The silence grew and with it, her confusion. Helping someone with death was easy. Dealing with life and love…
“I’m sorry. I overstepped. People deal with their grief in different ways, and I’ve no right to tell you how to handle yours.”
She slowly walked to the front door, disappointed but not surprised that he didn’t try to stop her.
****
Fraser sat on the hard benches of the cold arena, shivering. The rink didn’t seem so frigid when insulated in all his pads, playing. But now?
Then again, maybe it was his cold, dark mood.
He was mad at Cassie.
No, the world.
No…himself.
What good was being a witch if you couldn’t do anything with it?
He sat in the stands, right behind the team, wearing his street clothes. Not playing, but the coach still wanted him nearby. He sighed, following the game with little real interest. The enthusiasm of the home crowd did nothing to improve his mood.
“Damn,” he said, cringing as one of his teammates got crushed against the boards.
Less skilled than his own team, the opposition used their size to curtail the growing point-spread.
He narrowed his eyes as the body-checking player made his way to the penalty box. Fraser released a long slow breath of frustration, and the player suddenly slammed into the boards. The player whipped his head around, but no one was near.
Did I do that? Fraser studied the surrounding crowd. Maybe the guy just tripped.
His eyes followed a breakaway play, and as the opposing team took a shot, Fraser blew. Short and quick.
The puck veered into the corner. For no reason. Like the car.
Stop!
What was he doing? He wasn’t a dirty player. He wasn’t going to sit here and hurt people or cheat simply because there were no consequences to himself.
He got up and fought his way through the tight space between knees and seats.
He climbed the stairs two at a time. Somewhere in the distance, his coach called his name.
He hastened, dazed, to the far corner and plopped down on a bench. From one pocket he removed his cellphone. From the other, the small black and white business card. He ran his fingers over the raised gold letters.
Lucius picked up on the first ring. “Hello, Fraser. What can I do for you?”
Magic or caller id?
“You know, I can play pretty much any sport and I’m not just good at it, I’m really, really good. Hockey. Tennis. Squash. And skiing, I love it. I can beat almost…no, not almost, I can beat all my friends down the hill. I once wiped out. I mean, I was spinning head over ass, broke both my skis, and yet it was like bouncing along on cotton. When I stopped, I got up and walked away with nothing more than a few bruises. No one could believe it. I couldn’t believe it.”
He began to pace, his footsteps echoing in the deserted hall.
“Have you ever tried to find your biological father?” Lucius asked.
“I started to, but it was pointless,” Fraser answered. “No one seemed to have any idea who my real dad was. You think my dad was the witch?”
“That would be my guess. If your mom had been a witch, it would be most probable that your aunt would be one, too. Since she never said anything, I’m assuming the source of your inheritance is your father.”
Fraser dropped his head into his empty hand. What would have happened if he tried to seriously injure that player?
“I need help,” Fraser said.
“Admitting it is the first step,” Lucius replied like the group leader of Witches Anonymous.
****
The doorbell rang as she finished running the brush through her hair. Pangs of nervous expectation stirred in her stomach. She raced down the stairs, stopping first to calm herself. She took a breath and opened the door.
“Hi,” said Fraser.
“Hi, yourself.”
His eyes darted from her face to the floor and back, and he wrung his leather gloves tight in his hands. “I came over to apologize.”
“Come on in.” She opened the door wider.
Fraser stepped inside but didn’t remove his coat. He stared at the crumpled gloves, and then stuffed them into his pockets.
“I called Lucius.”
“That’s good.”
“I met with him, too.”
She struggled to keep the surprise from her face. “What did he say?”
“Stuff about the four elements—earth, fire, air, and water. And that for witches, there is a fifth: the spirit. He thinks my elemental strength is air. He said I would have learned all this if I had been trained.”
She knew a little about witches and their control of the elements. It explained what happened at the accident.
“I started to blame myself, thinking that if I had known I was a witch, I would have been able to save Joe. Lucius said it doesn’t work that way. He said my dad—my real dad—should have taught me all this, but maybe…maybe he didn’t even know my mother was pregnant.”
She rested a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself, Fraser. Not for any of it.”
“I know. I’m trying to…process it all. I dropped out of school today.”
“What?”
“Just for the semester. Lucius has agreed to help me. Teach me. Witches usually start their training at puberty. I’ve got a bit of catching up to do.”
Lucius was a good guy. He’d be a great teacher.
“And I quit the hockey team.”
“But Fraser…” Had she said too much the other day?
“You were right. I was playing because of Joe. I was in business because of Joe. I’ve already decided when I go back, I’m going to study something different. Nursing, maybe. Or sociology. Maybe Lucius can help me figure out some career goal where I can help other orphan witches in my situation. I mean, I could have hurt someone. And who knows what might have happened if I never found out. I mean…God, I’m sorry, I’m rambling again.”
She smiled softly. “No problem. As I said before, I have that effect on people. Literally.”
“It’s an angel thing? Confession is good for the soul?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Something like that.”
Fraser took a deep breath, the tension draining from his face.
“I did a lot of thinking about us, too,” he said. “I thought maybe my attraction to you was because you’re an angel, because of your influence. But I know it’s more. I’ve been away from you for days, Cassie, and I never stopped thinking about you. You said you were attracted to me. Maybe it’s because of my witches’ influence. Maybe not. I was wondering if…if you thought about me at all?”
Cassie smiled shyly and nodded her head. Morning, noon, and night. Especially night. She reached up and fingered the angel pendant at her neck.
“So, I might be attracted to you because you’re an angel, and you’re possibly attracted to me because I’m a witch, but it’s also possible we are just attracted to each other because…well, because we are.”
Again, she nodded. Similar thoughts had crossed her mind.
“And the other night, we had amazing sex that might’ve been some physical phenomenon brought on by the combined forces of our mutual powers. But if we’re attracted to each other in the first place, there’s nothing wrong with a little supernatural super sex, is there?”
“Not at all,” she said. Her cheeks grew warm as the heat of his words reached out to the rest of her body.
“So why did you stop by the other day?” he asked, leaning back against the door, appearing more relaxed. Confession obviously good for his soul.
“I wanted you to know that…well, I’ve never really had a serious relationship.” She’d hold off on the confession of love for now. “And, well, I’d like to give it a try. If you’re still willing.”
He let out a little laugh.
“What?” she asked.
“I made a promise to myself that I was going to start doing stu
ff for me, not for other people. And here you go asking me out.”
She laughed. “Well, you could go back outside, and we could start again.”
“No, that’s okay.”
He pushed off from the door, to stand in front of her.
“There is one thing that I do want to do for myself, but I hope it makes you happy, too.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
Fraser took Cassie’s hands in his, pulled her toward him, and kissed her.
A word about the author…
Charlotte Copper lives in Stouffville, Ontario—that’s in Canada, eh. When she isn’t working at her full-time job, Charlotte likes to craft, read, go to movies, and, of course, write. Charlotte hopes to have all of her stories published some day because, as a romance writer, she believes in happy endings!
http://charlottecopperauthor.com
[email protected]
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Love Supernaturally Page 6