Page 51 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Cats are bossy

Magnolia

My eyes were heavy, a dull ache forming at my temples as the streetlights strobed past the car windows. I was so freaking tired—physically, mentally, emotionally, all of it.

“Are you hungry?” Taylor asked softly, his hand tightening around mine where it rested on the center console.

He hadn’t let go since he met me outside Aunt Evie’s room at the end of his shift.

He’d laced his fingers with mine, guiding me along as he said goodbye to his coworkers and walked me out of the emergency room.

He’d held them tighter as we crossed the parking lot, the gentle pressure a comfort against the turmoil in my mind.

But he never said a word. He didn’t try to make small talk or convince me that everything was going to be okay.

He didn’t pepper me with questions about how I was doing or what I’d been up to.

He was just there for me, like an old, sturdy oak withstanding gale-force winds.

And, Mother above, I was grateful for that.

Grateful for him.

“Sunshine?” Taylor’s voice pulled me from my thoughts as his thumb swept lightly over my knuckles.

I hummed in response.

“Are you hungry?” he asked again, a small chuckle in his voice.

“I could eat.”

In all actuality, the answer was a resounding no.

A migraine was coming—I could feel it creeping in at my temples—and that meant nausea, migraine’s unwanted sidekick, wasn’t far behind.

But I knew if I didn’t get something in my system, it would hit me harder and faster than it would on a semi-full stomach.

“Do you have a preference? Or do you just want me to find a drive-thru?”

“Anywhere that has hot, salty fries and Coke.”

“As you wish,” he murmured, still tracing soothing lines along my hand.

I smiled at his words, at the memories they invoked, and let my eyes drift closed.

He’d turned on my seat warmer, and sweet baby cheeses, did it feel good.

I melted into the leather, letting the heat soak into my tired body as the steady rumble of the engine became my sound machine, lulling me into the closest thing to peace I’d felt in over a week.

By the time I opened my eyes again, we were pulling into Taylor’s driveway, the crunch of gravel beneath his tires grounding me. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but even with a power nap, I was struggling to keep my eyes open.

Starbursts of light flared from his porch bulbs, cutting through the darkness. I knew they were practical, but at that particular moment, it felt like someone was driving an icepick straight into my skull. My stomach twisted violently in response.

Taylor said something, but his voice sounded distant, muffled, like he was talking underwater and somehow still too loud.

Not. Good.

I needed food. Needed the darkest corner possible so I could bury my head until this passed.

A loud noise cracked to my left, and I flinched, my jaw clenching as it reverberated in my skull.

Pressing my fingers firmly into my temples, I concentrated on my breathing.

Long inhales through the nose, slow and even exhales through the mouth.

Over and over until the throbbing dulled enough that I could peel my eyes open without wanting to hurl.

“Come on, baby. I’ve got you,” Taylor murmured, his arms wrapping around me as he pulled me from the car.

I clung to him like a koala as he walked us the ten measly feet to his front door.

He set me down on the porch swing, the jingle of his keys sounding more like a gong as he undid the latch.

Then, before I could even think about standing, he scooped me up again and carried me bridal style into the house.

A tiny flutter stirred in my chest. Carried over the threshold.

The thought sent a cascade of images through my mind—late-night porch swings, dancing in the kitchen, spending endless nights wrapped in his arms. Candlelit dinners, streaks of gray threading through our hair. Tiny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed—

Whoa.

I didn’t even know I wanted kids.

Did I want kids?

I cracked an eye open, peering up at Taylor as he maneuvered through the house. Blessed Mother, he was gorgeous. But more than that, he was strong, steady, and kind. The kind of man women dreamed about bringing home to meet their families.

And through all the chaos, this beautiful, wonderful man still chose me. Again and again.

The last eight days without him had sucked.

I hadn’t realized just how much I leaned on him until he wasn’t there to hold me.

Cleaning CharCutie had been a decent distraction during the day, but at night?

At night, I drowned my dumbass decision to ask for space in canned whip cream and cookie dough ice cream.

But when I got the news about Aunt Evie, he was the first person I wanted to call.

Did I need him in my life? No. I’d survived thirty years just fine without him. Hell, I’d even thanked the Mother and did a little dance when he finally left town all those years ago.

But now?

Now I wanted him in my life. I wanted to wake up every day curled in his arms, to watch sunrises and sunsets together while the dogs he wanted so badly ran through the yard. I wanted him to hold me through the bad moments and celebrate the good ones.

Love was selfish like that, always looking for what the other person could do for you. But it was also selfless when reciprocated.

And Mother above, I wanted those things for him too. I wanted to be the person he leaned on, to be his safe harbor in the storm of life. To share his burdens. He deserved someone who would give that to him and so much more.

And I wanted to be that person for him.

Tears pricked my eyes as I really, truly looked at him. Not just at his face or his body, but at the soul inside.

The man who had once been the bane of my existence had somehow wormed his way into my heart.

And made himself at home there.

I was falling. Hard.

No—scratch that.

I’d already fallen.

Three words I never imagined saying blared to life in my brain, big and bright and fluorescent. My breath caught.

I love you.

Taylor glanced down at me, a smirk tugging at one corner of his lips. “You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that, sunshine. You’re gonna give me a complex.”

I love you.

It hovered on the tip of my tongue as he gently set me on the edge of his bed. It stayed there as I collapsed onto the soft down comforter, watching through half-lidded eyes as he moved around the room.

I flinched when he turned on the bathroom light, squeezing my eyes shut as I rolled over.

“You okay, Mags?” he asked softly, the bed dipping as he sat behind me, warm palm sweeping along my back in a soothing caress.

“Yeah, just a headache. I’ll be better after I get some food in my system.”

“Alright, I’m going to go grab everything from the car. I put a t-shirt and the sweatpants you keep trying to steal on the edge of the bed if you want to change.”

“Thank you.”

I sat up, reaching for the clothes, but even that small movement made my head swim. Nope.

I was still sitting there, clutching his shirt like a security blanket, when he walked back in, food in hand.

“Okay, so do you want… Mags?” His voice was wary, his gaze searching mine. When a single tear rolled down my cheek, his eyes widened. “Shit. No, no, no—don’t cry.”

He practically dropped the food and was in front of me in a heartbeat, hands running up and down my arms.

“It’s more than just a headache, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” I squeaked, pinching my eyes closed and pressing my fingers into my temples.

“Alright. Arms up, sunshine.”

“What are you doing?”

“Helping. Scale of one to ten, how bad is it?” His fingers gripped the hem of my shirt, and I raised my arms.

“Are you really trying to play doctor right now?” I asked, aiming for humor and falling short when my voice cracked with the pain.

“Not playing, sunshine. Give me a number.”

“Seven.” Skeptical sapphire blues met mine as he discarded my shirt. “Seriously, it’s a seven. Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“Okay, what usually helps?” he asked as he sat back on his heels and started unlacing my tennis shoes.

“When I don’t have my meds?” He nodded and pushed to his feet. “Salty snacks, chocolate, Coke, and a dark room. Sometimes a shower, but I don’t know if I could handle that right now.”

“Do you think you can stand long enough for me to get your pants over your hips, or would laying down be better?”

“I can do it, Taylor.”

“I know, but you don’t have to. Let me help, Mags. When was the last time you let someone take care of you?”

I scrunched my nose.

“That’s what I thought.”

Taylor helped me out of my remaining clothes and into his, then helped me move up toward the pillows.

Once he had me tucked in like a toasty little burrito, he brought over the food.

As much as I wanted to eat, and knew that I needed to, the smell had bile rising in my throat, and that was a one-way ticket to the porcelain throne.

It must have been written all over my face because he placed it back on the dresser and asked, “Nauseated?”

“Very.”

“Is there anything else I can get you? Tylenol? Excedrin?”

I shook my head against the pillow and hiked the covers higher. “When they’re this bad all that helps are my meds and a cold cap. Sleep should help take the edge off, though.” A yawn escaped with the final words.

“I could go get them for you, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

Taylor sat down next to me and gently swept my hair behind my ear. “One of these days you’ll get it.”

“Get what?” I asked through a yawn so wide that my eyes watered.

“That you’re it for me, Magnolia.”

As he tucked me into bed, a whisper drifted through my mind once more.

I love you.

I wanted to say it. But my eyes were too heavy, my body already sinking into sleep.

“Get some rest, baby. I’ll be back soon.”

I love you.

Taylor