Page 87 of Spell Ya Later

“Laura.” I stand as well, taking a step toward her. “Would you like to stay with me? Or at least with Grandma? I can’t imagine you in that big house by yourself. I don’t think it’s good for you.”

“I’ll think about it. But for now, I just want to go home,” she says. With a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, she turns and leaves.

I’ve never been more worried about her in my life. Where is my funny, over the top, Pink Puke Mobile Laura? This sad, broken person who doesn’t trust me barely resembles her.

My gaze drops to Noah. His breathing is finally even, his face a peaceful calm. At least someone is resting.

Despite how comfortableGrandma’s chairs are, sleeping all squished up is a young woman’s game. My aches have aches.

But I will not leave his side.

I stretch my arms above my head, several pops and cracks rippling up my back, and readjust. I’m so tired I can’t open my eyes, but I refuse to move. I was so close to losing him forever and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to leave him again.

“Hazel?” Noah’s voice is as rough as sandpaper.

My eyes snap open with force and I turn to him. He’s barely awake, eyes bleary and eyelids drooping. But he’s awake.

A full body sob shakes me as I fling myself forward to grab his hand. He’s awake.

He’s awake.

“I’m here,” I finally manage to reply. “I’m here, Noah.” I grab the full glass of water on the bedside table and lift it to his lips. He drinks it greedily, spilling some on his chin and shirt in his enthusiasm.

He drains the cup and I place it back, reaching for his hand once more. “You’re safe now.”

His hand slips away from mine.

“Hazel, I need an explanation, because what I remember...” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Shit. It’s not like this is surprising. I knew I’d have to explain all of this to him. But how do I explain something I barelyunderstand myself? Explain something that I haven’t even begun to fully process?

Years of therapy are a prerequisite to this conversation, and I have had none. I have to attempt it, though. I really have no other choice.

Today is the day for hard conversations, that’s for damn sure.

I breathe in. “I wanted us to talk when we woke up. I wanted to explain everything to you myself when we were relaxed and safe, after you told me you loved me. I’m sorry that this happened this way, that I wasn’t able to tell you myself.”

He stares at me, brown-black eyes hard under those goddamn bushy eyebrows I love so much.

“I’m a witch.”

Apparently we’re going for blunt today.

“I figured it was something like that, considering the giant monsters that picked me up from your place. I don’t remember anything after that, was I unconscious?” Anger flares in his eyes. He hasn’t tried to touch me.

I nod. “They knocked you out. You’ve only been out for about twenty-four hours.”

Craziest twenty-four hours of my goddamn life, that’s for sure. A breeze whips the candles to flicker on the table with the erratic beating of my heart.

With a wince he lifts his hand and rubs the back of his neck, curls bouncing in front of his face. Even now, even with him as frustrated and upset as he visibly is, the simple motion causes my heart to swoop up into my throat. I love this man so much.

Even if he refuses to ever speak to me again, I’ll never not love him.

“It’s not even that you are what you are.”

Jesus, okay. Ouch.

He clears his raspy throat. “It’s that you lied. And it’s not even a small lie, a lie about what your favorite food is or if youhate my hair or the way I laugh. You lied about your very being, about what makes you who you are. You hid something vital to your entire person from me.”