It’s only when someone turns the knob on the door and shoves from the other side that everything comes back into sharp focus. I’m not the only one, as Kaleb blinks rapidly while pulling us away from the door.
An orderly snorts when she sees us in flushed disarray. I can only imagine how red and swollen my mouth must look, and I know I have a blooming hickey on my neck. It’s no secret what we were doing in here.
Raising her eyebrows, she informs us, “We need this room for a patient, so you’re going to have to wrap this up.” She gives us an up and down, then snorts again. “I’ll give you a few minutes to straighten up.”
As soon as she leaves, Kaleb steps away from me like he’s just been doused by the coldest waters of the Atlantic. He covers his mouth with his hand, looking at me like he can’t believe what he just did.
Not again!
“You better not apologize,” I snarl, my hands fisted on my hips. “Or call it a mistake.”
His hand drops from his mouth and confusion clouds his gaze. He tries to read past my pinched expression, murmuring, “Then what was it?”
“I…don’t know,” I say honestly, still tingling from everywhere he touched me. “You kissed me, so you figure it out. But it’s not a mistake. It’s not.” With a stomp, I march over, plant another hard kiss on his lips, then, before sweeping out the door, I order, “Figure. It. Out. And while you’re at it, I’m going back to Phoenix the Friday after Thanksgiving. I’d like you there with me, but it’s your decision to go.”
With that statement, I flounce out of the room still looking like a flustered mess, but too overwhelmed to care. First, Nolan.Okay, technically I kissed him first. Then Connor. Well, I can’t actually recall who kissed who first on that one—it’s kind of muddled into a crazy make out sensation—but he definitely was an active participant.And now Kaleb!There’s no doubt he kissed me first—so much so, I think I forgot my name there for a second.I know Nolan told me that each of us decides what is and isn’t okay within a friendship—I was straddling his lap at the time—but I’m pretty sure kissing blurs those lines.Right? Ugh, boys!
I ignore the little voice that points out it’s not like I’ve been trying to fend them off—still fanning itself over the dance with Nolan and Donovan at the Halloween party—because that would require examining my feelings on the subject. ‘Duh, I like them all because who wouldn’t?’ doesn’t seem particularly helpful and makes me sound fickle.
Needing time to cool off, I search for the closest bathroom. Instead, I find the patient that needs the room. The orderlies are wheeling the unconscious boy no more than a few years older than me down the hall.
Following him is a doctor and likely the boy’s mother, as she cries, “I don’t understand. Why are you bringing him here? He’s going to wake up. He’s going to get better!”
“As I told your husband, your son needs more long term care and a bed was available here,” the doctor soothes, but there’s dim hope in her eyes. It’s clear she wants to wait until they get into the room to discuss the boy, but his mother seems to have a vise-like grip on the doctor’s arm. She sighs, capitulating, “We’re remaining positive about your son’s condition, but you need to prepare for the worst. There’s a possibility he’ll never wake up, and if he does, he won’t be the same.”
The mother wraps her arms around the doctor, sobbing, “Did I kill my baby? He told me he was tired and having headaches, but I thought it was only the stress of his freshman year. I told him to takevitamins.”
“Please, Mrs. McGowen,” the doctor interrupts, her eyes telegraphing a ‘help me’ look to a nearby orderly. “Let’s go to your son’s room, and we can talk in more depth about his condition.”
The orderly helps pry Mrs. McGowen from the doctor, gently leading her the rest of the way down the hall, with the relieved doctor trailing behind them.
My entire body goes into a rapid free fall, because there he is. The sadistic answer to my morbid prayers. A body for Felix.
I just have to let him die first.
Chapter 14
Callie
I’m so anxious, I feel like I’ll vibrate out of my own skin. It’s D-day, aka the day after Thanksgiving. Both the Wards and Campbells invited us over yesterday to join in their feasts, but my aunt politely declined, after taking one look at me pacing all over the damn house to know that I wouldn’t be able to eat a bite.
The past week and a half has zoomed past, with nothing technically changing, but everything still seemingly different. It all sounded so much easier when I suggested going to Arizona back on Nolan’s birthday, but with each passing day, what I’m prepared to do has become more real. Will I break? And what does it mean if I do? There’s nothing in the journals about what happens if a spirit witch loses her mind.
Fortunately for our trip, the Campbells graciously lent us their private plane—turns out Nolan wasn’t joking about the second hangar not having room for more of his car collection—so that we wouldn’t face the madness of commercial air or driving. Now, we wait at their private airstrip for the others to arrive. Who that all encompasses is still unknown to me.
“Connor should be leaving soon, then Felix will pop over to say goodbye,” Nolan informs me, handing me a bottle of water.
I nod, twisting the cap of the bottle but not taking a drink. Instead, looking out through the private lounge window, I watch my aunt on the phone, pacing with a hard expression on her face. She’s been on the phone a lot recently.
The hangar’s lounge isn’t much. A comfortable set of couches, a TV on the wall, small bar, and stocked fridge fill the medium-sized room. Since it’s only an hour from the Campbell home, it really doesn’t need to be more than a place to sit while waiting for the plane to be readied.
With my stomach twisting into knots within knots, and my hands shaking so badly water drips down the side of the bottle, I blurt, “Nolan, I need you to tell me something.”
“What is it?” he inquires, his face serious as he leans against the wall beside me.
I take a deep breath, attempting to release it slowly, because it feels like my lungs refuse to hold on to air long enough for me to breathe. In a small voice, I confess, “I need you to tell me I’m doing the right thing. I know…you don’t approve of magic, so if you say it, then…”
“I don’t think there is a right or wrong answer,” he says with a sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him twisting the cap on and off of his own water bottle. “Fuck, Callie. You’re literally about to walk into your personal hell to save one of my best friends.” He twists the cap so hard on the bottle, the tips of his fingers go red. “Call me a hypocrite, but I want my friend back—even if it requires magic to do it, so whatever you have to do, I’ll back you.”
