The small coastal town had always whispered about you and your family—the way the wind seemed to carry your name, the flowers that bloomed a little too perfectly in your garden, the way some people claimed to see flickers of candlelight through your windows at all hours of the night. But you had spent years trying to live a normal life, to distance yourself from the magic that ran through your veins.

And then Ron arrived.

He wasn’t like the others in town. Where most people watched you with wary glances, Ron met your eyes without hesitation. He was a detective, sent to investigate something—or someone—but he lingered longer than necessary, asking too many questions, looking at you like he already knew the answer.

Standing in your shop, he ran a hand through his messy red hair, glancing around at the shelves of herbal remedies and handcrafted soaps. “You don’t believe in all that nonsense, do you?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

You met his gaze, trying to ignore the way your heart picked up speed. “What nonsense?”

“The curses, the magic, all of it,” he said, studying you carefully.

You wanted to tell him no, that you didn’t believe in it, that you had sworn off spells and potions years ago. But the way your pulse raced in his presence, the way your breath hitched when his fingers accidentally brushed yours—it felt an awful lot like magic.

And deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Ron was the answer to a spell you had cast a long, long time ago.