Page 23 of Just Like That

She nodded. “I know. I just can’t help but feel like I’m failing her.”

I tilted my head toward her. “Your sister?”

Hazel’s elbows rested on her knees, and she twined her fingers out in front of her. “Yeah, Olive was always the strong one. So centered and sure of herself. She would do anything to get ahead, no matter what life threw at her. I didn’t even know she was sick.”

Jesus, that’s rough.

I hummed, hoping my vague acknowledgment kept her talking. I liked the sound of her voice in the darkness.

“We were close, even though I was traveling a lot. It was just the two of us growing up. Our mom was a single mom and she died several years ago ... the same ovarian cancer that took Olive, ironically.”

“Fuck.” I wiped my hand over my mouth.

“Yeah ... yay genetics!” Her joke landed flat in the darkness, and a heavy sadness rolled over her shoulders as she slumped. Hazel picked at her coral nail polish. “I found out that I have the same genetic mutation, which means I have to decide to risk the same fate or—” Hazel made a squelching sound and made a removal gesture from her belly outward. “No babies for me. Having kids wasn’t even on my radar, and now I feel like I have to make major, life-altering decisions.”

I fought the uncontrollable urge to wrap my arms around her and hold her. In the pale light, her vulnerability flickered, and I was a moth to the flame. My hand flexed to keep from giving in.

Between the two of us, there was no doubt in my mind who was better equipped to be a parent.

I had never had kids, but I saw the joy my sister Sylvie got from being a mother. I also deeply understood how the loss of choice was a tough pill to swallow. In the moonlight Hazel looked so young—too young to have to worry about things like cancer and infertility issues.

“That ...” I fumbled to find the right words.

“Sucks,” she said.

We shared a sad laugh. “Yeah, it does. I’m sorry.” It was hard not to feel her sadness at having lost her mother and sister. When my mother was taken from me, I was only five, and I had very few actual memories of her. My entire childhood was tainted by my father insisting that she had abandoned us. That she didn’t love us enough to stay. I hadn’t mourned the loss of my mother—I’d hated her for it.

It hit me that Teddy wasn’t that much older when he lost his own mother, only he had Hazel to remind him how loved he was and who the person his mother was. Because of Hazel, he wouldn’t have to suffer like I had.

My voice was gravelly and thick. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Hazel sniffed. She pulled her hands under her chin, resting her face in them, and looked at me. “Even though I’m a witch?”

A sharp arrow pierced my heart.Me and my damn mouth.

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Even if you are a witch.”

She harrumphed, but smiled. For a beat we stared at each other. Temptation scratched my thoughts and a hit of possibilities looped in my brain.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

With a stifled yawn, Hazel stood, giving me a clear view of just how thin her pale-yellow nightgown was, and my jaw tightened.

The breeze shifted, molding the thin fabric to her body, clinging to the V between her legs. Beneath the fabric, I could just barely make out the outline of what looked like nipple piercings. My cock instantly sprang to life, perking up at that new, tempting detail. Every inch of me stiffened. The outline of her full breasts taunted me. My hands begged to feel their fullness.

Her exhale thrummed in her throat. “You know, when you’re not trying to be an uptight asshole, you’re really not so bad.”

I stood next to her. The front of her billowing pajamas tickled my bare chest, and I became acutely aware of the inches that separated us. Our mouths were close—too close. It had been an eternity since I’d kissed a woman, and I hated myself for even imagining what Hazel’s mouth would feel like on mine.

My eyes dipped to her lips, and I heard her quick inhale.

Fuck, she smells good.

It would be wrong—and so fucking complicated. Hazel had just poured her heart out to me and was likely feeling really vulnerable. Not to mention she was under the impression I’d gotten her sister pregnant. Her nephew called meDad, for Christ’s sake.

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