Page 37 of Witchful Thinking

“Yeah. I do.”

Lucy had the passion for this project. He recalled Lucy’s class notes. He was charmed by it. They were harmless white lies, an embellishment of a life that was perfectly ordinary. The last sentence sent a chill through his veins. It came back to him in fragments. She’s decorating…dream home with her…soul mate and planning for a bright future.

He’d been shocked by the word “soul mate.” It was bad enough that he couldn’t forget the feeling of her lush body pressed up against his at the bakery. He’d fought the temptation to bury his face behind her ear and breathe in that special scent—fresh honeysuckle, tea leaves, and something spicy like pepper. Would she smell like that all over? He imagined running his nose over the dips and valleys of her body, to elicit squeals and sighs from her.

Gods, he needed a swim to clear his head.

“I’m going out,” Alex said, pointing to the ocean.

He paused, looking at Horatio. As they grew older Alex had embraced the ocean. Horatio had turned away from the water. They hadn’t swum together since high school. They’d been two young mermen, eagerly exploring the ocean bed, finding shipwreck debris and floating messages in bottles. Back then the Grove had been enough. Now he didn’t know what was enough for him. What would quell this restlessness that kept him unable to commit to anything for more than a season?

Horatio waved to him. “We’ll go out next time.”

Alex nodded. Next time. He liked that plan. He tossed off his shirt and stripped down to his swim trunks.

“Let’s make time to hit up the hardware store.”

“I also need a bed and dresser.” His back would thank him for getting off the floor and onto a real mattress.

“We’ll go to Furniture Depot,” Horatio said. “I got a hookup with a complete living and dining room set.”

“I’m good if you have to go. Leave my knapsack and towel under the boardwalk.” Horatio gave him a thumbs-up. Alex ambled down the stairs to the beach. Alex dug his toes in the cold sand, pushing stones and mussel shells out of the way. The ocean beckoned him forth with its spell like a drunk firefly buzzing toward blinking twinkle lights. His thoughts went to the water. He watched the waves bend and twist, suddenly filled with a sense of dread and destiny. Alex went to the ocean’s edge. He dipped his toes into the sea-foam. It rushed toward him, hissing as it ate up the space between him and the sand. He had left the Grove, but it had never left him. He was no different from the people in his family, descendants of a long line of headstrong merfolk who took and did whatever they wanted without question or consequences. It wasn’t uncommon to hear a story of a Dwyer merperson stealing away a bride on the day of her wedding or seducing an innocent person with a promise of pleasure.

Instead of causing chaos, Alex used this single-mindedness to propel him forward in his career and his life. He went after what he wanted and got what he wanted without question.

He’d wanted to start his social media platform—he did. He’d planned to sell it for ten times more than it was worth—it was done. He wanted to win every major photography award. His professional résumé was longer than a Trader Joe’s store receipt after a marathon shopping session.

For a time, he’d desired Lucy. He’d wanted everything she had to offer—attention, laughter, and smiles. She’d asked him to be her prom date, and he felt like a king of the ocean. The instant he got everything he wanted, the responsibility followed soon after. He had to prove he’d earned that award. He had to show that his company was worth the price tag. He had to prove that he deserved her. He wavered with Lucy. There was too much responsibility in loving someone the way she deserved to be loved—he didn’t have it back then.

He didn’t know if he had it now. There was an unspoken rule in the Dwyer family: Don’t keep anything that you don’t want to lose.

He didn’t want to lose Lucy, so he’d left. Her cousin, Ursula, was right to warn him away from Lucy. He didn’t want to be the one to break Lucy’s heart. It had been the right thing to do for him to turn down her graduation party invitation. She was tough. She’d be fine. However, staring at her face in the bakery, regret had filled his chest and made him feel like he was treading water. Once he made things right between them, they’d be able to move on from their teenage infatuation. She’d meet her soul mate, the one who could give her the life she desired and fully deserved. He’d probably see her again in another ten years.

The next time she’d probably have a ring on her finger and a young baby witch looking up to her like she was their universe. A sudden sadness hit him at that thought, so he pushed it away. He still had this summer to enjoy her company before her soul mate would come to claim a place in her life. He felt the faraway rain and distant thunder on his skin. Storms brewed and churned a world away on unseen seas and oceans. He breathed in deep and walked into the water. Broken seashells. Seaweed clumps. Tension washed away with each rolling wave that hit his body, until he effectively became boneless. With each wave that washed over him, her scent was dulled, and his senses returned. If he was going to get this house in shape, he had to get his head on straight.

He lowered himself until the coolness lapped at his collarbone. He went under the surface and swam out past the sandbar. He sent out a prayer for the souls who survived the Middle Passage and for those whose souls remained with the water. Their names may be forgotten, but their ancestors of the land and sea continued to honor their strength. His skin shimmered underneath the early-morning light. The moon and sun for a moment shared the sky, the blending of blue and orange. The blue was light, like dull sapphire stones in an old ring. The orange was burnt like apple cider in a mug. He paused, stunned by the poetry conjured in his soul. This town was doing strange things to him. Fish swam up to him and poked at the scales on his palms, his brethren welcoming him home.

You didn’t keep anything that you didn’t want to lose.

He’d let Nahla go. He’d let his apartment go. He’d let jobs go.

During his travels around the world, he didn’t speak about the Grove, but he dreamed of it all the time. In his dreams, he ate countless slices at Rapunzel’s Pizza. He raced Horatio up and down the boardwalk while trying not to trip and fall over the crooked planks. He especially dreamed of Lucy wading into the water, smiling up at him before he left for good. His gut ached. He could go where he wanted, see who he wanted, and feed his every craving without issue. He was a gentleman when it came to women, but he hadn’t been a saint. Yes, he was free, but was he satisfied? No. He was scared. He went under the water.

Once he removed the fear, he’d get back to the life he wanted.

***

The water didn’t let Lucy rest. Dreams of the ocean invading her bedroom and shaking the walls shook her awake just before dawn. School was officially out for summer, but she was still on teacher time and woke up as if she were still going in early to make copies. The phantom touch of the waves pulled her out of sleep. She got dressed in her comic-book-print leggings, fitted black sweatshirt, and running shoes. She planned for only a quick run through the neighborhood to clear her head but ended up running all the way to the ocean.

The boardwalk was deserted save for a few stragglers and early-bird joggers clustered together like seagulls hunting for snacks. The ocean breeze washed across her chest, reminding her of last night’s dreams. She wasn’t going into the ocean; she didn’t have a bathing suit, and no lifeguard was on duty. Maybe a walk would ease her mind. She descended the stairs until she hit the sand, where she toed off her shoes, balled up her socks, and buried her toes in the sand. Nice. The cool sand felt like a mini massage. Lucy took a few steps forward, until she could see the crash and surf of the wave. She heard behind her the hiss and burble of the public shower.

Lucy turned around, and her thoughts stammered to a stop.

Three words came to her mind. Oh, my ocean. Alex. Was. Here.

His eyes were pinched closed. He was rinsing off the sand from his skin using the shower. The showerhead doused his golden skin with rivulets. Beads of water collected on his hair and ran down his back and past his ass. Whoa. It sloshed down his broad chest and defined arms and legs, washing away grit and sand and making him clean. His board shorts were plastered to his thighs, showing off everything. He’d been gifted generously by the ocean in more ways than one. Craving clawed at her chest, and her body throbbed as she watched him glistening in the water and sunshine. How divine. She bit down a smile. Heat raced over her skin. She should be ashamed of herself, but she couldn’t look away. He stilled, and his eyes snapped open. Embarrassment filled her, but she didn’t break the stare. She couldn’t look away. His steady gaze bored into her with expectation. Water hung off his long eyelashes, and his eyes flashed with liquid fire.

A silent wish whispered from her heart. Let me be the water on his skin.