Page 22 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
“Yes.” She comes a step closer and holds out her left hand above the bucket of green jade without touching any of the stones. “I don’t touch them at first. I just let my hand hover and feel for any pull. If one tugs at my senses, then that’s the one.”
“What if you don’t feel a tug?” I ask. This means a lot to me and I don’t want to waste time down the wrong path.
“Then just pick one,” Eliza says. “It doesn’t have to be some big gotcha or ritual every time. You probably know this already, but witchcraft is all about the individual, it’s you figuring out what works for you.”
I nod. I’ve been trying to tell myself that for months, but I always feel like I’m doing it wrong. Am I using the right stone? Does the website I’m looking at have a clue what energies they actually hold? Should I mix those herbs or not? Did I say my intent right? The questions run ablaze half the time, and usually it’s just me and the internet trying to figure it out.
“Okay,” I say, when I should thank her. Just that one piece of advice from an actual witch did more in my heart to soothe my questioning than a hundred internet searches or any of the books I’ve read.
I turn to the pile of citrine and hold my left hand over it, less than an inch from their polished surfaces. Did I just feel something? I squint and try to focus, but Hayden’s face, complete with the tube running under his nose and feeding tube in his arm, eclipses my focus. Shit! My concentration breaks, but I keep my hand in place. I’m literally standing here trying to get a hope and prosperity stone to call out to me in front of his aunt while I keep up the lie that I’m his person. Now the only feeling rushing through my hand and entire body is guilt. Guilt for staying in the hospital room. Guilt for not correcting them. Guilt for sitting at their table for Thanksgiving. Pure guilt.
“Give it some time if you need to,” she says, but at the sound of her voice another set of gray eyes flash in my mind, and I snatch up the stone closest to my fingers and back up.
“This one!” I gasp.
“Oh.” Eliza forms a tiny O-shape with her lips and nods. “Very good.”
I focus and slow my breathing.Don’t let her see.To cover it, I put my hand over the selenite and wait a full point five seconds before snatching a random one off the top.
“Looks like you have this down,” Eliza says.
You know what? I can get herbs later.
“I gotta go,” I tell her.
“You don’t need the basil too?” she asks.
Ugh. Yes, but I’d rather leave. Gods, I do have to pay for this though.
“Oh, yes, that too,” I say, trying my hardest to hide my nerves. I take off toward the herbs and grab a satchel labeled BASIL and show it to her.
“That it?” she asks.
Gods, I hope so.
8
Why am I here?
I blow an exaggerated breath through pooched lips and walk inside. Machines beep and whir, with tubes draping between them and the bed. And there he is. My dream. My cinnamon make-believe lover, out cold on a hospital bed for only the gods know how long. And here I am, staring at him, wishing some of that old exciting flare would pop through my veins. Instead, dread stalks their passages, and I’m stuck trying to figure out what to say to a sleeping husk. Someone really does need to fix his hair though.
“Uh, Hayden,” I start, then stop and swallow.He can’t hear you, Kenzie. Why the hell are you doing this? What is it going to solve?I’m hopeless. Fine, whatever. I step closer and run a single finger through his hair to get it out of his face. I yank back when my finger touches his forehead. Did he move? No. It’s just me. Nothing. Not a flinch.
A minute passes and I do little more than stand. My mind’s been going crazy ever since leaving The Good Hex. Did I really cause all of this? Is my spell to blame? And if it is, what did I do wrong? This isn’t what I wanted. I never hoped he’d get hurt just so I could be his. I’d even rather he never know me than for him to get hurt because of me.
My eyes flit from his closed lids to the bag of fluid suspended next to him. Back and forth like suddenly he’ll be awake and tell me how to get out of this mess. Gods, no! That would be horrible. Please, Odin, don’t let that happen! He’d be horrified to hear what’s going on out here in the real world. Like let him wake up, but I don’t want to be here when it happens.
“Kenzie?” A woman’s voice comes from behind.
I stiffen and swing around on my toes.
“Doctor…” I try, but her name is not coming to me. Kaine? No. Carroll maybe? Neither feels right.
“Kline.” She smiles.
“Right. Dr. Kline. Sorry.” I nod apologetically.
“Did you come to talk with him?” She goes on without acknowledging it.
