I can’t breathe, can’t look away.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified in my entire life of what’s happening between us in this moment. Thunder rolls again, wind whipping up against the lighthouse, but none of it seems as important as the stormy eyes that are staring into mine. Quiet, calm, and somehow still full of emotion.
And still, I can’t find the words that I need to say. How am I supposed to explain that the reason I left things the way they are is because he has no idea who I really am? He has no idea that magic guides nearly every facet of my life, that Gunner can speak, that the sugar and chocolate treats I make aren’t just ingredients you can find at any grocery store.
How am I supposed to tell him?
So I don’t.
I stand there and I stare at him, and finally he sighs, his hands loosening on my arms.
“I can’t do this again, Ivy.” His mouth forms a thin line, lips pressed together. “I need to either close this chapter of my life, or I need to know why I should try again, because I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s at the point where I’m afraid that it’s not healthy anymore.”
Suddenly I don’t care about the curse that supposedly hangs over us. I don’t care about the fact that telling him my biggest secret might be the thing that finally makes me lose him. Because at least then I’ll know.
“Caleb,” I start.
He looks at me. My hands are shaking slightly, so I press them against my chest to stop it.
“I am afraid to tell you this.” The words come out slowly, so quiet that I can hardly hear them myself.
I swallow hard.
“Maybe we should sit,” I say.
“It’s that serious?” Caleb asks, and he goes from looking concerned and hopeful and determined to heartbroken and terrified. And I know that I have absolutely put my foot in it now.
“Is it cancer?” he asks.
“No, no, nothing like that,” I say, setting the hot chocolate down on the table and sinking into a seat. I cradle my face in my hands, trying to summon the courage, as if courage is something easily summoned, like a spell. Well, if there is a spell for it, I certainly don’t have the ingredients.
“You’re not going to believe what I tell you.”
“Try,” Caleb says. “You used to trust me. You used to tell me everything.”
That hurts, and I stare at him for a long moment between my fingers.
“I never told you everything.”
“Tell me,” Caleb says. “I can take it, whatever it is.”
“I’m a witch.” The words blurt out fast, as if they come from a fire hose to put out a burning building.
Unfortunately, it’s as if I’ve poured gasoline on the entire conversation.
“Ivy, be serious,” Caleb says, more exasperated than I’ve ever seen him. “It’s not funny. I… I don’t want to do this again. I want our ending to be different this time. Whatever it is, just tell me, I can handle it. Even if it’s just to tell me it’s over and it never will be.”
His voice cracks on the last word, and for a second I consider lying to him, telling him that something is wrong with me, with the house, with my family. The timing is wrong. The shop’s too much work, give an excuse.
But I can’t. I can’t do that to Caleb. He’s a real person, and he never stopped being a real person even when he moved away and moved out of my life. And now he’s a real person and a real place that meant something real to me, and still does and might always in the future. And I want that future with him.
So I take my hands off my face and I look him in the eye. And I make sure that my expression is as no-nonsense as it’s ever been.
“Not making a joke, Caleb. I’m a witch. I use magic. And it’s a secret that I am trusting you with. It’s my whole life and it’s not a joke. And I know it sounds crazy and that’s why I’ve never told you, because I never wanted you to look at me like you are right now.”
Because he is. He is looking at me with a slight smile, hint of frustration, and eyebrows shot through with silver that are arched nearly all the way to his hairline.
“Do you mean like a Wiccan and you like crystals and tarot cards? I can work with that,” he says. His eyes glint with amusement now.
