Chapter 39 Coco
Coco
I’m on cloud ten, having skipped straight over nine and shot beyond the stars.
Never in my life have I felt so blissfully alive and happy. I’ve never been cocooned in a feeling like this. Oh, I’ve had boyfriends before, but there was always a shadow covering those relationships—my fears, my insecurities.
But with Stone, there’s none of that. It’s absolute freedom.
I never want this feeling to end.
We wake up in the middle of the night and find ourselves tangled in the sheets again. Once more in the shower after we wake up.
Then Stone asks if I’d like to go with him to pick up Natalie and drive her back to school, but I tell him no.
There’s a potion I need to make.
That part I don’t tell him, obviously. But my knees wobble as I watch him leave the house to take his sister home.
I have one night of perfect memories and an emerald ring that fits snuggly on my finger. He gave me his trust, and I’m going to ruin him with it.
There’s nothing to do except move forward.
Soon as he’s gone, I text Cristina and tell her I got the bloom. It’s sitting in the kitchen window, where I left it last night after I pulled myself out of Stone’s grasp long enough to drop it in a vase of water.
Cristina arrives about an hour later with Hercules, who takes one look at me, walks right on past, and heads for his bed.
“What’s wrong with him?” Cristina says. “He didn’t even greet you.”
“He’s mad at me, I think, for everything that’s happened.”
“He’ll forgive you soon enough.” Her gaze lands on the flower. “Is that it? Is that the bloom?”
“That’s it.”
“It glows even during the day?”
“Pretty cool, huh?”
She touches one of the petals gently. “Yeah, almost as cool as waking up to a field of pink flowers in the pasture. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Me? Whatever are you talking about?”
“Don’t lie. I saw you out there last night with Stone,” she says in a playful voice. “Coco, what are you going to do? I don’t mean about him. I know what we’re doing. But what about your magic?”
“I guess I’ll keep it a secret as long as I can.”
A divot of worry creases the space above her nose. “I don’t think you can keep this kind of secret—not forever. You’re powerful. It’s almost scary.”
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of dropping a memory-swiping potion on you.”
“Thank goodness.” She winks. “Ready to start?”
No. “Of course. Let’s get this done.”
I haven’t opened the book since we found the counter spell, and I fear opening it now. The last thing I need is more foreboding wind mixed with a lightning strike to suggest this spell is even more doomed than the first.
But I recall Dot’s warning about the land. She never fixed her spell, but I will fix the one on Stone.
I place the book on the table. It hums as if it’s anticipating what’s about to happen and is excited for it.
I peel back the cover and squint, waiting for a gale to sweep through the cottage.
But what I get is . . . crickets.
This is good. Or terribly bad. Fingers crossed it suggests we’re on the right track.
Even Cristina notices. “What? No flickering lights?”
“I guess not.”
“Which means we’ll probably call Lucifer himself with this spell.”
“Stop it.”
We locate the counter potion and begin creating it.
The bloom’s petals have to be ground, so we dry them in the oven and then I pulverize them in an old coffee grinder.
We boil the rest of the flower until it becomes a thick syrup, add the petals to it, along with some nutmeg and cotton.
The last thing we need is something of Stone’s, and I find his hairbrush, pulling out a hair.
This feels like a betrayal. It shouldn’t. This should feel right, like I’m doing the best possible thing for him.
If that’s the case, then why does my stomach churn? Why does it bubble and boil like the pot of ingredients?
I shove the worry aside and drop the hair in the pot. The ingredients hiss, and steam curls from the very center.
“Well, at least that part was similar to before,” Cristina mutters.
I stir for ten minutes, until the potion resembles a light-purple solution. It’s pretty, this one, and it looks a thousand times more appetizing than the green goop we made the first time.
“It needs to cool,” Cristina says. “Let’s sit outside on the front porch for a while.”
After taking the pot off the burner and placing it over a cloth on the kitchen table, I pour Cristina and I each glasses of sweet tea and head to the porch to enjoy the sunshine.
“What are you going to put this potion in?” she asks when we’re rocking back and forth like old ladies on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
“Maybe a cheeseburger? No. Wait. I’ll grab some barbecue from Unicorn Tails and put it in that. He likes that place. It’s where we shared our first meal, and it’s how I’d like to have our last one together.”
Cristina scoots closer to me on the porch swing and drops her head on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I know,” I reply, my voice sounding weak even to me.
It’s been a great run, but it must end, and however Stone feels when it’s over will be how he feels. If he hates me, I deserve it. If he doesn’t—then it’s a miracle.
Cristina and I swing for a bit, and then she leaves. I walk down to Unicorn Tails and get the food, making sure to order extra corn bread because Stone adores it. Can’t say I blame him—add a little honey and butter to moisten it up or crumble it into a bowl of beans, and you’ve got magic!
I don’t order much for myself, just a sandwich because my appetite’s gone kaput.
No surprise there.
The sack feels as heavy as a boulder as I return to the cottage. I unlock the front door and sigh. Ready or not, here I come.
The door swings open and I stop in my tracks. The pot full of potion isn’t on the table where I left it. My gaze swishes around until it lands on the floor.
The pot is tipped onto its side, and Hercules hunches in front of it. The sound of slopping comes from him.
Oh my God. The lamb is eating the potion.
“No, no, no, no, no!”
I drop the bag of food and rush to the pot. I yank it away from Hercules, hoping that some is left, but when I look in, there’s nothing.
Not even one drop. I collapse to my knees. “No!”
Hercules looks up at me. Blinks. Runs a tongue over his lips.
My stomach falls. All that waiting. All that work. All that worry. All for nothing.
This was my moment to make everything right. To fix what I’d broken. To fix Stone. And now it’s gone.
How could I have been so stupid as to leave the potion where Hercules could reach it? Well, he couldn’t reach it, could he? The lambicorn had to jump on a chair, then on the table, then knock the potion down and lick up every last bit.
I stare at him. “You have been so mad at me because of Stone, and when I want to fix him, you ruined it. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Baaaaaaaa.”
“Not helpful.”
What do I do now? Wait another month? Tell Stone the truth? Even if I tell him, will he believe me? Dammit! This potion was going to make it easier because he would remember everything. I wouldn’t have to tell him. He’d remember how much he hates me and he’d hate me again.
It would destroy me, but I could live with it, because I’ve experienced him loving me and that would be enough. It would have to be.
It’s a toss-up on whether to scream or collapse. I should call Cristina, but how do I explain this? Sorry, the magical lamb ate the one thing that could’ve saved everything?
I drop my face in my hands.
No, I can’t call her. There’s nothing she can do that’ll help.
I exhale a gusty sigh. There’s no use crying over spilled milk. I might as well clean up the mess, even though Hercules has done most of the work for me, then get ready to swallow my bitter pill.
I grab the pot and take it into the kitchen. On my way there, I swipe the barbecue from the floor in case Hercules is still hungry.
Hungry . . .
I whip around. “Hercules, are you feeling okay?”
He cocks his head like a dog trying to understand what I’m saying.
“Come here, little guy.”
For the first time in days, the lambicorn pads over. I give him a good scratch behind the ears. “If you throw up, it’s not my fault.”
“Baaaaaaa.”
Hopefully, the potion won’t make him sick or change him. Like, you know, make him remember a past he’s forgotten or something like that.
The irony of this moment is not lost on me, and it makes me wonder if maybe it wasn’t up to me to give Stone back his memory. Maybe it’s something he has to do himself.
That still doesn’t make me feel better.
I’ve just washed and dried the pot when the door opens.
I turn as Stone sweeps in, a huge grin on his face. He pulls me into a hug and kisses my temple. “It smells good in here. Did you get barbecue?”
My stomach clenches. “I did.”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Is something wrong?”
Everything. But I shake my head, fighting back tears that threaten to prick my eyes. “No. It’s fine. Hercules just got into some food he wasn’t supposed to, and I’m worried it might make him sick.”
“Oh.” Stone turns to the lambicorn. “He looks okay. Has he thrown up?”
“No.”
“Then he’ll be fine. We’ll watch him. So.” Stone claps his hands. “I’m starving. Thank you for getting food.”
“You’re welcome.” I wish he’d stop thinking I’m a great person. “How was dropping Natalie off?”
He kisses my forehead. “Fantastic. She told me this weekend redeemed me and I’m not a failure as a brother. Whatever that means.”
I laugh. “I think she’s joking.”
“I’m not so sure.” He kisses me again and I melt. This is the perfect chance to tell him the truth. But when we part, his voice is low and his pupils are inky, full of lust. Probably just like mine. “There’s something I want to do before we eat.”
“What’s that?”
He kisses me again. “You.”
Before I can protest, he picks me up and, with me squealing, takes me into the bedroom and shuts the door.