“I did not like that.” Caleb shakes his head.
“I don’t think we’re gonna have to deal with that again,” I say, but the minute the words leave my mouth, I realize I’m not sure. “Probably.”
What if that is Hazel’s magic? What if there’s something darker in her than just candy or creating mechanical objects and repairing them like Posey, or music like Rose?
A little tendril of dread curls up my spine.
Caleb presses a kiss to my forehead, and the fear dissolves under his touch.
“I’m still here,” he says. “Whatever it is that’s going on with Hazel, I’ll be with you. We’ll figure it out. I’m not going to get scared away so easily.”
He cocks his head slightly, looking up at the sky as he considers that fact.
“After that, I’m not sure what could scare me away.”
“What if I had explosive diarrhea in the bathtub?” I ask him.
“What the fuck?” he asks.
“Yeah, or what if I turned into a worm?”
“Are you seriously asking me the worm question?” His eyebrows rocket up, rain dripping down his face. “It is so overdone.”
“Listen, I haven’t had anyone to ask the worm question, so answer it.”
A heavy sigh meets my demand, and then he gives a serious nod. “If you turn into a worm, I would take you to your sisters and tell them to take whatever curse is on you off, and if they couldn’t, then I’d put a little pink bow around your little worm neck, and I’d try to figure out a way to keep you away from Fig.”
I have to laugh at that. “I’m not planning on turning into a worm.”
“I’m really glad, because I, you know, I can find the pink ribbon somewhere, but it’s not at the top of my to-do list. And the general store only stocks ribbon at the holidays.”
I stare up at him, overwhelmed, fully cooked emotionally and physically from the ritual, and I just melt.
“I love you,” I tell him.
“So you’re saying we’re getting married?” he asks.
“That is absolutely not what I’m saying,” I tell him with a laugh. “Not right now, but this is not the minute to talk about that. But I do love you.”
“I know you do, Ivy,” he says, brushing some hair out of my eyes then wiping a tear away with his thumb. He kisses the other side where another tear tracks down my cheek. “I know you do, and I love you too.”
“I’m glad you came back,” I tell him.
“I’m glad you were here when I came back,” he says, “and I’m not going to leave again.”
“Good,” I tell him, “or I’ll turn you into a worm.”
He barks a laugh at that.
“Well, I don’t want to think about future me as a worm,” he says.
“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t be one long. I’ll feed you to Fig?—”
He gives me a long kiss on the lips. “Would you turn me into a worm if I told you I bought the house down the street from you? The Douglas place?”
“No.” I narrow my eyes. “Probably not.” Inside, though, I’m delighted. “I love that house.”
“Phew,” He puts a hand over his heart. “And to think I’d be one with wormdom if you’d said no.”
