Page 74 of Summertime Hexy
The Grove begins toglow.
And then I feel it.
The third offering waiting in my throat.
Love.
It hammers in my ribs, thick and aching.
And I know what I have to say.
I squeeze her hand. Step forward.
And speak the words I’ve never said to anyone in two centuries of half-living.
“Hazel Blackmoore.”
She gasps quietly.
“I love you.”
The moment I say it—mean it—the entire circle explodes with light.
Not blinding. Not violent.
Warm.
Golden.
Like sunrise wrapped in memory.
Like every part of the Grove knows we mean it.
The ritual hums louder now—reaching a fever pitch as the symbols rotate, lift from the ground, spinning midair in radiant arcs.
The trees groan. The earth trembles. The spell wants to be finished.
But it’s not done yet.
We’renotdone.
Not until the Grove decides.
CHAPTER 25
HAZEL
The moment Derek says it—I love you—the Groveshudders.
Not gently. Not sweetly.
Itwrithes.
Like the earth just inhaled our entire existence and now it’s not sure what to do with it.
Magic spins around us in a cyclone of color and sound. The sigils carved into the soil lift like glowing constellations, suspended mid-air. They orbit our circle in widening rings—some gold, some bleeding red, some so bright they sear my vision like lightning.
I feel the air pull tight, like we’re inside a heartbeat held too long.
