Chapter 24
Mateo
Charlie neatly lines up her crystals on the deck, ensuring each has full access to the powers of the moon.
Her blond hair shines beneath the moonlight, the strands like spun gold as she pushes loose curls away from her face. I’ve been breathless from the moment she appeared at the top of the steps, timid but with a tentative smile.
I’m staring at her like a lovestruck idiot as she fiddles with her impressive collection of rocks, treating each one with the utmost care.
“Okay,” she mutters, sitting back on her knees. The dress billows out as she repositions, offering me a peek of what’s beneath—or rather, what’s not . Besides a thin strip of lace, it’s nothing but bare skin.
My stomach drops, lust settling at the base of my spine.
“The moonlight cleanses the energy the crystal holds and recharges it with positive energy while reestablishing its natural properties,” Charlie explains .
Her energy is infectious, and I can’t help but fall into her excitement as she scoots closer, leaning against my arm.
“Where did your love of crystals come from?”
I’ve always wanted to know why she enjoys collecting the stones. They hold deep meaning for her, but I’ve never been in a place where I felt comfortable to ask. Until now.
“My parents bought me one of those gemstone dig sets, and once I unearthed the first one, I was intrigued. Then I learned each had meaning and intention, and they called to me. I don’t know as much as others, but they offer me a sense of peace and direction when I feel lost.” She trails off, unsure of herself. “It’s silly.”
“I don’t think so. How old were you?”
“Nineteen,” she admits, and I let out a small chuckle. She picks up a dark-green stone, marbled with lighter swirls, and places it in my palm. “You can have this one. It’s moss agate. It’s supposed to help with stress.” The crystal is cool to the touch. “It reminds me of your eyes.”
She offers the small confession with a bright blush, and I slip the stone into my pocket. My heart beats double time as I lean down to steal a kiss. When we break, her irises glitter with starlight.
“Now what do we do?” I whisper.
The crystals line up to form a star, the largest at the center, surrounded by the smaller stones—a small hole where she removed the moss agate. I know very little about crystals for healing energy, or the powers the moon holds, but there’s power in Charlie’s smile.
“This is it,” she whispers back, her focus locked on the crystals.
Are they going to move? Or shine? Or do anything other than sit on the deck?
“You’re not a very good witch,” I joke, and she bites the inside of her cheek. I run my fingers through my hair. “No wonder your curse didn’t work.”
She groans, folding her arms.
“It wasn’t my fault. It was the spell. ”
“Oh?”
“I needed a lock of your hair for the recipe, but I couldn’t figure out how to cut a piece off without you noticing, so Amy and I left it out.” She gives me a look. “That’s obviously why it didn’t work.”
“Obviously,” I assure her, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her onto my lap.
She squeals, the sound inciting a pounding in my chest as she giggles and melts in my arms.
This moment, right here, is what I’ve been waiting for. Everything seems so unimportant, so trivial, when I’m with her.
“Mi bruja,” I whisper, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.
I’ve spent so long waiting, hoping, yearning for something to happen, it feels surreal, almost dreamlike now.
It’s foolish to admit I’ve spent so long desperate for Charlie to take a shot on me, but it’s my truth.
I’ve never had a doubt in my mind about her.
It only took a few moments to know Charlie was meant to exist in my life forever.
People dedicate their lives to a cause—curing cancer, saving biodiversity, helping others—but I think…I think if Charlie let me, I would be content to dedicate my life to loving her.
“Why do you call me that?”
“Do you really want to know?”
She hesitates before nodding.
“When we first met, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
I would hear your laugh in the hallway and chase the sound.
I would try to convince Dan to host co-advisor meetings so I could spend time with you.
You had cast a spell on me, so you became my witch.
Mi bruja. Cursing me to fall for you all over again every time you would offer me a smile. ”
She’s quiet in response to my confession, but her eyes have always been expressive, a window into her emotions, and right now, the surprise in them is unmistakable. They say everything she can’t, and I don’t need to hear the words to know my answer was the last thing she expected.
“Mi bruja,” she parrots, trying to roll the r off her tongue. Once, twice, three times she repeats the endearment, whispering it to herself and growing more confident with each pass of the words.
A surprised laugh tumbles out of me as she darts in and steals a kiss.
“I like it. The nickname, I mean.” She pauses. “Well, I used to hate it, but now…now I like it. You can keep using it,” she declares.
“I’m glad you approve.”
She leans into my chest, her head falling to rest on my shoulder. “It makes me feel a bit bad that I call you an annoying asshole.”
Now would be a good time to fess up that her nickname doesn’t mean what she thinks it does, but I can’t do it. I fucking love how she calls me carino with that shit-eating grin like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever said.
It will undoubtedly bite me in the ass when she figures it out, but fuck it, I’m not telling her.
I hum, ending the conversation before she gets bit by the inquisitive bug and asks a few too many questions. She’s a scientist, after all. Curiosity runs in her veins.
We sit in a comfortable silence, listening to the waves crash against the vessel and staring up at the night sky, full of twinkling stars.
I snake my arm around her shoulder, tugging her tighter toward off the creeping chill.
Her bare skin is cool, and I lay a palm down on the bare flesh to warm her up.
Half a dozen scars press against my hand, and my thumb swipes over a raised one beneath her collarbone. She tracks my hand as I jump from one to another.
I haven’t asked how she received them, and I told myself I never would.
The origin of her wounds is not a story you can ask for; it’s knowledge that needs to be given, offered because she trusts me enough to hold some of the weight for her.
Because that’s what these scars are—a heavy weight she’s held on her own.
She scans the night sky, lost somewhere in her mind. When she returns to reality, tears line her lashes.
“I was driving home to surprise my dad for his birthday,” she says, and I hold my breath, afraid if I make a rapid movement she’ll close up like a sea anemone. “It was snowy, but…but I had all-wheel drive. I thought I was fine.”
Her skin is pale, but she raises her chin and straightens her shoulders.
“Black ice had formed on the road,” she continues, the words choppy. “I hit a patch, careened off the road, and slammed into a tree. The force of the impact shattered the windshield inward and crushed the front of the car.”
She struggles to breathe, pulling in shallow, jagged breaths. I’m in awe of her, but she doesn’t need to give me this—not if it hurts her.
“It’s all right,” I coo. “You don’t have to—”
“I-I want to.” She lifts a trembling hand to palm my cheek. “You’re worth the fear.”
I cover her hand with mine, giving her as much time as she needs. There are few words to express what it means to me that she trusts me enough to share her trauma—to take a leap of faith and believe I’ll hold her confession with care.
She removes her hand to touch the scar cutting across her brow.
“When the car hit the tree and the windshield shattered, my head whipped forward from the impact. This is from a large shard of glass.” Her finger lingers on the bottom of the scar, the most ragged section, before swiping away a rogue tear.
“I was on a highway in the middle of nowhere, and the hospital I went to was understaffed, so a medical resident stitched the laceration closed. That’s why it’s so ugly.
” She pauses, then almost inaudibly, she adds, “I didn’t always look like this. ”
Charlie pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, staunch belief in her words, but she couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I don’t think that’s true.” I force her chin up. “I have never met anyone more beautiful than you, and I’ve never known you without the scars. They could throw a thousand people in a room, and I would look for you first, Charlie. That kind of beauty is powerful.”
She gulps but rises and straightens out her dress. Her hand hovers between us, palm faced up.
“Come back to the room with me?”
She says nothing more, but I understand the suggestion in her words, and I’m flying off the ground to take her hand. Charlie giggles loudly, but I steal the sound in a frenzied, overzealous kiss.
My heart thuds, rerouting blood to other parts of my body as her breasts press against my chest. She breaks away and drags me behind her, the picnic I planned forgotten as she picks up speed, nearly running to get back to our cabin.
Our fingers are intertwined like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and nerves eat at my stomach as she pushes me over the threshold and clicks the door shut.
I’m not two steps in before she’s on me again, launching herself into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist to steady herself. She claims my lips, and the desperation is palpable as we stumble.
She moves down my cheekbone, then jaw, before she works along the column of my neck. Each touch sends a spider web of tingles across my skin, and my brain is still trying to catch up with what’s happening.