Page 17 of Made to Be

His hazy eyes stared at his reflection a moment longer before they landed on me through the mirror.

“What is this?” he asked me.

I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about, so I strode over to settle next to him. His gaze tracked me the entire short distance until I was at his side.

“What’s what?”

He lifted his hand and tapped at the Y-shaped incision taking up his wide chest, cutting through several tattoos. It still had those thick but neat stitches holding it together. Almost all of his previous injuries looked mostly healed, but it seemed this was taking a bit longer to recover. After he got dressed, I would sit him down and cast a few healing spells over him. I knew the skin would begin to naturally heal itself after a while, just like it would for his limbs, but I would still give it a few days before removing the stitches. Just in case.

“It’s from your autopsy,” I told him simply.

He seemed to know what that meant and hummed in understanding.

There was no point in beating around the bush. He knew he had died and been brought back to life. He was honestly handling it really well, all things considered. But I wondered if the reality of what had happened to him would eventually hit him. I wondered how he would take it.

That time didn’t seem to be now as he turned from the mirror to face me, holding out his left arm.

“And this?” he asked, calm and curious.

“I attached it for you.” Then I gestured to the bottom half of his right leg below the knee. “That too. Don’t worry, their previous owner didn't need them anymore. How do they feel? They don’t cause you any discomfort, do they?”

The magic I had used while sewing the new appendages to him should have allowed the attachment to be practically seamless once they healed fully, just like any wound. But I didn’t know if it was normal for any pain to be expected throughout the process.

“Sorry the stitching isn’t exactly pretty,” I apologized, becoming slightly embarrassed. “I’m not really great at sewing but if you don’t like it, I can always call Alice and-”

A gentle finger pressed against my lips, successfully shutting me up from my nervous ramblings. My pulse skittered, cheeks flaming as I slowly lifted my eyes and met Cam’s. He didn’t remove his finger as he said in a low, rumbly voice,

“I love them. Thank you.”

Well shit, maybe I was going to be the one getting my socks charmed off.

I hadn’t realized how close Cam had gotten and quickly remembered that he was very entirely naked. I stepped back, putting some healthy distance between us.

I wouldnotjump his bones. I wouldnotfuck this up. It hadn’t even been a full day yet! Keep it in your pants, Vic!

Clearing my throat, I said, “Um, yeah. Sure, of course.” Then maybe a touch too aggressively, I grabbed the pink towel from the rack and practically shoved it in his hands.

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright.” I rubbed the back of my burning neck. I’d nearly forgot what I came here to ask him and said, “I just wanted to know if you, uh, like hot stuff.” His lips quirked so I clarified, “Spicy stuff. Food. Not me. Not that I think I’m hot but-”

“I do,” Cam interrupted.

That didn’t exactly answer my question, but I was far too flustered at this point to beg him to explain.

“Mhm,” I hummed distractedly. “Perfect. Great, so just, uh... come out when you’re done. To eat. Food.”

I then turned and, forgetting the bathroom door had drifted closed, slammed my face straight into the wood. The solidthudwas comedically loud as pain burst across my nose and forehead. I rubbed both and released an awkward squawk of laughter before full-on fleeing the room.

Well, wasn’t this just going swimmingly?

***

“You have a ghost.”

My spoon clinked against my bowl as I scooped up another heaping bite of chili. I was doing my best to pretend that the whole hilariously awkward encounter in the bathroom hadn’t occurred. I’d cast those healing spells on Cam in embarrassed silence after he’d come out refreshed and – to my complicated mix of relief and disappointment – fully dressed. After the stretch of silence, I was glad Cam spoke up first. I shoved the food gracelessly into my mouth with a muttered,

“Knew it.”

Once I swallowed, I added, “Suspected it for a while. Could never prove it, though. But when I came downstairs at three in the morning one night shortly after moving in to find the sixties’ sitcomBewitchedplaying, I just knew.”