Serendipity: A Bayou Magic Novel Page 6

  “What happened in the garage?” he asks. “When you touched the piano, it was different from the other things.”

  “Just a memory.”

  “Bullshit.”

  But his voice is mild as he sits back and watches me.

  “Okay, we’re being open and honest, right? Because of this predicament we’re in?”

  He raises a brow. “That’s a mild term, but yes.”

  “I don’t want to tell you.” There, I said it. “I don’t want to talk about it with you, Jackson. Because I don’t trust that you’ll hear me and not freak out. Because the last time I tried to talk to you about something important I saw, you walked out on me. You left and tore me to pieces.”

  “I was young,” he says and stands, pushing his hand through his hair. “Jesus, Daph, I was so young. And hurt. Grieving. Sad. And I wanted to be angry. You were the closest target.”

  “Age has nothing to do with treating someone with respect.” I stand as well and cross my arms over my chest. “You wouldn’t listen to me. I told you what I saw because you needed to know. And it nearly killed me. I almost didn’t tell you.”

  “For a long time, I wished you hadn’t,” he says and holds his hands out at his sides. “I didn’t want to know that my dad killed himself. I couldn’t deal with it. And, yes, I was horrible that day, but since we’re being honest here, I was horrible for a long time. Going into the Army and leaving was the best thing for me. Because I was an asshole. And so damn angry.”

  “I can’t risk you leaving again.” I shrug when his eyes narrow. “We need you to help finish this thing with him, whether I like it or not. And trust me when I say, I don’t like it. I didn’t want you to be the sixth. I didn’t want us to need you.”

  “I’m flattered.” His voice is dry as he crosses his arms over his chest.

  “But you are the sixth, and we do need you. So, I’m not going to tell you anything that I think will send you running for the hills. Not until he’s gone, and we’re free to live our lives like not-so-normal people.”

  That makes his lips twitch.

  “I won’t leave.”

  His voice is strong. Sure. Free from frustration now and completely calm. His eyes never waver, and he drops his arms from his chest.

  “I won’t go, Daphne. Just tell me what you saw.”

  I want to. Goddess, I want to.

  “Hey.” He crosses to me and frames my face in his hands. The warmth that seeps into me is like a sweet welcome home. I don’t think I’ve felt warm since the day he walked out on me all those years ago. “You can tell me. I won’t turn my back on you again.”

  I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and with my eyes on his, I tell him what I saw when I touched the piano.

  “It was a memory, like I said,” I add when I’m finished relaying the story. “And, Jack, it’s my fault.”

  I feel the tears fill my eyes as he drops his hands from my face and takes a step back.

  The retreat is a slice through my heart.

  “It’s my fault that he killed himself,” I continue while I can still make the words come. “He felt so guilty, even though he didn’t cause her death. It was a horrible mistake. An awful accident. But I told him too much, and he just couldn’t handle it. And then, just a few weeks later, he took his own life. I can’t tell you what I wouldn’t give to be able to go back and do it differently. To shut my damn mouth and not tell him everything I saw that day. It destroyed him, Jack. And it’s my fault.”

  And just like that, my worst fears come to life.

  Jack turns his back on me, drops his head, and sighs.

  Chapter Six

  Jackson

  For fuck’s sake, how much more will be piled onto me this week? I take a deep breath and blow it out. I don’t want Daph to see this grief and hurt.

  She doesn’t deserve that.

  “You’re going to go,” she whispers behind me, and I turn to find her looking absolutely defeated.

  “No.” I step back to her and wrap my arms around her, pulling her against me as I rock back and forth, comforting us both. “No, I’m not leaving. I just needed a minute, that’s all.”

  She clings to me in relief, and I pull back to wipe the tears from her gorgeous cheeks.

  “You’ve been carrying a burden that isn’t yours,” I say gently as she sniffles. She shakes her head, but I continue. “Listen to me very carefully, Daphne. My father chose to end his life. He couldn’t carry the grief and guilt, and that’s on him. I feel awful for him, and I wish he’d gone to someone for help. Oliver. Me. Miss Sophia. But it’s not your fault that he took the information you gave him and used it as fuel for his actions. Hell, we don’t know for sure that that’s what happened.”

  “Yeah.” She winces and sniffs. “We do, Jack.”

  I sigh and lean in to kiss her forehead. God, she smells good.

  “I messed up, sweets,” I admit in a low voice. “I messed up really bad, and I regret it more than I can tell you. I’m so sorry that I hurt you. More than that, I’m sorry that I lost your trust.”

  She swallows hard but doesn’t deny it.

  “I don’t want to start over,” I continue softly. “I don’t want to do that because it would basically negate everything we had before, and it was damn good before, Daph.”

  She grins. “We were babies.”

  “Maybe so, but it was still great. The best thing that ever happened to me. So, I don’t want to start over. But I do want to begin again.”

  “Oh, Jack, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I know that it means you’ll have to trust me. And maybe you’re not ready for that yet. But I’ll earn it. In the meantime, I want to get to know you better. I want to just be with you, sweets.”

  “Every single time you called me that before,” she admits softly, “it turned my knees to Jell-O. You always used to give me butterflies.”

  I step closer, dragging my fingertips up and down her arm. “Is that only in the past tense?”

  “I’m not telling you all my secrets, Jackson Pruitt.”

  I laugh, enjoying everything about her.

  “Fair enough. Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Like, on a date?”

  “Hell, yes. On a date.”

  She seems to mull it over and then shrugs. “Okay. But I want to wear a fancy dress and heels and drink champagne.”

  “Expensive date, it is.” I laugh when she waggles her eyebrows. “You always did like to dress up.”

  “I still do. If there was a market for antique clothing, I’d sell it.”

  “There isn’t?”

  “Not really. It’s a very niche market, so I leave it to others and just focus on furniture.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six. Should I get you here or at the shop?”

  “Here,” she says with a small smile. “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you.” I kiss her forehead again and then make myself back away. “I’d better go. If you need anything, or if anything happens, call me.”

  “Okay.”

  She walks me to the door and is still watching me drive away when I take off down the street.

  Instead of driving back to Oliver’s for the night, I detour to Lucien and Millie’s place in the Garden District.

  Their house is big and old, and if what they told me the other night is true, they lived in it in a previous life.

  Who am I to say it isn’t true? I’ve seen some crazy things in this life.

  I climb the stairs and knock on the door, but as soon as my knuckles hit the wood, it opens, and Millie grins at me.

  “Did you know I was coming?”

  “I’m psychic, remember?” She laughs at my blank look. “Kidding. No, I didn’t know you were coming, but I saw your lights when you pulled in. Is Daph with you?”

  “No, I just left her. And I don’t know what made me come over here, other than I’m restless and want to talk.”

  “Then come on in.”
She steps back, and just as I walk inside, Lucien descends their grand staircase. He’s in a T-shirt and shorts, his hair a mess, and he pushes his black-rimmed glasses up his nose.

  “Hey, Jack.”

  “Hi.”

  “Jack’s lovesick and wanted to come over to talk about Daphne.”

  “I, uh…” I scowl and push my hand through my hair. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  Millie laughs and takes my hand, tugging me into a library off the foyer and offering me a seat.

  “Holy shit, that’s a lot of books.”

  “A lot,” Millie agrees as Lucien pours a snifter of brandy and passes it to me.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Lucien asks as he sits with a glass of his own. “You didn’t come here just to say hello.”

  “No, I didn’t.” I lean my elbows on my knees and stare down into the brandy. “I love her.”

  Millie smiles serenely, and Lucien waits as if there’s more to be said.

  “That’s it.”

  “Is there a problem?” Lucien asks. “Of course, you love her. She’s meant for you.”

  “Is she? Or is this part of the game?” I look up at both of them, then stand and pace the room. “Am I being manipulated by this piece of shit?”

  “Do you honestly think that what you feel for her isn’t real?” Millie demands with a scowl. “Good grief, Jack, you’ve been in love with her for years. Why would what’s happening now change that?”

  “Maybe I’m crazy,” I mutter, shaking my head. “And I know I sound like an asshole. I don’t mean to. I had a great day with Daphne today, and we cleared the air about a lot of things. I’m even taking her out tomorrow for dinner.”

  “That’s so awesome,” Millie says and claps her hands.

  “But I want to know that everything I’m feeling, everything that’s happening between Daphne and me, is because we’re genuinely feeling this way and not because Horace is fucking with us.”

  “I get it,” Lucien says with a nod. “And I can put your mind at ease. If anything, he’d want you apart, not together. You’re stronger together. If the six of us are in the same place, it hurts him. So, he’s not going to try to make you fall in love with her. He’ll do his best to break you apart.”

  I sigh in relief and sit back down.

  “Wow, you were really worried,” Millie says.

  “Yeah. Because Daphne and I have been through enough crap, you know? If we’re going to be together, I don’t want anything interfering in that.”

  “He’s going to mess with your head,” Lucien warns me. “He loves smoke and mirrors. He’ll play with you, and he’ll take delight in it. But you know what’s true. You know how you feel about each other.”

  “Yeah. Shit’s about to get really crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Millie’s face sobers with her answer.

  Lucien’s phone rings.

  “It’s Cash.” He answers, and his green eyes go cold. “Damn. Let’s get everyone here. Jack’s here already. Yeah, I’ll call Daphne.”

  He hangs up and taps his phone screen.

  “Hey, Daph. I need you to come to our house, please. They found her.”

  “They found her?” I repeat when Lucien hangs up the phone.

  “I’ll put some tea on,” Millie announces and hurries out of the library toward what I assume is the kitchen.

  “Before the others get here, I’m going to give you something.” Lucien shifts some books around and then selects one and passes it to me.

  “This is a spellbook,” I say as I flip through the pages.

  “It is, yes.”

  “Working spells isn’t my gift.”

  “I know that, but I want you to take it. You have magic, Jack.”

  I start to shake my head, but Lucien continues.

  “You have magic. You know how to work it. I want you to cast some protection spells around Oliver and Annabelle’s house. To keep you all safe. If they’ll join you, all the better.”

  “I’ll take it,” I reply just as a knock sounds on the door.

  Cash and Brielle hurry into the library, followed by Daphne, who stops short when she sees me.

  “How’d you get here so fast from Oliver’s?”

  “I was here when Cash called,” I reply. “I came over to chat a bit.”

  “I want everyone to drink some of this tea,” Millie announces, carrying a tray.

  “Of course, you do,” Daphne says with a sigh. “Can’t we have coffee?”

  “No, tea is better.” Millie passes the cups around.

  “Where was she found?” I ask Cash, cutting to the chase.

  “In her home.” He sips the tea and then scowls at it. “Christ, Mill, does it have to taste like shit?”

  “Where did she live?” Daphne asks.

  “Baton Rouge,” Cash replies. “And as of right now, it’s been ruled a suicide. She got in the bathtub and dropped her blow-dryer in with her.”

  “Oh, Goddess,” Millie whispers, shaking her head. “That’s awful.”

  “And it wasn’t a suicide,” I add.

  “We know that,” Cash says. “But I can’t get the cops in Baton Rouge to listen to me. They think I’m nuts. And I can’t blame them. It sounds crazy.”

  He stands and paces the room.

  “Were her eyes missing?” I ask.

  “No.” Cash turns and shakes his head. “Her eyes are intact.”

  “He doctored the photo,” Brielle says. “Or conjured it out of thin air.”

  “It’s what he wants us to see,” Lucien says. “It’s all about the eyes this time around.”

  “Why?” I demand.

  “Because Daphne has the sight,” Millie reminds me. “It’s his sick gift to her.”

  I feel sick to my stomach and rub my hand over my mouth.

  “Isn’t that lovely?” Daphne’s voice is dry and angry. “Sick son of a bitch. Somehow, he made her kill herself.”

  “That’s my take on it, too,” Lucien says, nodding.

  “This doesn’t help us,” Brielle says with frustration.

  “He never helps,” Millie reminds her. “He taunts us.”

  “So, what do we do now?” I ask. “Do we just sit back and wait?”

  Lucien’s nod is grim. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Well, hell.”

  * * *

  I’ve been studying the book that Lucien sent home with me last night and even cast a few spells at Oliver’s place. I’m not a powerful witch, but every little bit helps.

  Now it’s time to set this aside and enjoy the evening with Daphne. I’ve been thinking about her all day, too, and about what I said last night at Millie and Lucien’s. No one is making me feel the way I do about her. I love her because I’ve always loved her. I took one look at her when I was so stupidly young and knew without a doubt that she was it for me.

  Nothing this asshole does can change that.

  I pull up to Daphne’s apartment, knowing that I’m early.

  I couldn’t wait to see her.

  I jog up the steps in my slacks and jacket, and when she opens the door, all irritation leaves her eyes when she sees the flowers in my hands.

  “You’re early.” But there’s no censure when she takes the flowers and buries her nose in them.

  “I know. I wanted to see you.”

  “Well, come on in. I’m still putting on my makeup.”

  I follow her back to her bathroom, and just as I used to do before, I hop onto the countertop and watch her apply her makeup.

  “We used to do this all the time,” I murmur and lift a tube of mascara, studying it.

  “And you’d make me laugh and mess up,” she says with a snort. “You big jerk.”

  “You loved it.”

  “No way. I wasted a lot of makeup. Do you know how expensive this stuff is?”

  I just smile at her in the mirror, and she goes back to brushing something pink onto her cheeks.

  “You don’t need the makeup. You
’re gorgeous without it.”

  “I like it.” She sets down the brush and starts on her eyes. “What did you do today?”

  “I studied.”

  That surprises her enough to have her gaze flying to meet mine. “What are you studying?”

  “Lucien gave me a book last night.” I shrug a shoulder. “How was work today?”

  “Good. Great, actually. Some new pieces arrived that I’m in love with, and I finally sold a sofa that I’ve had for several years. It just needed the right buyer.”

  She grins, examines her handiwork in the mirror, and then rushes into the bedroom to change her clothes.

  “Stay in there!” she calls out.

  “Okay.” I fiddle with a brush, listening to her rustling around. And then she comes to the door of the bathroom and does a little turn.

  My mouth goes dry.

  “Holy crap.” I swallow hard and take her in. Her red hair is sleek and wavy, and her blue dress hugs every delectable curve. I hop off the counter. “Come here.”

  “Did I forget something?”

  She wanders into the room. I turn her away from me to face the mirror as I stand behind her and meet her eyes in the glass.

  “You are every dream I’ve ever had.” I kiss the ball of her shoulder and slide my hand over her stomach. “Every wish. Jesus, you’re all I think about. And when I was overseas, going through hell on Earth, it was the thought of your sweet face that got me through each day.”

  “Jack.” She whispers my name and raises her hand to cup my cheek. “You got really romantic in your old age.”

  I smile against the tender flesh of her neck.

  “I should have said all of this and more years ago. I should have come home and fought for you. Apologized.”

  “It’s happening the way it’s meant to.” She turns in my arms to face me. “I always hate it when Millie or Miss Sophia says that, but it’s true, Jack. This is how our story was meant to go. At least, we made it back around to the good stuff.”

  I grin and lean in to gently rub my lips over hers. She inhales and pushes her fingers into my hair, holding on as I kiss her slowly, remembering every touch, every sigh.

  And just as my hands rise to cup her cheeks, the mirror above the sink falls and shatters into a million pieces.