Page 41 of Summertime Hexy
Theyclick.
The ley line settles with a thrum that feels like a heartbeat. Steady. Alive.
We don’t move.
His hand is still in mine.
His chest is too close.
And when I look up, I see it again.
That thing he hides behind the scowls.
Thewant.
I swallow. “Derek…”
“Don’t,” he says.
But his hand tightens on mine.
I step closer anyway.
“You can’t keep running,” I whisper.
“I know.”
His voice is hoarse.
Our foreheads almost touch.
Almost.
Suddenly, a bird shrieks above us and we break apart like teenagers caught necking behind the potion shed.
I pretend to dust myself off.
He clears his throat.
“So,” I say, trying to sound casual. “One anchor down. Two to go.”
He nods, still looking a little wrecked.
“Still not a date,” I mutter.
But my heart doesn’t believe me.
And I don’t think his does either.
The sun’s going down by the time we finish the last anchor.
It bathes the forest in that honey-colored light—the kind that makes everything feel too still, like even the leaves are holding their breath. We’re standing at the final grove, shoulders brushing as we pack up the charm tools and anchor stabilizers in silence.
Not awkward silence.
Just…full.
My fingers keep brushing his. He doesn’t pull away.
