Page 21 of Summertime Hexy
I keep flipping. There are spell diagrams, scribbled ideas for magical inventions, half-baked runes with enthusiastic commentary likedefinitely will not explode!next to them.
Then a page with a single sentence.
I want to be something worth keeping.
I stare at it.
The words blur a little.
Not crying.
Nope.
Just… pollen. Or maybe magical side effects. Or I’m cursed.
Yeah. Definitely cursed.
I snap the book closed and rest my chin on my knees, curling up like I can fold myself small enough to forget who I used to be.
The Grove rustles quietly around me. Wind in the leaves. Distant sounds of camp behind me—kids yelling, spells going off, laughter. All of it feelsfar.
I’m so caught up in my own storm that I don’t hear him until he’s already beside me.
Derek.
No sound, no announcement. Just the gentle shift of air and the unmistakable scent of leather and ancient woodsmoke that somehow always clings to him like an afterthought.
I glance sideways, startled.
He doesn’t look at me.
Just sits there. Legs long in front of him, arms draped over his knees, expression unreadable.
“Stalking me now?” I ask, voice dry. “You’re terrible at it.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide,” he says.
“I didn’t ask for company.”
“You didn’tnotask.”
That earns him a slow, side-eye squint. “You’re really leaning into the cryptic vampire thing, huh?”
He shrugs.
We sit in silence.
But it’s not awkward.
It’s… present.
He doesn’t press. Doesn’t ask what I’m holding. Doesn’t push for a conversation. Justsits. Solid. Quiet. Steady.
And I hate how much thathelps.
“How long were you watching me?” I ask eventually, not looking at him.
“Long enough.”
