Page 22 of Bewitched By the Wicked Witch
I shushed him before he could suggest I rid myself of the machine, as he called it, and took Callum for a ride instead. My face burned hotter than a cauldron at full boil, and my brain short-circuited between 'Oh sweet goddess, he's thought about me that way' and 'I'm going to turn my familiar into a throw pillow.' I needed to change the subject before I gave into his pleas, his words and all those long buried emotions that now tried to break through the stone barrier I'd built around my dark, broken heart.
I gave him a warning glare. And if cats could smirk knowingly, I'd swear he did just then.
I took several long, deep, steady breaths before I finally responded. "Why are you at my door, Callum?"
Callum peered around me at my sparse and tiny hut and lifted a single dark blond brow. "You don't really live here."
"Of course I do," I muttered, pretending to be offended that he thought my living space was paltry.
"You forget, Sage, I remember you talking about building underground with a decoy house. I helped you form the idea." He smirked, his eyes softening as they held mine. "I know everything about you. Nothing can change that."
"People change," I growled. "I've changed. You don't know me. No, better yet, you don't deserve to know me!" I practically yelled, realizing my emotions were getting the best of me, so I pressed my lips together and shook my head, refusing to look at him before my shoulders slumped. The memory of his heartbreak hitting me full force once again. "Hecate," I muttered. "It doesn't matter. Go away."
I tried to slam the door in his face, but his shoe shot out, stopping the door from shutting. "I need to talk to you about what's going on. We don't have to talk about us…" His lips pressed tightly together as if he wanted to argue with himself before he continued, "...if you don't want to."
With a deep breath, I swung the door open and stood aside, fully aware that this was a terrible idea. But with Cosmo at my side, ready to pounce on any sign of trouble, I felt a false sense of security. My stomach churned with unease as I turned to face Callum, refusing to meet his gaze. Desperately trying to quell my inner turmoil, I ran a trembling hand through my hair, knowing deep down that this was a mistake. Every fiber of my being shouted at me to kick him out, lock the door, and hide away to protect what little remained of my heart. But despite mybetter judgment, my heart betrayed me. It yearned to tie him up and never let him go. I was utterly screwed, and I knew it.
Callum followed me into the small hut, his broad shoulders barely fitting through the narrow doorway. The space felt more cramped with his tall frame taking up the room. I tried to ignore the way his recognizable scent enveloped me, stirring up memories I'd rather keep buried.
"Cozy," he remarked, glancing around at the sparse furnishings. I turned, lifting the hidden panel to unlock the back door. With my eye scan and magic imprint, the door hummed, signaling the elevator was ready. I opened the door and waited for the elevator doors to open with Callum at my back.
I knew without looking he had a dumb, knowing grin on his face.
We both walked into the elevator, squeezing in with Cosmo, who refused to downsize to his cat size. Callum's body was far too close to mine.
"Oh, look, there is a hidden elevator. How clever. You were always far too smart for everyone else. Though a word of advice, the hut upstairs needs to look more lived in to be believable."
He was right, and that rubbed me the wrong way. I turned to him, showing him my irritation, and rolled my eyes. "Cut the small talk, Callum. What do you want?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. A nervous tell that I remembered all too well. "I told you, I'm here about the missing girls. The council sent me to investigate."
"And let me guess, I'm suspect number one on their list?" I crossed my arms, feeling the frost creeping back into my tone. "The evil witch must be behind it all, right?"
Callum's green eyes met mine, an earnest expression on his face. "I don't believe that, Sage. I never have. But I need your help to figure out what's really going on."
I scoffed. "Why should I help you? In case you forgot, we're not exactly on the best of terms these days."
Pain flickered across his features before he schooled them back into a neutral mask. I noticed his fingers unconsciously touching something on his wrist, hidden beneath his sleeve. Was that a mark? "I know I hurt you, and I'll regret that every day for the rest of my life," he said. "But this isn't about us. It's about those innocent girls. They need our help."
Cosmo chose that moment to slink between us, his star-flecked gaze assessing Callum coolly. "I don't trust him," he declared, tail swishing. "One wrong move and I'll turn him into my new scratching post."
A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. Leave it to Cosmor to have my back, even against my ex. I reached down to scratch behind Cosmo's ears. "Stand down, fur ball. For now."
"Oh, Cosmo, we used to be best friends. Remember the sticky buns. We'll always have the sticky buns, Cos." Callum reached to rub Cosmo's ears, only to snatch his hand back when Cosmo snapped his large fangs, nearly catching his hand between his powerful jaws. But he smirked at him as if he was cute, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a... wait, was that a sticky bun?
"Sticky bun days were over when you hurt my Sage."Cosmo turned his nose up at Callum and the sticky bun. Something I knew without a doubt would be hard for him to do. I wanted to snuggle the damn cat for his loyalty. Though Cosmo would never allow it.
"I brought this too," Callum said, letting a slow, sad grin stretch across his lips. My gaze shifted to the stone in his hand. To anyone else, it was a dumb rock. But to us, it had been an adventure.
That was the rock we'd spent three days searching for in the abandoned quarry outside Millfield, scrambling over loose shale and weathered limestone until our hands were scraped raw. I could still remember the way Callum had insisted we keep looking even when the sun was setting on the second day, how he'd pulled out his grandfather's mining headlamp and declared we were "real treasure hunters now." We'd camped under the stars, sharing lukewarm coffee from his thermos and arguing over which formation was most likely to hide the quartz cluster his geology professor had described.
When we'd finally found it, wedged between two boulders in a crevice I'd almost missed, Callum had whooped so loud it echoed off the quarry walls. We'd chipped away the outer layers together, taking turns with his rock hammer until the milky quartz crystals caught the morning light like captured starlight.
"I love you," he'd said as we sat there covered in rock dust, the crystal between us. The first time either of us had said those words.
"I love you too," I'd whispered back, and meant it with every fiber of my being.
But it wasn't the magic-channeling quartz that made therock special. It had been our time together searching for it. and those three little words that would later destroy me.
