This Spells Love(11)

He takes my hand and squeezes. “Yeah, well, I’m banking on you not remembering half of this in the morning.”

His fingers linger, cupping my hand. Warm and strong. They fill my head with fleeting thoughts. Musings only allowed on lonely late nights or after too much tequila. I open my mouth, wondering what will spill out, and am half-surprised that what does come is laughter. Hysterical sob-laughs that make my stomach hurt until I clutch my knees to my chest and force myself to draw deep breaths.

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” Dax gets up, but before he can go, I grab his hand.

“Tuck me in?”

He pauses for a beat, but then peels back the corner of my covers and waits until I crawl under to pull them back over me.

“And a hug?” I open my arms. Again he hesitates before leaning forward and letting me wrap my arms around him.

I breathe him in. “You always smell good. Like soap but spicy.”

He tries to pull back, but my grip is strong for my intoxication level.

“Uh…thank you.”

“I love you, Dax,” I whisper into his ear.

“I think that’s Jose Cuervo talking.”

I let go so I can look at him. “No, it’s true. You are my best friend. And the best guy. And the best ever.”

“That’s a lot of bests.”

It is. And I mean every one. “I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

“You’d spend significantly more time wandering the streets of Hamilton without pants.”

“It’s good that we never screwed things up between us, right?” I ask him, once again thinking about what Kiersten said this afternoon.

His forehead crinkles. “What do you mean?”

“I mean sex. It’s good that it never happened.”

He looks away before bringing his gaze slowly back. “Have you thought a lot about this?”

No. Or maybe? I mean, yes. What I mean is that I haven’t not thought about it. But what I know for sure, deep down in my bones, is that I don’t want to live in a world where he’s not in my life.

“You’re my best friend. If we had sex, everything could change. I don’t want that.” I reach for his hand, but he moves it.

“You’re right. It would.”

I extend my arms for another hug, but Dax stands up, then abruptly walks to the top of the stairs. As he flicks the light off, I call out to him, “Good night, Daxon McGuire.”

He turns, hand on the banister, weight shifting from heel to toe as if he’s deciding something.

“I wish that…” He doesn’t finish the thought.

“You wish what?” I suddenly need to hear what he has to say.

Frowning, he bows his head. “Never mind. Night, Gems.”

I hear him descend the stairs. The clank, clank, clank as he gets farther and farther away. In a moment, he’ll be gone—I panic.

“Wait!”

I scramble to my feet, flip on the light, and peer down the staircase just as Dax reaches the bottom. “Don’t go!”

“It’s late, Gems. We both should get to bed.”

“You can’t go yet.” He can’t. Because Stuart. Because he never did finish that last thought. Because…

“Do you need something else?” he asks.

An excuse. A reason for him to stay.

“We never finished the spell.”

I descend the stairs with a composure and grace I didn’t know was in me.

“I know I stopped it before, but I really think we should complete it. Start tomorrow with a new leaf, right?”

His eyes flick to the door, but he nods. “If that’s what you want.”

I don’t have the birthday candle. Or the yarn, or even the chicken. “Maybe we just try picking up where we left off?”

There’s no need to explain which step that was.

Dax nods and steps toward me as I squeeze my eyes shut and wait.

This is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. This is the worst idea I have ever had and—

Dax’s lips are on mine.

It’s a simple kiss. No tongue and he lingers for only a moment, but it’s nothing like I expected. His lips are velvet soft, and I catch a whiff of mint as he presses them to mine, and I am overcome with this strange sense that I’ve remembered something I didn’t know I’d forgotten.

“How’s the heart?” he whispers, his hands still cupping my chin.

I don’t know. It’s tired. It’s drunk. It’s worried everything is going to change.

“Still a little broken, I think.”

Dax doesn’t say a word. And even though my eyes are closed, I can sense that he’s still close. The solid, steady presence that’s been an anchor for the past four years of my life.

“Get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning.”

I feel him step away. When I finally open my eyes, Dax is already halfway across the room, reaching for my front door.

I’m left standing in my kitchen, wondering if I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning and regret all of it.





Chapter 4





Even before I open my eyes, I know that something is off.

It’s not the throbbing pain that stretches between my temples or the way my stomach churns unless I lay absolutely still. It’s the smell—AXE body spray and bacon—that alerts me to the fact that I am not in my own bed.