“Can we talk?” My request came out rushed, as if the words themselves worried that I wouldn’t utter them. “I need to explain.” It was tempting to purge everything right there and then to babble and ramble like I was prone to do. I wanted to do this right, however, so I gestured over my shoulder. “It’s a nice night. Want to go for a walk with me?”
Micah nodded, and disappeared into the house, no doubt warning Holly that if she dared to step a foot outside the house and the protective warding he’d established, he’d ground her for fifty lifetimes. Right now, that was his favorite threat whenever she was feeling rebellious.
Not that his young charge purposely tested her limits. Austin’s attack had scared the bejeezus out of her. She’d also gotten it into her head that she wanted to go to Havenwood Falls High when they had registration for the new school year. It meant she’d have to prove she was reliable and could follow the lengthy list of rules he’d no doubt insist she agree to.
I was silently rooting for her. She was a good kid having to deal with a shitty destiny. It wasn’t her fault who her father was or that there was a price out for her death. Details about their life before coming to Havenwood Falls were still elusive and fiercely protected by Micah. He was firm when he said that the less I knew, the better. What I did know was enough to make me worry. I couldn’t imagine the pressure of always looking over my shoulder, studying the shadows for a constant threat. It was hard enough dealing with the repercussions of being an empath.
Micah returned, and I stepped aside as he locked the door.
“Can’t be too careful, right?” I added, trying to find a way to bridge the conversation from politeness to what was pressing against my heart.
He simply nodded. I didn’t like quiet Micah.
“Did you know that flamingos bend their legs at the ankle?” I continued, keeping my tone light and open. “They basically stand on tiptoe.” As if to demonstrate, I stood on mine and looked at Micah, hoping against hope that I’d be rewarded with some kind of indication of what he was thinking. When we’d started dating, one of the ground rules had been that I would try not to use my abilities on him without permission. Relationships were about trust, and I’d been adamant that he wouldn’t ever have to worry about me trying to gain an unfair advantage. I still remembered that conversation where Aunt Millicent had given it away that she’d asked me to spy on him. The hurt in his eyes and voice was something I never wanted to see again.
“Interesting.” It was all he said.
I took that as a good sign.
“Did you know that rollercoasters were invented to distract Americans from sin?” That made his eyebrows raise. I licked my lips and smiled. “Yeah, I think that guy’s name was something Thompson.” I briefly paused as I searched my memory. “Marco . . . Marcus . . .” Then it came like a lightning strike. “LaMarcus. That’s it. LaMarcus Thompson. It was his way of giving New Yorkers a more wholesome pastime than visiting saloons and brothels.” My face reddened. “Not sure why he thought there was a comparison.” My cheeks flushed as heat crept over my skin. Now my mind was on sex . . . sex with Micah.
I could tell he was stifling his need to laugh, biting the insides of his mouth. We started walking, side by side, his shoulder brushing against mine.
“I know which one I’d prefer.” His answer caused me to stumble, and I reached out to steady myself with his arm. Micah said nothing else. At least he was consistent.
There wasn’t really any kind of destination as we strolled down the street, turning at one corner, only to head in a different direction at the next. More facts tumbled about in my head. It wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, though. I felt like there was this giant proverbial elephant sitting in the room between us—the memory of my arguing with him earlier.
I bit the bullet before my impatience broke and slapped me hard.
“Micah?” I ignored the way I asked him timidly.
He didn’t answer as we rounded another corner, and right as I was about to grab his arm and force him to look at me, he took charge and pulled me into him. No words were exchanged as I peered up into his stormy expression. There wasn’t just one emotion simmering within his gaze. I had to force myself to blink before I got swept away in the hurricane.
“I’m so sorry,” I uttered, hoping that it wouldn’t come across as feeble. I didn’t get a chance to add anything else before he crushed his mouth to mine, tightening his embrace around me.
He was kissing me.
He wasn’t being silent anymore because the smoldering kiss he was delivering was saying everything for him.
I didn’t resist.
I didn’t stop him, so we could talk about our feelings and what an idiot I was.
I let his lips press against mine, and when his tongue stroked the seam of my mouth, I opened up completely. The groan that erupted at the first touch of his tongue almost buckled my knees. There was no uncertainty in the way he kissed me or how, with a simple caress of Micah’s breath at my throat, he could be so dominant and masterful. This was the kind of kiss that I read about in books—the type that laid claim and laid bare. Micah was telling me that all was forgiven. He was showing me that nothing had changed. He was proving, once and for all, that I wasn’t alone . . . that I had him.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, not wanting this moment to end. Not because it would mean I still needed to apologize, but because, just like the crystal in my pocket, it filled me with a delicious heat that made me feel invincible. It filled me with light—one that blasted away the doubt that had been lurking there.
His fingers tangled in my hair, sending chills through my body, prickling my scalp. Everywhere he touched obliterated the worries I had about us. I just couldn’t shake the doubt that whispered the attack was my fault.
“Micah,” I murmured, barely able to get his name out.
“It doesn’t matter,” came his response, his own breathing a little ragged. “I believed you that night when you came to stop me from leaving with Holly.”
My mind raced to remember. Then suddenly it was there.
“I can’t promise what tomorrow holds, but we’ll face it together.”
I’d meant every word when I’d said it a month ago. In that moment, I’d felt so brave, so unbelievably confident that there was nothing that could stand in our way to happiness. I’d been so naïve.
“Do you still believe that?” Cradling my face between his hands, his thumb brushed back and forth over my cheek. Each caress left shivers in its wake. “Please tell me you still believe it.”
Did I?
Did I still feel that conviction, especially in the wake of my suppressed guilt?
I wanted to say yes, but for some reason, I couldn’t get it to leave the tip of my tongue.
“But how can you trust me?” It came out so soft that Micah had to lean in to catch my question.
Taking hold of my hands, he brought them to his mouth, kissing the backs of my fingers. “Because I know your heart, Sedona. Because I know you would never wish Holly or me harm.” When he saw I was about to argue and push my point further, he brushed the pad of his thumb lightly over my bottom lip before leaning in to feather an even lighter kiss over my mouth. “Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes they happen despite every precaution taken. All we can do is face each challenge when it comes.”
I started to shake my head. “It can’t be that simple, though. We’re not talking about a small oversight here, Micah. I brought someone into your lives who had every intention of kidnapping Holly. This Collector person is a real and genuine threat. Not some perceived threat. Not some distant phantom wailing and rattling its chains.”
“And we thwarted that attempt.”
“That bullet could’ve easily killed her.” This was an admission that lay right at the foundation of my guilt. I didn’t care that I’d been the one who got shot. My entire focus was on that sweet teenager whom Micah had sacrificed so much to protect and keep hidden.
“Yes,
and thankfully, it didn’t.” He stroked away the single tear that had escaped from my eye. “It wasn’t your fault, Sedona.”
I lowered my defenses and made myself vulnerable to him. Standing there in the street where the town continued about its nightly business, oblivious to the two people struggling to find a balance in their relationship, I closed my eyes and rested my head against his chest. I could hear his heart beating, and slowly, my own matched it.
“How do you do that?” I asked, not moving.
“Hmm?” His response rumbled against my ear. “Do what?”
“Make things calm while standing in the midst of a storm.” I was tempted to sneak a peek at his face, but that would require moving, and I was feeling too comfortable and safe in his embrace. This was all so new to me still.
I felt him shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I try to stay as true to myself and what I believe as I can. The love I feel for you is real, so I focus on that.”
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the sound of him saying he loved me. “You make it sound so easy, though.”
He finally laughed, the sound filling the night air. “It’s far from easy, but worth the effort. You decide what you give your attention to. I choose the silver linings.” His next words thrilled me. “I choose us.”
“I didn’t mean to lose my temper with you today. I could hear the words coming out of my mouth but did nothing to stop it. I was feeling insecure, and once I started, it came out like verbal diarrhea.” I cringed at the last word. Definitely not conducive to talking about love. “You must’ve thought I was crazy.”
His hand was firm at the small of my back, and he added a little pressure there. “Want to know what I thought?”
This time I stepped out of our embrace and really looked into his kind face. There wasn’t a trace of annoyance or frustration. His were the features of a man who was being open and honest.
“Yes, please. Makes it easier than guessing.”
And getting it wrong, I added mentally.
“I wished I’d known you were carrying such a heavy burden, something that was never yours to begin with.” He kept his hands where they’d fallen to his sides, his fingers moving ever so slightly, like he was trying not to reach out and touch me. “I can’t change what happened. I felt helpless this afternoon as I watched the dam you’ve been using to keep everything inside crack and crumble. You were hurting.”
“That doesn’t excuse me lashing out at you, though, Micah.”
He nodded. “It doesn’t, but it helps me understand better. Plus, I knew once you calmed down, you’d come so we could talk. Time has a way of healing wounds, Sedona. Space does the same, but I can’t seem to keep myself from reaching out and holding you close.” And with that last confession, his arms were back around me, and this time I didn’t try to step away. I reveled in the warmth from his body.
“So we’re good?” I asked, just to make sure.
“We were never not good,” he replied. “As long as we can talk through it, we’ll be able to get through anything. Just don’t shut me out, okay?”
“Right back atcha,” I answered, feeling lighter. He laughed at my teasing.
“Let me get you home.”
We walked again in comfortable silence, holding hands as the sounds of cars passing by finally filled my ears. I’d basically tuned everything out except us. I hadn’t noticed that people were still out and about.
As we reached the end of the street, someone came around the corner, bumping into me as they passed by.
I didn’t pay them any attention, my focus still on the miracle that was me and Micah.
We’d overcome another hurdle—this one of my own creation. Unlike my earlier doubt, today had somehow made us stronger as a couple. I could feel it all the way down to my toes. Everything felt . . . right.
And the heated kiss we exchanged at my door just proved the thought that once again floated to the surface.
Life was good.
Love was good.
So very, very good.
Chapter 4
Never let somebody’s drama determine the outcome of your day.
The desktop calendar of daily quotes was spookily accurate today as I caught sight of the last person I wanted to see this early in the morning.
“Any more words of advice, Mr. Terry Mark?” I asked out loud, staring hard at the square printed paper as though it would magically add an extra quote or two. Unfortunately, magical powers or not, I wasn’t Harry Potter talking to Tom Riddle’s journal.
Sometime in the future, I was going to need to fix this tension between my aunt and me. As an empath, I got an inside advantage to how she viewed the world—to how she saw our relationship. Buried deep beneath her pride and driving need to be useful lurked her love for me. I couldn’t fault her for constantly pushing me toward using my magic more. With no children of her own, she saw it as safeguarding our family’s legacy and ensuring that her knowledge didn’t fall by the wayside.
What I struggled with was her inability to even acknowledge my own needs. That same thirst for power didn’t run through my veins. When ambition was handed out in Heaven, I was busy reading or something, and missed out. She saw it as a character flaw to desperately squash. Once my parents died, and then my grandfather, the pressure fell even harder on her shoulders.
For the most part, we danced around each other, our game of tug of war often ending in mutual frustration.
It didn’t help that I antagonized her. I considered it payback for the countless lectures she delivered, her voice droning as she talked about family honor and my lack of respect.
And here she was again, about to grace me with her presence. The look of determination that filled her features didn’t betray her purpose for the visit. Neither did the haughty scowl she offered when she entered.
“Good morning, Sedona. I trust that everything is well with you.” Her greeting was almost dismissive as she strode past where I was sitting at the counter, her focus directed toward the back of the store.
So she was here for that, I mused. It was going to be that kind of social call.
Secreted in the far back wall, beyond the entrance that led to the store room, was a door that led to the upstairs apartment. My grandfather had lived up there until he took his last breath, and it was where the pull-down ladder was kept for the attic.
No one had cause to go up there. Going up to the attic to find some window display inspiration was the last time I’d ventured that way, and honestly, it hurt my heart too much to be surrounded by all the items that represented my beloved grandfather’s life.
“What can I help you with you, Auntie?” I asked, forcing her to stop in her tracks and talk with me. If she was wanting into his apartment, she was going for one reason only—the extensive library of magical tomes and paraphernalia he’d collected and inherited.
That I’d inherited, according to his will.
There was no mistaking her exasperation. “I need to find a certain volume from the family collection.” I didn’t miss the heavy emphasis placed on family. “Unless you’re ready to step up and do your part.” A smug smile briefly curled her lips before she returned to her normal expression.
I didn’t take the bait. “Wait until I’m finished with this.” I gestured to the pile of paperwork I’d been successfully ignoring up until now. “Then I can let you in and get it for you.” I threw her one of my own grins, feigning interest in the electricity bills.
“I wouldn’t want to rush you, niece.” Her foot betrayed her false patience, tapping twice.
I rested my hands on the top of the counter and pushed my chair back. “What were you looking for in particular?”
Part of me really didn’t want to ask, because she would see it as a foothold into berating me about my shameful reluctance.
Aunt Millicent was nothing if not predictable. “Important research for the coven.” Peering over her glasses so she resembled an eagle looking down on the world, she started speaki
ng the words that began most of the arguments we had. “If you didn’t squander your gifts, you would know. The coven is always needing the support of powerful witches like you, Sedona.” She even had the same tone of shame and disgust. “You have no idea how embarrassing it is to see others bring their family members into the fold, and yet I remain alone in my duty.”
I was careful to keep my own sigh quiet as I continued up the stairs. “Yeah, I imagine it’s got to suck.”
That was the wrong thing to say. “Sedona Mathews, that’s enough of your sarcasm, thank you very much.” She grabbed my arm and squeezed harder than anticipated. I squeaked from the brief flash of pain as her nails dug in through my light sweater. When I added a loud ow, she finally released her grip. “You know I do this because I love you. I wouldn’t push if I didn’t recognize what great potential you have. Not just as your birthright, but also because I believe you can achieve anything once you put your mind to it.”
This was the closest she ever came to praising me. As with any of our conversations, there was always a major but at the end of such small compliments.
“But?” I prompted, wanting to speed this up. I still had bills and applications to ignore.
“Why must you try my patience?” she exclaimed, sounding more and more like she was the victim of some horrible verbal assault. “All I’ve ever wanted was to see you succeed, Sedona. Is it wrong for me to want greater things for you?”
So help me, if she sniffled or feigned any kind of emotion, I was going to stop, go back downstairs, and leave the store. I wasn’t in the mood for her brand of encouragement.
“Sorry, Aunt Millicent,” I mumbled, choosing instead to not add fuel to the flames between us. We finally entered into the small living room area in my grandfather’s home. A heavy coating of dust covered every surface, all except for the large pieces of furniture I’d thrown sheets over to protect.
It seemed she had something else to say. “Why do you still keep that tiny apartment over at Havenwood Village when you could easily move into here?” She scrunched up her face as she looked like she was about to sneeze. “I’m sure he would be pleased knowing you were close.”
Addicted to You Page 3
