Chapter Sixteen
“I swear, men are the worst patients,” I groused, pushing Andre back down onto the bed.
Andre sank back down, and I threw a blanket over his shoulders despite his protests.
The bruises all over his body had faded to a dull yellow, but I still winced every time I caught sight of them.
On the end table next to him, a steaming mug glowed faintly.
Maverick had been pleased enough by my exchange with Finn to volunteer his potion-making skills.
The herbal concoction was supposed to dull pain and promote the body’s natural healing.
I’d have brewed it myself, but I still didn’t trust my potion making skills.
“Poppy,” Andre drawled, reaching for the cup. “You do realize I can fend for myself? I’ve survived worse than a knock on the head.”
I swatted his hand lightly and held the mug steady. “Not when you’re dizzy, you don’t. Drink.”
He gave me a lopsided grin, the kind that was meant to be roguish but was undercut by the fact that he was neck deep in the covers. “You’re fussing over me like I’m as fragile as a Cadbury Egg. I won’t melt if I drink my own tea, dearest.”
“You are fragile right now,” I countered, tucking the blanket tighter around him. The steam tickled my cheek, and I caught scent of mint and honey. “And besides—” I pressed the mug into his hands, my voice softening, “You don’t have to fend for yourself. Not when I’m here.”
For a moment, his teasing smile faltered, replaced by something softer. He took a slow sip of the glowing brew, eyes never leaving mine. It was almost too intimate. I had to look away before I did something embarrassing. Like cry. I’d done too much crying already.
We’d commandeered one of the coven’s guest rooms for the better part of a week while the others tried to track down our mystery monster.
Dark beams stretched across the ceiling, a contrast to the cream plaster walls and the flicker of firelight from the small hearth tucked into one corner.
The four-poster bed dominated the room, its carved oak frame draped with heavy curtains that pooled at the floor.
Andre sat propped against a mound of pillows, reading one book from a string he’d pilfered from Olga’s library.
For once, Andre didn’t argue. He only sipped, his eyes lingering on the side of my face in the lamplight.
“And while that is a sweet sentiment, it’s not the whole truth, is it? Fussing over me, I understand. This anxious vigil you keep at my bedside is becoming worrisome.”
I flinched. So I hadn’t been as subtle as I’d hoped.
“I can’t help it,” I said, horrified by the tremor I could hear in my voice.
“And why is that?”
“Because… well, I feel responsible for what… happened to you.”
“Poppy—”
“If I hadn’t interfered, if I hadn’t—” I swallowed hard, the words sticking painfully in my throat. “You wouldn’t have been hit by that bat.”
Andre reached out, his fingers brushing mine, gentle but firm. “Hey, look at me,” he said. Slowly, reluctantly, I did. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Everyone kept saying that. It was technically true. But it didn’t feel true. And if something didn’t feel honest, it had to be a lie, right? Just one that I was telling myself?
“You don’t get it! I—”
He cut me off with a soft laugh, though it was strained.
“Poppy, it wasn’t your fault. I see you twisting yourself into agonized knots all day, every day, when what happened wasn’t something you could have predicted or controlled.
You’re not responsible for accidents, silly.
All that matters is that you’re here, taking care of me now, and that’s more than enough.
” He paused. “Although you could be better at bringing snacks.”
We both laughed at that but then my frown returned.
“Okay, out with it,” Andre said, giving me that look that told me not to argue. “I can see I haven’t convinced you.”
“Well… no, you haven’t.”
“What is going through that worried mind of yours, love?”
“I just—I can’t get beyond the fact that it was my potion that provoked the creature,” I said quietly.
“My powers that made it lash out the way that it did. I might as well have been the one who clobbered you. And when I think like that, I reach the conclusion that I’m the one who gave you a concussion. ”
“Something absurd and ridiculous, but do go on.”
“You could have been hurt badly. Killed! And that’s my fault!”
Andre shifted, wincing slightly as he reached over to pull me into his side. I didn’t fight him, though I wanted to. I felt guilty as I settled into his lap, but I wasn’t going to hurt him more by arguing.
“Poppy,” he said firmly. “Stop.”
“But I did this!”
“How in the world do you think you did this, you ridiculous woman?”
“It was my alchemy that did it! I can’t control this power, Andre! And… and I hurt you. I could hurt Finn!” Anger started to spiral through me, and I’d never wished to divorce myself of my Alchemy as much as I did then. “I want to just turn it off. This isn’t who I am. Not what I want to be!”
“But you are an alchemist. You can’t change that. What do you plan to do? Swear off magic?”
“Maybe.”
I wasn’t sure how I’d do it, though. Magic was a part of me, as fundamental a force as the blood in my veins or the beating of my heart. I could refuse to practice it, but I couldn’t get rid of it.
“But I don’t even know where to start. I don’t know how to live with something this big—this dangerous—without breaking everything I touch.”
Andre studied me for a moment, then said gently, “You don’t have to figure it out alone. Talk to your friends, Poppy. Wanda. Fifi. Both of them know what it’s like.”
Poppy blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Wanda spent years with her magic twisted by vampire blood. That had to be scary for her, right? The magic she’d depended on her entire life didn’t play by the same rules any longer. She had her share of mishaps, from the stories I hear. But guess what?”
“What?”
“She got through it. She found a way to make it work for herself. I’d say she’s now thriving.”
I wasn’t sure if Wanda was thriving, but I figured he had a point. “Okay, point taken.”
“And Fifi?”
“What about Fifi?”
“Didn’t she come to you for a potion to help her strip her demon half because she couldn’t find love? She was afraid of killing people with her powers? It sounds like she knows what it’s like when you fear something inside yourself. Something you can’t always control.”
My throat felt tight. I couldn’t look at him. He was right. I knew he was right. But...
Andre continued as if he hadn’t witnessed me swallowing hard.
“Now she’s married to a sasquatch who adores her for every inch of herself, demon side included.
They get it. They’ll understand what you’re going through, my love.
More than anyone else, maybe. So stop punishing yourself for being afraid, and let the people who love you walk you through it. ”
“It’s different,” I said weakly.
“How? Because it’s you? That’s silly, Poppy. Every spell, every potion, every charm—it’s all a gamble. You know that as well as I do. And that applies to all magic, not just your new, incredible brand of it.”
“Why do you always have to be so right about everything?”
He chuckled. “Because I know you. You don’t back down. You’ve always been the bravest person in the room. And this?” He gestured loosely toward me. “This isn’t about whether you’ll master this alchemy. It’s about when.”
My breath caught. I finally dared to meet his eyes.
They were wide, earnest, and so gentle that I could feel his gaze like a tangible weight on my skin.
I wanted to kiss him. But then I was afraid to kiss him, in case it hurt him.
The words sank deeper than I expected, past the guilt and fear, into the place where long-buried hope lay. I felt it stir, just a little.
Maybe I could do this.
I blinked away a tear. “You really think so?”
Andre gave me a crooked smile, his hand brushing against mine. “I don’t just think it. I know it.”
I was quiet for a long time after Andre finished speaking. The steady weight of his words, the warmth of his hands brushing mine, seemed to fill the silence with something unspoken. He believed in me. He always had.
And yet, a familiar knot coiled in my chest—the doubt I couldn’t ever quite shake.
I’d told myself it was just habit, scars from the past. A few good boyfriends didn’t erase a lifetime of disappointment.
Being a single mom had meant putting Finn first, always, and guarding my heart like a locked vault.
But Andre wasn’t just another man. He was my soulmate. I felt it in my bones, and yet I didn’t always trust myself to believe it.
“Hey,” I asked softly, surprising even myself. “Can I ask you something?”
Andre turned his head, curious. “Of course.”
“I… I want you to move in with me… with us… Finn and me.” I blurted the words out before I could second-guess myself.
Then, in the quiet that ensued, I had to swallow around the pulse in my throat.
“I know it’s a lot to ask. And I know my track record is…
well, not great. I keep waiting for things to fall apart.
But I don’t want to wait anymore. Not with you. Not when I know what we are.”
For a moment, I couldn’t look at him. I was bracing for hesitation, for the shadow of rejection I’d come to expect.
Instead, Andre reached over and gently untangled my hands, lacing his fingers with mine. “Poppy,” he said, and there was such certainty in his voice that it made my heart ache, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”
“You have?”
He nodded.
“But you never mentioned it!” I started.
“Well, it wouldn’t be proper for me to invite myself to move in, would it?”
“I mean—”
“The answer is yes, I’d love to move in with you both. As long as Finn is okay with it.”
“I’m sure he will be but, of course, I will ask.”
He smiled. “Let’s get his approval and go from there. But, for the record? I’d live in a broom closet if it meant being closer to you.”
I laughed and batted at the rogue tears streaking down my cheeks. “You mean that?”
Andre squeezed my hand, his smile soft and sure. “I mean it. You and Finn—you’re home to me. Always.”
The knot inside me loosened at last. For the first time in years, I believed exactly what he was telling me. I believed him. I believe in him. And in us.
I leaned closer, resting my forehead against his. The knot in my chest had been replaced by something warmer, steadier—something that felt terrifying in its own way.
Andre brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, his thumb lingering at the corner of my jaw.
“You don’t have to doubt me,” he murmured.
“I know.”
Then I kissed him. It wasn’t tentative this time, not the cautious affection I sometimes allowed myself.
It was fierce, urgent, as though every unsaid word had been waiting for this moment to pour out of my mouth.
He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and I melted into him, relishing the taste of his breath, the warmth of his mouth, the strength of his body against mine.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless, Andre let out a low chuckle that was half-groan. He pressed his forehead to mine again. “You know… I’m okay with a little pain if it means I get to hold you like this.”
I kissed him again, slower this time, and his hand slipped to the small of my back, pulling me closer. I yipped slightly when he touched my bandages.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “Imani saw to that.” He looked at me, and I shook my head. “No fussing over me,” I finished in my best British accent that wasn’t very good.
He laughed.
Then he dragged me closer, clutching me harder, while being careful to avoid my back.
Pressed this close, I could feel magic in his hands, the love in his heart.
And it was mine. All of it. All of him. I felt it like truth carved into the marrow of my being.
We were soulmates, hopelessly tangled in the red string of fate.
I knew what he wanted. Could feel it like the truth that it was.
Pain. Pleasure. The urge to be held tight. To be loved.
But it was more than that. And the expression was there in his eyes. He wanted me physically.
“I want you too,” I said softly. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“You can’t hurt me, Poppy.”
I leaned into him, pressing him gently down into the pillows. His breath caught when my legs settled around his waist.
“Fine,” I admitted. “But I maintain my earlier statement.”
“Which one?”
“You don’t have to fend for yourself. Not when I’m here.”
“Oh, that one.”
I leaned in to kiss him. Slow. Languorous. Possessive. He groaned into my mouth.
“Bloody hell, Poppy. I love you.”
I leaned in to nip his ear. “Prove it.”