Big Witch Energy

by Kelly Jamieson

  I sense her smile. “This might surprise you, but I didn’t time it.”

  “I’ll make it up to you. Just give me another two minutes.”

  “Ha.”

  “Seriously. I can do it. I’m a witch.”

  She giggles. “Oh! Now I’m learning the good stuff.”

  “I’m the best, baby.” I roll her onto her back and smile down at her. “Don’t forget it.”

  She makes me laugh. In bed. Felise was right. Not that Felise knows we’re in bed. Ah hell, I can’t think about that right now.

  She snuggles up to me. “Tell me more about your family.”

  Usually that’s a big ugh from me, but I’m relaxed and satisfied and Romy’s sweet and warm. “Well. My dad was larger than life. Huge personality. Everyone loved him, and he loved everyone. He made people laugh, and he was always so curious about what was going on in people’s lives.”

  “He sounds amazing.”

  “Yeah. My mom was quieter, but she was just as caring. She was a great mother, although I didn’t appreciate it enough as a kid. Or a teenager.”

  “And your brother?”

  I can’t help but sigh, thinking of Nathan’s life cut so short. “We were glued together. There was less than two years between us, so we played together a lot. We fought too, of course. He took after Dad and was always mouthing off.” I smile, remembering his smart mouth. “He loved to play guitar. Wanted to be in a rock band. We used to pretend to be—don’t laugh—Nickelback and rock out in our garage.”

  “Nickelback. I’m not laughing! I don’t get the hate for Nickelback. I love ‘Rockstar.’”

  “Right?” I pause. “I miss Nathan.”

  “I’m sure you do. I’m sure you miss all of them.” She strokes my chest. “It must have been hard to lose your whole family all at once. Oh, man. That sounds so lame. Of course it was hard.”

  “Yeah. It was.” I swallow. The hardest part about it was knowing I was responsible. I’d wanted to die too, just so I didn’t have to live with that guilt. I should have died with them. “It was a hard enough age to begin with. I’d just started at the Academy. I hated going back to school and having everyone look at me with pity. Lots of kids didn’t know what to say. So nobody talked about it. The first year after it happened, I was just pissed at everyone.”

  “I think that’s a protection mechanism from the grief,” she says softly. “I felt like that about my mom. In her case, I knew she was going to die, so I was sort of prepared. Except you’re never prepared. I was so lost afterward.”

  “What happened with her?”

  “She had ovarian cancer. It all happened pretty quickly—her diagnosis, then getting sick, and then… dying.” She takes a breath, in and out. “I gave up my apartment and moved back home with her for a few months so I could help take care of her.”

  My chest fills with warmth. “Good for you.”

  She hitches a shoulder. “I had to do it. It had always been just the two of us.”

  “She never married?”

  “No. She never even had a serious relationship.” She goes silent for a long moment. “I still think about what you said about her being part witch. I don’t think it’s possible, but it does make me wonder if that was why she never got involved with anyone. Except… why not another witch?”

  I thread my fingers through her hair. “I don’t know, honey. The way she reacted to Joe seems to indicate that she wasn’t comfortable with it if she was a witch.”

  “What would happen to someone who didn’t know they were a witch? Who never went to the Academy and learned about their powers?”

  “They have soft powers, but usually they don’t know how to use them. I remember my mom talking about a woman she knew—a witch—who gave up her child for adoption, and the boy ended up with a Rucker family. He never knew he was a witch.”

  “Really. Huh.”

  “It’s possible your mom did know. But maybe she didn’t accept it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Were you close with her?”

  “We were pretty close. It was just the two of us. She didn’t like showing feelings or talking about feelings, which meant things were pretty buttoned up. When she was dying, I was upset and started crying one day, and she got so mad at me for that.”

  “Oh man.”

  “Yeah. I knew she loved me, but I always felt she was never satisfied with me. I always wanted to do things that she didn’t like.”

  I frown. “Like what?”

  “I wanted to take musical theater. She hated that. She didn’t like my premonitions and feelings about things. She thought it was strange that I was fascinated by the moon.”

  “Is that why the tattoo?” I touch the small black crescent behind her ear.

  “Yeah. It always felt comforting to me to look up at the sky and see the moon. I love the way it changes… a small sliver, then growing bigger and rounder… then waning again to nothing. Except it’s not nothing. It’s always there; we just can’t see it. I love the cycle of it, that it never ends. The renewal.”

  “Mmm. Yes. That kind of timelessness is comforting, isn’t it?”

  “Right? You get it. She didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay! She was a good mom. She loved me and I loved her. I wanted to please her, so I did the things she wanted. I worked as hard as I could because I wanted to hear her say she was proud of me.”

  I let this sink in. I see how frustrated Romy’s been with her training, how she wants so badly to excel. Maybe I haven’t been giving her enough praise. She’s been doing amazingly well, other than the times she’s tried to get ahead of herself. I feel a hard knot in my chest. I need to tell her that.

  “You’ve accomplished a lot,” I say. “I think she was proud of you.”

  “Aw. That’s nice of you to say.” She tips her head back to look into my eyes. “Thank you.”

  I give her a smooch that isn’t enough. Our gazes hold, and her eyelids grow heavy and I kiss her again. And again, licking her bottom lip, slipping my tongue inside. She moans and squirms against me, trying to get closer. Not that she can. There’s nothing between our skin.

  I’m instantly fully hard and ready for action, and I roll her to her back for the round two I promised her.

  It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m still at Romy’s place. She made french toast for a late breakfast, along with some delicious dark coffee with real cream and the sugar I love, then we went back to bed.

  Fucking her isn’t helping my obsession with her, I’m afraid. I can’t get enough of her, exploring every inch of her pretty body, finding out all the things she loves and then doing them to her until she comes apart. And she’s right there with me, eagerly participating and responding.

  I notice new art on her walls. “Those are nice.”

  “Thanks.” She beams. “I’m getting back into painting.”

  “You did those?”

  “Yes!”

  “Shut up!” I move closer to study the two framed watercolor paintings. They’re feminine and pretty and seem really good to me, not that I know much about art.

  She laughs. “No lie.”

  “These are great.” I turn to her. “You should do more.”

  “I am. I really enjoy it. I got inspired from that print that Felise and Magan gave me.” She points to another framed picture on the wall.

  “Cute. You’re really talented.”

  Her cheeks go pink. “You’re just saying that because you want to bone again.”

  “Well, yeah.” I smirk. “But no. I mean it.”

  “Thank you.” The pleased look on her face makes my chest warm.

  “I like the other changes you’ve made too.” I wave at the living room. “The pillows and stuff.” Over the weeks, various things have appeared—cushions, candles, a new lamp—many in a soft pink color with some gold accents. It’s added personality to the room, with color and texture and the scents of the candles, the living energy of plant
s.

  She smiles and runs a hand over a furry cushion. “Thanks. It’s been fun picking out some new things.”

  Finally we’re dressed and sitting in her office.

  “We need to prepare you for your interview,” I tell her.

  “I’m terrified of this,” she says.

  “Don’t be.” I study her face. “That doesn’t help, I know. You’re doing great, Romy. I probably don’t tell you that enough.”

  She regards me with wide, searching eyes. “Really?”

  “Really.” I hate it that she doubts herself and I haven’t encouraged her. “I had a bit of a, uh, chip on my shoulder about tutoring you, but it’s been… rewarding. You’ve picked up so much, so fast, and your power is going to be… formidable.”

  It has been rewarding. Seeing her grow is satisfying. And all this has rekindled my interest in magic. I’m not about to jump back into the coven, but it’s reminded me of why I love the power, the creativity, the ability to do good. I’d given up on that.

  Her eyes widen even more. “Oh. Wow. Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t as supportive as I should have been. I’m an asshole.”

  She bites her lip. “Sometimes, yes.” But her eyes are gleaming.

  We review the things the Board of Elders will ask her, and I help her prepare her answers.

  “It kind of is like a job interview,” I say. “The board is very traditional. So make sure you show up on time. It’ll be quite formal. The first thing you need to understand are the values of the coven.”

  She nods. “Honor, humility, strength, empathy.”

  “Yes. They may ask you about your job. Remember humility.”

  “Okay. No bragging.”

  I smile. “You just have to be honest. They might ask you about your weaknesses.”

  Her eyes widen. “Why?”

  “It’s to check your self-awareness.”

  Her pretty lips purse. “So I shouldn’t tell them I’m perfect?”

  “Ha. No.” Although she damn near is. “What would you say your weaknesses are?”

  “This is hard.” Her lips firm with frustration. “My mom always said my tendency to make snap decisions was a weakness. She thought my imagination was a weakness. She said I talked too much.”

  My chest tightens, thinking about a little girl growing up believing her imagination and chattiness were wrong. “What you could say is that you have a tendency to make quick decisions based on intuition, but over time you’ve also learned the importance of analysis and data.”

  She nods quickly. “That’s true. Um. Should I tell them I hate public speaking?”

  My lips quirk. “That would be honest, I guess.”

  I’m sure all she has to do is smile and they’ll be completely spellbound. Just like me.

  I’m afraid to think too much about what’s happening here.

  Finally I close up all the books. “Okay. I think you’re ready. I better get home.”

  “Oh. Okay. You could stay for dinner.”

  I cup her face and gently kiss her. “I wish I could. I have to go pick up Cheddar.”

  “Uh… you need cheese?”

  I laugh. “No. My dog. From Garrett’s place. I took her there yesterday because I was going to be out late at the wedding.”

  “You have a dog?” Her eyes pop big as Frisbees. “How did I not know this?”

  “I guess we never talked about it.”

  “What kind of dog is she?”

  “She’s a mix, but she’s definitely part corgi.”

  “Oh, I love corgis. Do you have a picture?”

  “Yeah, on my phone.”

  “I love dogs.” She scoots closer as I pull out my phone and unlock it. “Oh my god! That’s her?”

  “Yeah.” I swipe and show her a few more.

  “She’s adorable! Where does the name Cheddar come from?”

  “Brooklyn Nine-Nine. You haven’t watched that show?”

  “No.”

  “Wow. There is so much I don’t know about you.”

  She grins.

  I stand and shove my phone back in my pocket. She rises too and follows me to the door. Fuck. I don’t want to leave. “Good luck with your interview.”

  “It’s not until Thursday.” Her gaze moves over my face. “Will… I see you before then?”

  I swallow. This is the part I’ve been dreading. The stuff I haven’t wanted to think about. “Romy…”

  She squeezes her eyes closed briefly as if bracing herself. “Yes?”

  “I told you I don’t do relationships.”

  She purses her lips. “I remember.” Then she tilts her head. “Why?”

  I blink. Why? I mean, it’s obvious to me. But to tell her that I don’t deserve love or happiness, that I’m terrified of losing people I love… I swallow. “I always mess things up.”

  “Hmm.”

  What does that mean? “It’s not you,” I add. “It’s me.”

  She laughs.

  I frown.

  “But what if it is me?” she asks.

  I lift my eyebrows.

  “I’m not good at relationships either,” she admits. “I’ve always been hesitant to be myself with people. And that’s not conducive to a close relationship.” She wrinkles her nose and hitches her shoulders diffidently. “So neither of us are good at them. Let’s just… be friends.”

  Friends. “Does that mean no more sex?”

  She bites back a smile. “Do you want more sex?”

  “Jesus, do you have to ask?” I reach for her and pull her into my arms. I rest my face on top of her head. “I told you… I can’t get enough of you.”

  “Okay then.”

  “I just don’t want Joe and Cassie freaking out or—Christ—Felise. Can you imagine?” I roll my eyes.

  She pulls back to gaze up at me. “Yeah.” Her face softens. “I get it.”

  “How about dinner next week one evening?”

  Her eyes warm. “That would be nice.”

  “Okay.” I pull her in again and kiss her until we’re both hot and panting and her arms are curled around my neck to hold herself up. “Bye.”

  “Bye, Trace.” Her eyes are hazy, her lips wet and curved into a gentle smile.

  I drag myself away from her. I don’t even have my truck here, so I have to Uber it over to Garrett’s place. That gives me time to think about the huge fucking problem I just created for myself.

  I arrive at Garrett’s place to find him and Julie in the kitchen, making dinner. I texted earlier to let Garrett know I’d be picking Cheddar up later.

  Cheddar greets me with ecstatic leaps and licks. “Hey, girl, calm down. I’m here.” I let her jump into my arms, let her swipe her tongue all over my face, and give her rubs. “What’s that?” I cock my head. “They tortured you? They didn’t feed you?”

  Garrett scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

  I grin and set Cheddar down. “Thanks for looking after her.”

  “No problem.”

  “We love her,” Julie says. “Any time.”

  “Want a beer?” Garrett offers.

  “Uh… I should get home. Oh, what the hell. Okay.”

  A cold beer appears in my hand, and he picks up the bottle he’s drinking. “Come outside.”

  We step out onto the deck, and I stroll over to the rail and lean on it.

  “How was the wedding?”

  “Good. The usual.”

  “How was your date?” Garrett smirks.

  “Okay, you obviously figured out why I’m late.”

  “You spent the night with her.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh and shove a hand into my hair. “What the fuck have I done? What if Joe and Cassie find out?”

  “It’s kind of none of their business. You two are both adults.”

  I let out a gust of air. “Yeah, I know, but… she’s Joe’s daughter.”

  “Adult daughter. I’m sure it was consensual.”

  “Fuck, yeah.” I frown.

&nbs
p; “So what’s the deal? You serious about her?”

  “I can’t be.”

  “Because she’s Joe’s daughter.”

  I stare across Garrett’s small yard. “That’s part of it.”

  “I know you’ve never forgiven yourself for what happened,” Garrett says in a low voice. “Maybe it’s time.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  “Are you still trying to find a way to bring them back?” Garrett asks.

  “Nah. I gave up on that a long time ago.”

  “Bullshit. You say you did… but you’re still hoping.”

  I sigh. “I might have done more research.”

  “You need to get on with your life.”

  “I am!”

  “Again, I call bullshit. It’s obvious why you jump from one woman to another. You’re afraid.”

  My chest tightens. I tip my beer to my lips. He’s right. But admitting to your best buddy you’re fucking terrified of something isn’t that easy. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Okay. Then what’s the problem?”

  “You’re pissing me off.”

  “I know.” He smirks. “It’s what I’m here for.”

  “I don’t want Romy to get hurt. I’ll fuck things up somehow, and she’ll be hurt and Joe and Cassie will hate my guts and…”

  Garrett nods. “And…?”

  And I’ll lose the only family I have… again.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think they could ever hate your guts. If they could, they would have when you were a twat of a teenager.”

  “Ouch.”

  “You know it’s true.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I think you’re afraid of more than that.”

  My abs contract. “Like what?” I’m losing patience with this shit.

  “You’re afraid of falling for someone. Because she could be taken away.”

  “I’m not falling for her.”

  “Uh-huh. Fine. So what are you going to do? Pretend it never happened?”

  “I’m taking her out for dinner next week.”

  He laughs.

  Even I hear how preposterous I sound. “Don’t worry, we’re friends. We agreed.”

  “Well, as long as you’re honest with her.”

  “I am.”

  “Are you? Have you told her everything?”