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“What? Give me a list of all your previous boyfriends, and I’ll have their eyeballs gouged from their skulls,” I say.

“Callum! Oh, my gosh,” she laughs, amusement flickering across her gaze as she studies me.

“What?” I ask, glancing her way for a second. “They clearly weren’t using them.”

“Ha, ha,” she says, her expression turning more serious. “But no, you’re the first to sound like you actually mean the words when you say them. Like they mean more to you than just syllables and letters. It feels like you aren’t expecting a transaction when you say them.”

I wasn’t aware I had a heart, but it breaks for her in this moment. It makes me wonder who made her feel that way—who hurt her. The thought makes me feel all murdery inside, and I don’t enjoy that as much as I once did. Lydia makes me want to be better, if only for her.

“They’re all morons and clearly fucking wrong. The offer still stands to have their eyeballs removed. I know a guy, just say the word,” I say, placing one of my hands over hers.

She laughs softly, the light thankfully returning to her eyes. “They can keep their eyeballs. I’ve already hexed them all, anyway,” she says, triumphant.

I turn her way, raising a brow in question. “Did you really?” I ask, slightly aroused by the thought of it.

“Maybe,” she says. “A good witch never hexes and tells.”

“Ah, is that what you did to me?” I ask, grinning like the damn love-struck fool that I am.

“Nah,” she says. “For you, I went all out. I performed a very intricate love spell under the full moon while dancing around the homemade voodoo doll that I crafted of you.”

“Is that so?” I ask, barely able to hide my amusement. “And did this love spell work?” My voice catches on the word love, and I wonder if she notices. I regret asking as soon as the question registers in my stupid brain.

“Dunno,” she says, turning in her seat toward me. “You tell me.” I turn her way briefly, catching a glimpse of her waiting expression.

“I-uh, oh, we’re here,” I say, avoiding her question as I turn into Atlantic Grounds, the graveyard where my sister is buried.

I want to tell Lydia that I love her, I do. But this moment doesn’t seem enigmatic enough for the weight of what I feel for her. She deserves more. She deserves everything. I want to make sure that when I tell Lydia Aston that I love her, she doesn’t question a single fucking thing about it.

She shifts awkwardly in her seat, all too aware of my inability to answer a simple question. She goes to speak, but stops short once she catches sight of where we are.

“Oh, Callum,” she says, staring out the window as we drive toward the back of the graveyard. Once I reach a parking area near Kaila’s headstone, I park and turn toward Lydia.

“I hope that it’s okay that I brought you here,” I start, removing my seat belt as she does the same. “I just … I know that Kaila would want to meet the woman who now occupies my every thought.”

Lydia stares at me in awe, nodding in silence. I give her a soft smile, exiting the car to walk around and open her door for her. I extend my hand, and she grabs it, the warmth of her skin against mine a reminder of why bringing her here was the right choice. She leans into me as we walk over to Kaila’s grave.

The heart-shaped headstone comes into view, and I stop, taking a seat on the small bench across from it. Lydia does the same, sitting down beside me. I study Lydia as she reads the words carved into the stone, gasping as her gaze snaps to mine.

“July twenty-second? Callum, that’s today! Oh my gosh, why didn’t you say something? I would have let you come and visit her alone. I-I’m so—”

“Shhh, love. It’s okay,” I say, grabbing her hand and bringing it to my lips. I place a soft kiss against her skin, holding her hand there for a moment longer. “I wanted to do this with you. I’m happy you’re here.”

“Thank you, Callum. It truly means the world to me,” she says, leaning her head against my shoulder. Several moments of comfortable silence go by before I can bring myself to speak.

“She would have loved you, you know,” I say, pausing to gather my thoughts as I stare at the butterfly etched into the headstone. “Butterflies were kind of her thing. Every time one would land on her, she’d say that it was a version of her from a past life, or an alternate universe. Sometimes she’d say it was a kindred spirit, the soul of a loved one, or something crazy like that. And it was so weird, because they’d always find her. Everywhere we went, a beautiful butterfly would find Kaila and perch itself on her hand or her arm. This one time”—I pause, laughing softly as the memory resurfaces in my mind—“a big blue butterfly landed right on her cheek. She was so still, allowing the little thing to remain there for as long as it liked.”

I allow the memory to wash over me, reminding me of all the good times I was granted before my sister was taken from me. On a heavy sigh, I begin speaking again.

“My sister was so kind, so gentle. She believed in the unseen things. She’d always say she knew that her time was short, and that she’d make sure to live her life as fully as possible before her final moments. I’d always tell her to shut up and stop being so damn morbid, and she’d just smile and keep rambling on. She knew. She knew that she was going to die young, and she lived fully despite the fact. How fucked is that?”

“Oh, Callum,” Lydia says, running her hand up and down my bicep reassuringly as a tear manages to slip free. I sniffle, wiping a hand over my cheek to absolve the evidence. “She sounds lovely.”

“I just … I know how much she’d have loved you. You remind me so much of her sometimes. So kind and full of life,” I say, my voice strained as I hold back the sob threatening to consume me as all the memories of Kaila resurface at lightning speed.

Lydia stands, turning until she’s standing between my thighs. I grab and tug her to me, burying my face in the material of her top. She cradles the back of my head against her, running a hand down the back of my hair in reassuring strokes.

“Callum,” Lydia gasps, pulling from my embrace. “Look at this. Oh my god.”