Chapter 2
Two
Istare at the lighthouse for too long, at the old truck parked beside it, and I tell myself something I know is a lie.
It could be someone else in the house.
Greg, the old lighthouse keeper, passed away months ago. Half a year now, almost.
Maybe it’s… not him.
Sweat drips down between my shoulders, and I’m no longer sure it’s from my morning workout. I would have known if Caleb was back. I would have heard if Greg had left Watchmere Light to Caleb. His uncle, Greg, would have told me. Someone in Silverlight Shore would have heard.
Right?
“I would have had a vision,” I mutter, and Gunner glances up at me, tongue lolling out, nose sprinkled with sand. “I would have seen it,” I insist, voice strangled.
“Seen what?” a voice I haven’t heard in a decade says behind me.
My knees go weak. I turn, slowly, knowing who’s behind me… remembering what it felt like when we were beside each other last.
“Hi, Ivy.” Caleb smiles down at me in a way that makes my too aware heart thudding against my rib cage. The barest crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the tiny tug of his lips up, more like he’s thinking about smiling and has decided against it. “Nice of you to drop by.”
He’s been swimming, chest bare, wider than I remember, like his time away from me made him larger. More solid.
Infinitely more real.
Water sparkles on the neatly trimmed beard that seems more rugged than I remember, more salt than the pepper in my mind.
Time did, indeed, pass while he was away. It never stands still, not for anyone. Why would I hope it might not have?
His eyebrows, still dark, still thick, raise slightly — waiting for a response.
Gunner barks, thrilled, bounding around him and spraying sand in every direction.
Caleb leans down, muscles in his chest flexing, to scratch Gunner’s favorite spot behind his ears.
He remembered. Of course he did.
My dog’s tongue lolls out, and he rolls onto his back, all four paws in the air as Caleb squats next to him, beaming up at me as he scratches Gunner’s soft black underbelly.
“He’s aged better than I have,” Caleb says with a laugh. “And he’s happy to see me, at least.”
I blink, hugging my arms around my chest. “I—”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Caleb says as I try to formulate a cohesive response that isn’t just me repeating a tremulous “I” over and over again.
In the distance, a ship’s foghorn sounds, and we both ignore it. Rimmed with dark lashes, his eyes are a dark, melted brown, and I couldn’t work with chocolate for months after we broke up years ago.
It reminded me of him.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I say, and I hate the way my voice breaks on the words, like waves crashing over the jetty.
Caleb’s dark brown eyes drop to Gunner again. “You know, I always said it’s like that dog can almost talk, and I forgot how true that is.”
Gunner grins up at him in that doggy way. Caleb has no idea how true it is.
“He would have a lot to say, I’m sure,” I manage, pushing an errant lock of sweaty hair off my face.
Gunner barks, his tail thumping from side to side so hard that I can’t help grinning down at him. He always did love Caleb.
It’s impossible not to.
“I should have…”
“I have to—”
We both stop, watching each other closely, dance partners out of sync after a long time apart.
“How long has it been?” Caleb asks, squinting at me as the sun clears a cloud.
“Long,” I say simply. One word, one syllable — a world full of meaning. Of restless nights and tear-soaked days, of frustration and longing and bittersweet regret.
All my candy those first few months turned out wrong.
Crystalized sugar in the fudge, toffee that never set, caramel that burnt.
I had to stop trying to make new recipes. My sisters helped when they could.
None of us knew heartbreak could affect our magic. Now we know heartbreak is a curse all its own.
Better than the alternative, though, because Caleb is still here. He’s alive, I mean.
I didn’t expect for him to be here, in Silverlight Shore, at all.
“Long,” he repeats the word. “You didn’t know I was in town.”
It’s not a question. I don’t have to answer it.
I nod anyway, my throat bobbing, the scar tissue where my love for him lived ripped open and raw all over again. “Are you—”
“I’m staying. For a while. I should have…” he trails off, and I force my gaze away, watching the gulls dip and dive over the roiling water.
“I’m sure everyone’s glad you’re back,” I say, my voice too bright, too normal. My gaze slips back to him.
Fake. He knows it, too. Knows me too well, still, after all this time apart.
“It’s good to see you, Ivy Romantic.” He says my name slowly, as if he’s savoring the taste of it on his tongue.
“How long will you… be here?” I shouldn’t have asked it. I shouldn’t want to know.
I’m desperate to know and to run back home, tail tucked between my legs.
Gunner nudges his cold nose against my bare calf, whining softly.
He knows I’m upset. He’s my familiar, after all.
“I’m not sure yet.” Caleb looks like he knows damn well I’m upset too, but he’s smart enough not to say anything either. “I’ll let you get back to your run.”
“See you around,” I say, my voice chipper and high-pitched and wrong.
The little jaunty wave I give as I set back off for the boardwalk and home is wrong too, and it isn’t until I make it back inside the old Victorian that I realize it’s not just sweat dripping down my cheeks.
I broke up with him for the best reasons, for the same reason all four of us Romantic girls stay out of relationships.
Because we’re cursed and love only ever brings us pain.
As I cry softly in the shower, Gunner’s nails clicking on the floor as he paces in the bathroom, though, I wonder, not for the first time, if it would have been better if I’d never met Caleb at all.
“I can’t believe he’s back,” Gunner says, voice quiet and unexpected.
Sniffling, I keep washing my hair, surprised he’s speaking at all.
He doesn’t talk as much as my sister’s familiars, and thankfully not nearly as much as Prudence, a cat that’s one of my best friend’s familiars.
“Don’t cry, Ivy.” Gunner’s nose presses against the wavy glass, and I hiccup a little laugh between cries. “You said you would always be friends, remember? Don’t let this ruin your day.”
“I won’t,” I say, sighing shakily.
It won’t ruin my day.
Caleb being back in town will probably ruin the rest of the year.
Because how do I go back to pretending I’m not still in love with someone when that person is right in front of me again?