“Hey, Krissa.”
When I turn to him, Tucker’s eyes are intense, both brighter and darker than usual. He presses the palm of his hand into the brick wall over my shoulder and leans in toward me.
I shrink back as far as I can, my eyes darting toward the group he split off from. No one seems to notice Tucker’s absence. They’re shouting and laughing as they walk away, and even if I call out, they probably won’t hear me.
“Aren’t you gonna say hi?” His breath is sweet and there’s a tinge of something I don’t recognize. A smile stretches across his mouth. “I thought you were a nice girl. Won’t you even say hello?”
I dig my nails into the palms of my hands. “Hello,” I murmur, not meeting his eyes.
“That’s better.” He shifts, his body easing closer to mine. “So, I saw you in there. Getting pretty cozy with Owen, huh?”
My back is flat against the wall behind me and the coldness of the bricks cuts through my sweater. “He’ll be out here soon. With Lexie and West and Felix.”
“We’re just talking.”
He wheezes out a little laugh and the scent I couldn’t name before suddenly clarifies itself: alcohol. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner: He was pouring alcohol from a flask into his pop can. Tucker’s body is so close to mine I can feel the heat radiating off him, but if I’m quick, I might be able to duck around him, get out from between him and the wall. I take in a breath and dart sideways, but Tucker is fast, grabbing me around the middle and pulling my back snugly against his front.
“Come on, Krissa, don’t be like that. You’re friendly enough with Owen. I just wanna have a conversation.”
I struggle against his arms, but it’s no use; his grip is too strong. My heart kicks into overdrive and I feel heat building in my stomach like it has a million times before, just before something bad happened. For the first time, I don’t want to push it down. I understand it. Closing my eyes, I focus my attention on the sensation, on the energy, and like the flame I ignited at Crystal’s house or the thoughts I shared with Owen earlier, I imagine exactly what I want this power to do.
The heat within me builds to critical mass. And for once, I’m not afraid.
A hoarse cry escapes my lips as the energy leaves my body. I feel it go, and I sense its direction: behind me. At Tucker.
Tucker’s grip on my abdomen loosens and he stumbles backward, a surprised cry emanating from his mouth. I turn and he’s on the ground, nearly flat on his back, his eyes wide. A shaft of light appears, stretching across his supine form, and I know Owen has exited the store before I look up to see him standing there. I can feel him.
The fear that filled me only moments ago is nothing compared to the anger radiating off Owen as he approaches us. His eyes are glued on Tucker as he moves so he is standing in front of me, between the two of us.
“What happened?”
“Crazy bitch! We were just talking and she attacked me!” Tucker scrambles to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction.
“He’s drunk, Owen. He had me pinned against the wall and when I tried to get away, he grabbed me.”
Tucker snorts. “She wishes. Owen, you better keep that girl in line, or next time I might not be so nice to her. It won’t be so easy to get the drop on me a second time.”
Owen lunges at Tucker so fast, Tucker doesn’t even open his mouth in surprise. He releases a yelp of pain when his head collides with the brick wall of the bookstore, just inches from where I was positioned moments before. “There won’t be a next time,” Owen says, his voice low and dangerous. “You will not talk to her, you will not look at her, you will not think about her, because if you do, I’ll know about it. Is that understood?”
Tucker attempts to peel himself from the wall, but Owen slams him backward again, his forearm against Tucker’s throat to hold him in place. Tucker sputters, his fingers digging at the wall behind him.
“Is it understood?”
The door opens again and Lexie, Bria, West, and Felix spill out just as Tucker murmurs, “Yeah, man. Yeah.” The four of them freeze, mouths open, as Owen releases Tucker and shoves him roughly down the sidewalk.
No one speaks for several seconds. Finally, Owen breaks the silence. “Krissa, come on. Let me get you home.”
A few minutes earlier I was sure I’d have to bum a ride home from Lexie, but so much has changed in the last couple minutes. I walk beside Owen toward his parking spot. He stays in lockstep with me, but he’s careful not to let his arm bump mine as we walk. The scene with Tucker replays itself over and over in my mind. The sound of Owen’s voice, the force he used when he knocked Tucker into the wall. I know Tucker isn’t one of his favorite people, but I never would have pictured Owen capable of such violence toward anyone. I don’t know what to think about it.
We don’t speak during the drive and I’m thankful Jodi’s house is only a few minutes away. In all my experience with him, Owen has been kind and playful. Never in a million years would I have imagined he was capable of the violence I witnessed tonight.
Owen pulls into the driveway and puts his car in park. I place my hand on the door but make no move to open it. I keep my eyes fixed on the glove compartment.
“You’re upset,” Owen murmurs.
I sneak a glance at him, but he’s staring at his white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel. “A little.”
“But not because of what Tucker did.”
Guilt swoops in my stomach. Is that true? In the moment, I was so terrified of what Tucker might do to me, but after the sound of Owen’s voice, the look in his eyes, I’m not sure how to feel. “I’ve never seen you like that.”
He shakes his head, running both hands through his hair before turning to face me. “I’m not usually like that. Whatever happened tonight, that’s not usually me. But when I walked out and saw what was happening... I could see what was on his mind.” He closes his eyes. “I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kill him.”
I shiver. “You can’t mean that.”
When he opens his eyes, they are filled with a pain I can’t identify. His mouth twitches. “The idea of him hurting you. Krissa, I couldn’t handle that. I... I care about you too much.”
A prickling sensation gathers in the corners of my eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He reaches forward, caressing my cheek with his fingers. “I’m sorry this night went so crazy. It was going so well until...”
I manage a smile. “It was?”
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “It was so cool to be able to share those thoughts with you. I’m glad... I’m glad you’re like me. You can understand me.”
I press my lips together. Of course. That’s why he cares about me: We’re both the same kind of freak. I can understand this strange ability he has. And he can practice on me. I’m his guinea pig. I touch his wrist and pull his hand from my face. “I should get in the house before Jodi starts to worry.”
Before he can respond, I open the door and slip out of the car. I was stupid to think Owen might have feelings for me, just me. Tears gather in my eyes and my vision blurs. I’m halfway to the porch when I hear his car door slam. By the time I reach the front door, Owen is at my side. He places his hand over mine when I grab for the doorknob.
“What’s wrong?”
I don’t look at him. “Nothing. I don’t want Jodi to worry.”
“Are you mad at me?” He removes his hand from mine. “Are you scared of me now?”
“Of course not.” I squeeze my eyes closed and wipe at my cheek when a tear escapes through my lashes. “I’m just...” I turn toward him, opening my eyes. “I’m tired and—”
Owen leans toward me so quickly I can’t react. His lips find mine and press there gently, but insistently, like he’s been waiting to do this and can’t allow another second to pass. His hands cup my cheeks, fingers threading through the hair at my temples.
I don’t kiss him back. I stand stock still, too shocked to move.
&n
bsp; Owen pulls away, eyes wide and apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I thought... I mean, you’re the one who shared…” He hangs his head, running a hand through his hair. “Wow, I feel like an ass. I’m... I’ll just go now.”
It’s not until he’s back at the top stair of the porch that my body and mind sync up. I cross the distance between us in two large steps and grab his shoulder, spinning him to face me. He flinches when my hands move toward his face, but I don’t slap him. I lock my fingers behind his neck and pull his face down to mine, my lips finally sure of what to do. Owen’s hands slide around my waist and he pulls me close to him, so close I can’t tell where my body ends and his begins. I part my lips and he deepens the kiss tentatively. I slide my fingers through the soft hair at the base of his neck.
No matter how many times I’ve imagined this moment, not one of them even dimly compares to the reality.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I’m not sure how much time elapses before Owen and I separate, but when we do, I feel like a part of me has been torn away. His fingers tuck my hair behind my ears. “I’ve gotta go,” he murmurs.
“I know.”
He leans in and feathers another kiss on my lips and I press him away gently.
“Go,” I say softly, “or I’m not going to be able to let you leave.”
A spasm crosses his face and he takes a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns and descends the stairs and starts across the yard. Halfway to his car, he spins to face me. “Just… don’t change your mind.”
I shake my head. “No way.”
My hand trembles and my breathing is uneven when I open the door. I attempt to conceal my smile as I step over the threshold, hoping Jodi hasn’t been watching through the window, but also not caring if she has. But Jodi isn’t in the living room. She’s not in the kitchen or the sitting room, either. It’s late, but not too late, and I doubt she’s in bed yet, which leaves one place she could be: the greenhouse.
I’m halfway down the hallway when I hesitate. My first kiss is something I would feel weird about sharing with my mom—is it something I should be so excited to share with my aunt? I pivot and start back down the hall. Maybe I can call Lexie or Bria. But I go no more than three steps before turning back, the smile on my face too broad to suppress. I have to tell someone, and I want to tell Jodi.
The greenhouse door creaks when I open it. A bank of grow lights against the wall on my right sheds an eerie pallor over the room, the leaves of the plants casting large silhouettes across the floor.
“Jodi?” I peer through the shadows, expecting to find her pruning something or hanging some herbs to dry, but I don’t see her. I step further into the room, a thrill of dread coursing through me. I shake it off. Maybe Jodi has gone to bed. She’s been having a rough time since Mrs. Cole died, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t feel up to staying up late. I sigh. That must be it. I’m about to turn when something catches my eye.
Jodi.
She’s lying on the floor, legs bent at right angles, head resting on her arm, hair splayed around her. For a moment, I’m convinced she’s asleep. But the sweeping dread sinks lower in my stomach as I approach her. “Jodi?”
She doesn’t stir and my heartbeat picks up. I shake her shoulder but she doesn’t respond. I shake her harder, frantic. She rolls onto her back and her eyelids flutter.
“Hey, wake up.”
It takes almost a full minute before Jodi’s eyes open and fix on mine. “Where… What…?”
“You’re in the greenhouse.”
She tries to sit up, but I push her back toward the ground. “I came out here after I got home from work...”
“What happened?”
Her head rocks from side to side. “I was watering the plants and… I think… I got dizzy, so I reached for the table to hold onto.” She presses her hand to her forehead. “Maybe I slipped and hit my head?”
The light in the greenhouse isn’t good, but I don’t detect a cut or bruise. “Have you eaten today?”
Her eyes squeeze shut. “A yogurt and a granola bar… Maybe.”
I sigh. “Jodi.”
“I know,” she murmurs.
I pull my phone from my back pocket. “I should call someone—”
She shakes her head. “You don’t need to do that. Just… help me to my room.”
I do as Jodi asks, but it doesn’t sit well with me.
“I think you should go to the hospital,” I say, watching as Jodi settles back against her pillow and pulls the blanket up over her arms.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital. I just need to eat more tomorrow.”
I press my lips together. “You should eat now. I’ll go get you something.”
“No,” she says firmly. “My stomach’s a little sour. I’ll call someone tomorrow if I’m not feeling better. For now I think I just need some sleep.”
A knot twists in my stomach. I don’t like this. What if there’s something really wrong with her? What if I come to wake her up tomorrow morning and she doesn’t open her eyes…?
I shake the thought from my head. No, she’s fine. She just hasn’t been sleeping or eating right—she’s been too upset about her friend’s death. She’ll be fine tomorrow.
I turn off her light and close the bedroom door behind me. Instead of heading to my room, I go down to the greenhouse. I don’t know what all the herbs are yet, but I know enough to select some to make a tea for her tomorrow.
It takes me longer than I anticipate to collect the herbs and ready the tea kettle so it’s set to boil first thing in the morning.
When I finally go to bed, my sleep is fitful at best. I drift toward unconsciousness, my mind replaying the kiss with Owen, the way his body felt against mine, but then my thoughts turn to Jodi on the floor, the icy cold fear that filled my body at the sight.
When my eyes snap open at a little after six Saturday morning, I feel as if I haven’t slept at all. Groggy, I leave my room and make my way to Jodi’s, easing the door open just enough to peek in at her. In the dim light, I can’t make out her face, just the outline of her body. I hold my breath, waiting for movement. I don’t want to wake her, but I also want to make sure she will wake up. I step into the room and squint through the darkness. I detect the rise and fall of her chest and find I’m able to breathe again too.
I make my way to the kitchen to double check that the tea is ready to be brewed as soon as Jodi wakes up. The task doesn’t take long and I’m too full of nervous energy to sit down, so I start putting together a small buffet of breakfast choices. I’m cutting up an apple when I hear Jodi coughing. I turn on the tea kettle before heading upstairs.
Jodi’s coughing fit ends just before I enter her room. Her complexion is ashen. “That doesn’t sound good.”
She props herself up against her headboard. “I feel so strange. Like, I don’t feel sick in my head, but my body feels really worn down.”
“You should eat. I made you a little spread to choose from. Do you want me to bring it up here?”
“No.” She slides her legs off the edge of the bed. “Help me downstairs.”
Between Jodi’s dizzy spells and coughing fits, it takes us several minutes to get to the sitting room. I help her settle onto the couch and cover her with an afghan before heading to the kitchen for her breakfast and tea. When I hand her the mug, she sniffs it and smiles. “Good job.”
Jodi selects bites of food to eat and makes faces as she chews each one. I watch her carefully, my arms crossed over my chest. “You’ve got to eat.”
“I know. It’s just… It all kind of tastes like sawdust.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want you passing out again.”
Jodi manages a half smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
She works her way around the plate slowly and manages to eat only about a quarter of what’s there. She’s more successful with the tea and even requests a second mug.
When I set the second cup of tea on the coffee table, she asks, “C
ould you run to the shop for me?”
My stomach clenches. She wants me to open the store? “I don’t think I’m ready. I mean, I’m learning the ropes, but I’m still not really good with the cash register—”
Jodi waves a hand at me. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to run the shop.” She holds up her cell. “Devin can’t get there until around noon. Could you just put signs up in both the doors saying that’s when the store will open and apologizing for the inconvenience?”
Relief sweeps over me, but I don’t stand. “I don’t want to leave you.”
She smiles. “You won’t be gone long. Besides, I’ve got a couple friends coming over to check up on me.”
“Is one of them a doctor?”
“No. No doctors.”
She doesn’t need to tell me who they are. A thought buzzes in my mind: She’s called the members of her old circle. They don’t practice anymore, but they possess more knowledge of magic and healing than I do. Instead of relying on me to fumble through figuring out which herb is which, she’s calling in reinforcements. “It’s good you’re calling them,” I say, standing.
She shakes her head, letting out a breathy laugh. “That’ll take some getting used to. Are you finding it’s easier to direct your abilities now that you know what they are?”
I nod. “I’ve been trying to practice—with Owen.” I can’t suppress the smile that upturns the corners of my mouth when I say his name.
Jodi opens her mouth, most likely to tease me, but a coughing fit overtakes her. I move to her side, grabbing the mug off the table and pressing it into her hand. When the coughs subside enough, she takes a series of small sips of the tea. I press my lips together and she shakes her head. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
I don’t want to leave her, but I know I should. She’s right: I won’t be gone long. I would insist on waiting until her friends get here, but the store is supposed to open in ten minutes and it would be rude to leave customers outside with no knowledge of why the doors are still locked. “Call me if you need anything.” She nods and I take in a breath. “If your friends can’t figure out how to help you, promise you’ll call a doctor.”
Crystal Magic (Clearwater Witches Book 1) Page 19