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Belinda in my shirt.

Belinda laughing.

Belinda crying because her family made her feel like she wasn't enough.

Belinda coming from my touch.

Belinda asleep in my bed.

Belinda gone from it.

The fucking panic.

“Yes.”

The word comes out rough. Nobody laughs.

“I fucking love her.”

Annabeth smiles.

Megan softens.

Owen nods once.

My chest hurts.

“So what do I do?”

Annabeth's smile turns wicked.

“Now we can work with you.”

Chapter 22

Damian

Apparently, wooing a Witch requires a committee.

I hate committees.

By noon, I have one anyway.

Megan insists I stop telling Belinda what she is supposed to feel.

Annabeth insists food is required.

Owen insists I stop flying near trees.

Delilah makes a list.

I don't ask why.

First item?

HELP HER. DON'T TAKE OVER.

I hate that sentence. Mostly because it's right.