Page 28 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

Eighteen

Sage

B ack in my underground sanctuary, Callum and I transformed my workspace into mission control for unraveling whatever delightfully twisted conspiracy was plaguing our charming little town.

Case files spread across my desk like tarot cards predicting doom, while the glow from multiple monitors cast eerie shadows that made even the evidence photos look more ominous than usual.

The silence stretched between us, comfortable yet charged with the kind of tension that suggested important conversations lurking just beneath the surface, like predators waiting to pounce.

"You've built something truly remarkable here," Callum said, his eyes taking in my technological setup with genuine admiration that made my chest do something unnaturally warm. "This integration of cutting-edge tech with advanced magical systems, it's absolutely brilliant. "

I felt heat rise in my cheeks at the unexpected praise, though I tried to maintain my characteristic composure. "I had considerable time on my hands and a pressing need for projects that didn't involve human interaction."

"Sage." His voice shifted to something softer, more careful, like someone approaching a potentially dangerous animal. "About what I revealed earlier, about the Council forcing me to leave you?—"

"We don't need to dissect ancient history right now." I cut him off, but he reached across the desk, his fingers barely brushing mine with the lightness of butterfly wings.

"Actually, we do need to address this. Because every time we work together like this, every time we fall back into our old investigative rhythm, I can see you pulling away like you're preparing for inevitable disappointment.

And I understand that defensive reaction completely.

But I need you to know that leaving you wasn't just the worst decision of my life, it was the moment I stopped being the man I actually wanted to be. "

I stared down at our almost-touching hands, noting how his warmth seemed to counteract the perpetual chill of my underground lair. "You were attempting to protect me from consequences."

"I was attempting to control an impossible situation through cowardice," he corrected with brutal honesty.

"There's a significant difference. The Sage I fell in love with would have found a third option, some brilliant alternative that I was too terrified to envision.

I should have trusted you to find that solution with me instead of making unilateral decisions like some kind of tragic hero in a poorly written romance novel. "

For a moment, the case files and missing girls faded into background noise. It was just us, the weight of five years of separation between us, and the fragile possibility that maybe, just maybe, we could construct something better from the wreckage of what we'd lost.

"The missing girls need our complete focus," I said finally, though I made no effort to withdraw my hand from his gentle touch. "They deserve our best analytical thinking, not emotional distractions."

"They absolutely do," he agreed without hesitation.

"But Sage? When this investigation is concluded, when those girls are safe and our murderer is facing justice, I want to try building something new with you.

Not attempting to resurrect what we were, but creating something better from hard-earned wisdom. "

I met his eyes, seeing not the boy who'd abandoned me in my darkest hour, but the man who'd returned to face the consequences of his choices. "Ask me that question again when we've saved them all."

His smile carried the kind of hope that made even my cynical heart consider the possibility of second chances.

"Now then," I said, turning back to the evidence with renewed focus, "tell me about your delightfully dramatic council confrontation. I assume you rattled some guilty cages?"