a few more seconds before I limp to the bathroom. I can’t believe it was all a dream.

  I shut the door and take off my clothes. I kick my socks away and pull down my pajama bottoms. And look back up to be sure that everything is still the way it should be. And scream.

  “Fuck.” It’s exactly the way it should be. Even the way it shouldn’t be. Hutch is behind me.

  Slade knocks on the door. “Everything okay?”

  I shake my head, my hands shaking as I twist the lock on the door so Slade doesn’t come in. “Everything is fine. Just my ankle.”

  I glare at Hutch. “You are not real. And you are not welcome here.”

  He takes a seat on my countertop. “Is that so?”

  “Yes it is so,” I move past him and turn on the water. “You can leave because I will not let you bother me anymore.”

  “But you are bothered. Your mind is fighting to figure out what is real and what isn’t. How can you be so sure this is even real?” He gives me one of those grins.

  I want him to stop talking. I ignore him and step into the shower closing the door. I will not acknowledge him. I turn around to grab my loofah and he hands it to me.

  I yank it from him and turn my back to him. Hutch’s hand meets up with my shoulder and it feels so real. How could this be happening? This can’t happen anymore. I am exactly where I need to be.

  “In that other world you were with your family. Your dad was alive. Nona was alive. They were happy,” he says. “Why would you want to be here?”

  I squeeze soap onto my loofah an
d soap up. It doesn’t matter because this is just a figment of my imagination. I did something stupid climbing on that roof. It’s not real. This is real.

  “Tell me that wasn’t better, doll,” he says, he won’t stop.

  “Leave me alone!” I spin around and push into his chest and he’s gone. He’s no longer standing in front of me.

  I take a breath and pull it together.

  Glitz

  I am Hope Andrews. I am Hope Andrews. I am Hope Andrews.

  I keep repeating it on a loop so I don’t forget. I am the wife of Slade Andrews. My husband is a rock star. My husband is a big deal. And I am his wife. I am the girl madly in love with Slade Andrews.

  It’s a simple sentence. Four simple words. So why is it so hard to remember when I am staring at a crowd of people pointing cameras at me?

  Why am I sweating? I have deodorant on. What if this deodorant doesn’t work and they notice? What if the tabloids write up an entire story about my body odor?

  “I am, Hope… Andrews.” There I said. I got the words out. Now if I could get a grip on my racing heart before I die in front of these reporters. Man, what an article would that be: Slade Andrews wife keels over on national television.

  Now they are looking at me.

  “Do you have anything to say?” One news reporter asks me. I keep smiling even though I have no idea what she is even saying. I don’t know what she asked me. I was too busy focusing on my name to even remember a single god damn syllable.

  “Not really,” I tell her. My cheeks hurt. It can’t be good to smile so much. I Am I smiling too much? Maybe I should tone it down because smiling too much could make you seem crazy. But what if they think I am crazy because I go straight face all of a sudden?

  “Not even one thing?” Another reporter asks, he holds out his microphone and raises an eyebrow trying to pull something out of me.

  Shit. I faked enough conversations in my life to get through this one. I will just agree. I will just agree with whatever they asked. It couldn’t be that bad. Most reporters have nothing but great things to say about the band. The guys are doing great. They are at the top of their career. That’s what their manager says whenever he calls.