The Ex Hex (Ex Hex #1)(70)

Sitting up higher in the bed, Rhys dug the heel of his free hand into one eye. “No, I’m not, I just woke up, and—”

“Why would you answer a video call naked?”

“Why would you attach a badger to your face?”

For a moment, the two brothers glared at each other through their respective phones, and then a smile cracked through all that beard. “It is kind of out of control, isn’t it?” he asked, rubbing his jaw.

“It needs its own post code, mate,” Rhys replied, but he was smiling, too. Bowen, was, like Wells, a right pain in the arse a lot of the time, but it was also good to see him, even if he had grown the world’s most terrifying beard.

“Wells told me you fucked up,” Bowen said, to the point as always. “Got yourself cursed.”

“It’s a long story,” Rhys warned, but Bowen only grunted, pulling the phone back to show Rhys the desolate mountainside he was sitting on.

“I could use the entertainment.”

So Rhys told him, all of it, starting with the summer nine years ago, ending with Vivienne walking out of his house in tears last night.

When he was done, Bowen was frowning, but since that was one of Bowen’s default expressions, Rhys wasn’t that concerned.

“She’s right,” he finally said. “About you never taking shite seriously.”

“That’s not true,” Rhys objected. “I take lots of shite seriously. My business. Her. I would take you seriously, but I can’t because of that beard.”

“See, that’s what I mean,” Bowen said, pointing at the phone with one finger. “Always taking the piss, making jokes. You say she doesn’t trust you, but how can she when you act like nothing matters to you? Like it’s all a big fucking lark?”

Rhys blinked. “Have you started giving free therapy to sheep up there, Bowen?”

Bowen’s scowl deepened, and Rhys held up a hand in surrender. “Right, right, I get it, I’m doing it again.”

He didn’t know how to explain to Bowen, a man who had always said exactly what he was thinking in the bluntest way possible, that it was easier for him to dodge and weave, not to let anyone know things ever got to him. To live life right on the surface and not worry about getting too deep.

But the thing was, he was already in too deep. He was in love with Vivienne. Had, he was beginning to realize, never stopped loving her. That summer hadn’t just been a fling—it had been the real deal.

And he’d fucked it up. Just like he was fucking it up now.

“Tell her how you feel,” Bowen said now. “Be honest. Oh, and also don’t die tonight.”

“Thanks,” Rhys said with a rueful smile. “Take care of yourself up there. And shave.”

Bowen flipped him off, but he was grinning as they hung up, and Rhys got out of bed feeling a little bit better.

He just needed to see Vivienne and tell her the truth. Tell her he was head over heels for her, and that yes, tonight scared him shitless, but he trusted her.

The issue was how to tell her. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing one declared over text. He’d go to her aunt’s, tell her there.

But when he drove down the mountain and knocked on Elaine’s door, she was the only one there.

Well, her and the cat.

As soon as Elaine opened the door, the little furry bastard looked up at Rhys and very succinctly said, “Dickbag.”

“I defended you the other night, mate,” Rhys said, shaking a finger at Sir Purrcival. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Elaine chuckled at that, leaning down to scoop up the cat, but she didn’t invite Rhys in, and when she looked him over, he felt like she could see into his soul.

“You’re here to tell Vivi you love her,” she finally said, and he nodded.

“Along with some other things, yes, but that’s the main one. But since she doesn’t appear to be here, I’ll just pop over to—”

“Rhys.”

Elaine laid a hand on his arm, and for the first time, he noticed that she had the same hazel eyes as Vivienne. Those eyes were kind now, but Rhys knew he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say.

“She’s already home, getting ready for tonight. The magic she needs to do is . . . it’s more than she’s ever done before. Honestly, it’s more than I’ve ever done before, and it takes preparation. You can’t disturb that.”

Rhys felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

He was too late.

It seemed like he was always too fucking late.

“Right,” he said, making himself smile at Elaine. “Definitely not.”

Elaine squeezed his arm. “Tell her after.”

“I will,” he replied, even as unease crawled along his spine.

Assuming I’m still around after, I will.



The bath wasn’t helping.

Again.

At least this time, as Vivi sat in the tub, up to her chin in hot water, surrounded by candles, there was no vodka in sight. And she wasn’t conjuring up Rhys’s face or the scent of his cologne. She wasn’t even sniffling.

Really, a big improvement over her last Heartbreak Bath.

So why did she feel so much worse?

She knew the answer to that—because this time, the heartbreak felt so much bigger, and the task that loomed ahead of her was terrifying. Aunt Elaine was the best, strongest witch Vivi knew, and even she had never attempted something like this. And now Vivi, whose most-used spell was reheating her tea without a microwave, was going to summon up a long-dead spirit and demand it reverse a curse.