“I don’t think so.” She sighs. “The only thing keeping us going right now is that people actually want to see books flying around on their own.”
Devlin’s voice is filled with concern. “What’s happening?”
There’s a swish of clothing—Mama sitting in the chair. “Our magic is so broken I don’t know how to fix it, even temporarily. We went through this before Addison married.”
“I didn’t act fast enough,” Devlin murmurs.
What?
“It’s not your fault, son,” Dad says. “Luckily they caught the truck driver and are putting up a magical barrier to stop any other vehicles from appearing in the middle of the road.”
Why did Devlin say that he hadn’t acted fast enough? He didn’t propose to me just to save the bookshop, did he?
No way. No. Certainly not. Devlin would never do anything like that. He proposed because he loves me and I love him. It has nothing to do with the fact that my family’s magic is obviously cracked wide open and Devlin would do anything to make me happy including marrying me before he was ready.
Right?
“The magic,” Devlin says. “How bad is it?”
I can just picture Mama rubbing her head with worry. “It’s unbelievable.”
“Why didn’t Blair tell me?”
“Because she wouldn’t want you to worry.”
“You need your rest.” It sounds like Dad claps Devlin on the shoulder. “Even if it’s just for a few hours. We’ll watch over her and let you know if anything changes.”
No, no, I don’t want Devlin to go. Maybe I can communicate with them, flutter my eyelids or move a finger—my ring finger, and show my mom that sparkling gem.
Oh wow. I must be really drugged up if I’m thinking about gemstones and not trying to wake up.
I focus on trying to move my pinkie.Is anything happening? Hello? Does anyone see my pinkie moving?
“About the bookshop”—it’s Devlin again—“maybe there’s a way that I can help.”
I can practically hear my mom shrug. “How can you do that?”
I can just see him smiling tiredly. “I’m an inventor, aren’t I?”
He gets up from the chair. Devlin touches my hand, and his skin feels so good, like I’ve been starved of human contact for my entire life until just now. I try so hard to reach for him, but I’m locked down tight—every single muscle. They’re not obeying.
I’ve got to break through this wall.
“What are you going to do?” Dad asks.
Devlin’s voice rumbles, sounding fatigued. “Give me a few hours and I’ll figure something out to help the bookshop, and I’ll go home to do it.”
“You need a break,” Dad says with sympathy.
A knock sounds from the door. “Oh good, I’m glad everyone’s here.”
It’s a very masculine voice.
“Dr. Jones,” Mama says. “Any change to my daughter’s prognosis?”
“Maybe we should talk outside,” he replies.
That can’t be good.
