Cresent Prophecy by Axelle Chandler (sad books to read TXT) 📗

said, waving her hand at me. “What about you? You don’t still love him do you?”

“Who? Alex? No!” I immediately fired back. “It never got to that point! He dumped me, remember?”

“Seems like he thinks he’s made a mistake. What about Boone?”

“He’s stormed off someplace,” I said, beginning to feel exhausted by all the drama. “I want him, Maggie. Only him, but something isn’t right. It’s not Alex… It’s something else.”

“Then you need to talk to him about it.”

“It’s like beating my head against a brick wall… Speaking of.” I turned to face the wall, braced my hands against the whitewashed walls and reared my head back.

“Don’t do that,” Maggie said, tugging me away. “You’ll give yourself a blindin’ headache.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“Go home to bed,” she said kindly. “Let those fools sulk for the night, and tomorrow, go find Boone and talk to him.” There was a crash inside, and she groaned. “That’ll be Sean ‘helping’ right the tables.” She air quoted and rolled her eyes. “I better go back inside, or he’ll make the mess worse.”

“I thought Alex…” I frowned.

“Aye, he mopped the floor.” She shooed me away. “Off with you. I’ll call you tomorrow, and, Skye? Don’t worry about anythin’. Boone’s sulkin’ now, but I see the way he looks at you, and I see the way you look at him. You’ll work it out.”

Watching her disappear into the pub and begin shrieking at Sean, I hoped she was right.

I didn’t know what I would do without Boone.

Chapter 6

The next morning dawned, and like the weather knew my heart was melancholy, a thick fog clung to the landscape.

Summer was well and truly over now. The days were shorter, and a chill was beginning to seep into the country air, signaling autumn had well and truly taken hold. Leaves were turning bright shades of yellow, orange, and red, falling from branches and littering the ground. School kids kicked piles of them into the air as they ran for the bus at the end of the main road, vexing Mrs. Boyle no end. Considering her broom had morphed into a rake, they should have been in fear for their lives, but were faster on their feet than the old woman was.

It was a short walk from my cottage to Irish Moon, but I still didn’t chance it without a jacket. Today, it didn’t help to keep the cold away, and I shivered as I made the trek to work.

Rounding the corner onto the main road, I skidded to a halt when I almost smacked into Sean McKinnon. He was standing just around the corner, and when he glared like I’d kicked his kitten, I knew he’d been waiting to see me. I was about to cop an earful…and to think I’d used my power to calm his aching heart that night I found him drunk in the gutter outside Molly McCreedy’s! Even if I weren’t aware I’d been doing it, I would never do it again.

I looked over his messy hair, flannel shirt, and dirty-at-the-knees jeans and scowled.

“Have at it then,” I drawled. “Give me a piece of your addled mind.”

“Boone’s miserable, and it’s all your fault,” he declared. “He was perfectly happy before you came along. You ruined him.”

I gasped dramatically. “Take that back!”

“No! I cannae! You’re the witch who led him on and broke his heart!” Sean thumped his chest. “I know a man in pain when I see one. Is gan í bheith.”

“What does that mean?” I demanded, feeling my face turn red in annoyance.

“Forlorn,” Sean stated, puffing out his chest.

Forlorn… My heart twisted as the word conjured up an image of the craglorn. The ravaged and the lonely.

“You leave him alone, Skye Williams,” he went on. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” I pouted and stared him down, not afraid of Sean McKinnon, the town drunk. He was a drunk because he hadn’t managed to get over the death of his wife, Juliette, so it was mean of me to insult him like that, but I was angry. No one had any idea what Boone and I shared. No one.

“You’ll see,” he said mysteriously, then ambled off like he hadn’t just threatened me with a pox on my house.

My mouth fell open, and I bristled with rage as he wandered down the footpath and climbed into his little red Toyota—the car Boone and I had borrowed for our journey to Croagh Patrick months ago—and revved the engine like a hooligan.

There were footsteps behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Lucy had arrived just in time to catch the last of Sean’s spectacular one-sided argument.

“What happened?” she asked, watching Sean spin his tires and roar down the road toward Roy’s farm.

“Boone got into a fist fight with Alex at the pub last night. Sean is all bent over it.”

“Seriously?” Her eyes widened. “Two hot men were fighting over you?”

“It’s not as cool as it sounds,” I said, turning to unlock the shop. “At this point, I’m about ready to hand them over to someone else. You can have them if you want.”

“Why is Sean gettin’ involved?”

“Sean and Boone are best mates,” I explained. “They couldn’t be any more different, but for some reason only they know, they’re buddies.”

Opening the door, I held it ajar for Lucy, and she stepped inside.

“They say opposites attract,” she offered.

“I’ll say.”

“Things are still shaky with you two?”

I nodded and thought about the Three of Swords, my heart stinging with matching phantom stab wounds.

“It’ll work out,” Lucy offered kindly. “Life always goes in ebbs and flows. Maybe you can draw another tarot card?”

“Maybe,” I replied, turning on the lights.

As we settled into our routine for the day, Lucy following the list Mairead had written in her employee handbook, I sat behind the counter and shuffled my tarot cards. Drawing a card from the top, I narrowed my eyes when I saw my old buddy the Three of Swords rear its ugly head. Shuffling again, I drew from