Page 12 of Heal Me

Back at my apartment, I snuggle with Doogie as I flip through my new witchcraft book Aubry gave me. Chapter One’s all about a witch’s book of shadows.

“Book of shadows,” I say, eyeing the new journal I picked up the other day. It’s a beautiful leather-bound book with the tree of life carved into it, with the seven chakra stones adorning the branches. My therapist recommended I start journaling, and so I bought several options, including this one. “What do you think, Doogie? Is this my book of shadows?”

I flip to the dedication page and write, Charlotte’s Book of Shadows.

Feeling like a bit of a fraud, I close it and grab my textbook, getting back to my world.

Chapter 6

Charlotte

I glance at my watch. Oh no. I should have left with the rest of my study group. Instead, I chose to stay at the library just a few minutes longer, and a few minutes turned into an hour. It’s late and I’m going to have to walk to my car by myself. I will not have another panic attack, I tell myself. If I have a panic attack, then I’ll be completely helpless in the dark parking lot. It’d be so easy for someone to attack me and throw me in their trunk, just like Brad did.

Feeling a heaviness in my chest and an increase in my heart rate, I know I’m about to spiral. I take a few deep, steadying breaths, focusing on my safe place that my therapist and I have been working on with Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy.

After a few minutes, the panic subsides, and I feel brave enough to gather my books and notebook. I stick my phone in my back pocket and hold my pepper spray keychain at the ready. “I can do this. No big deal,” I tell myself quietly.

Walking through the deserted library and out the main entrance, I stop dead in my tracks. “What are you doing here?” I don’t mean the question to come out sounding so rude, but it does anyway. I’m trying not to break out in cold sweats, and the only thing keeping me from getting on my knees and begging Gabe to walk me to my car is my pride.

“Oh, hello. We didn’t get a proper introduction the other day. I’m Gabe Jennings,” he says with an easy smile.

“Charlotte Patel,” I tell him, shifting from one foot to the other. I’m not sure which makes me more nervous—walking to my car alone, or being this close to the sexiest man alive.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he says, my mind hanging up on the way the word “pleasure” rolls off his tongue. “I met a potential witness in one of my cases,” he says, jotting something down on a legal pad and then placing it in a fancy leather briefcase. “May I walk you to your car?”

“Sure. I’m over in Lot B. Where are you parked?” I play it cool, but want to do a little happy dance that I don’t have to walk this dark night alone. Unless I’m trading one problem for another? Something about Gabe makes me…I don’t know…nervous? On edge? I’m not quite sure. And after being kidnapped by an energy vampire, I’m paying much more attention to the energy of those around me.

“I’m waiting on my ride.”

“You don’t have a car?”

“I do, but I didn’t drive myself this evening.” He seems amused by his own answer, but I’m not sure why.

Surprising me, he takes the books and notebook from my arms. “You know that I could carry those,” I tell him.

“I know, but I’m going to carry them for you anyway,” Gabe replies in his thick southern accent. I was raised in Boston until my mom and dad divorced when I was nine, and then Mom and I moved to a Memphis suburb called Germantown to live with my grandmother and grandfather. So while I have just a slight southern accent, it’s nothing compared to Gabe’s beautiful Mississippi drawl.

“You said you were meeting with a witness. So you’re a lawyer?” I ask, even though Aubry already told me as much. Sneaking a side glance at him, his commanding height makes my five feet, four inches seem that much shorter. He has a serious look to him this evening. Or that could be his normal demeanor, as again, I don’t know this man.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did your meeting go well?” He’s dressed the part of a lawyer, in an expensive-looking navy suit with a purple-and-white pinstripe tie.

He gives me a smile I can’t interpret. “I’m not sure yet.”

“And you know Aubry through Damion?”

“Yes.”

“So you and Damion are?” I’m not sure how to finish that question.

“Law partners and friends.”

I stop walking and give him a hard look. “Are you a demon like your friend?” Surely Aubry would have led with that fact if it were true.

“Most certainly not,” he answers haughtily. I let out a sigh of relief as we resume walking.

We pass a guy wearing a black T-shirt and skullcap, and he gives us a nod. Had I been alone, passing him would have likely pushed me over the edge.

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