The Witches on BellaRow Street

19. How Much Do You Know?

Life is all about the feels.
*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ:*

Zion trails his hands along the center of my back, reassuring me that it's okay to trust him and to speak up about our last phone call. Admittedly, I haven't given it much thought after my premonition, and all the craziness that happened after. But knowing Zion, those comforting hands will soon turn into his infamous drum tapping fingers. To put it simply, my man wanted answers.

"I..."

Am I ready to explain? No. Do I need to say something quickly, before Zion hops back in his SUV and drives away? Maybe. Are my sisters secretly listening to us while the door remains creaked open? Possibly. Am I stalling? Definitely.

My first reaction is to hug Zion even tighter and ignore his question. Maybe if I nudge my head under his collarbone, and brush my lips across his neck, then perhaps he'll forget about asking again.

The truth is I don't know how he'll respond to my sisters and me covering up a crime scene, someone stalking us, or me being a Witch. It's not something people say to each other on the regular. I mean, everyone's open-minded until there's a dead body on the ground.

However, the more I hesitate, the more he knows I'm hiding something from him.

To counteract my inner thoughts and his need to know, I graze my fingertips along the nape of his neck and moan slowly. You know, Chess moves.

Zion snickers and squeezes my waist, then moves his lips closer to my ear, sending chills down my arm and whispers, "Yanni, I'm not playing with you. Tell me."

Damn, it didn't work.

I feel my heart beating a proverbial mile a minute. I'm nervous and eerily uncomfortable knowing the front door is still wide open enough for my sisters to see and hear everything. I tilt my head back, look up at Zion's curious brown eyes, then peek over my shoulder to see what they're doing in the house.

Junie's engrossed with news, Faylayee's still looking for our painfully obvious missing cat, and Aunt BeeBee is gawking at the incriminating photos. My sisters are pretending to be busy, and it's not working. I can see them overcompensating too, even though, we know, that I know, that they know. But does Zion know?

I glance back at him, reading his impatience and also, something else stirring within his eyes. Is it a look of concern? Yearning? I brush it off, ignoring how it makes my stomach flutter. Instead, I give him a temporary response to satisfy his growing hunger.

"We'll talk later. Promise," I whisper back, knowing my words are a little sketchy at best. Zion gives me that 'you better tell me soon' look. And I know the only way I can end this tension is if I change the subject. Now, what can I say? Oh, I know. "Come say hello to my sisters."

He lets out a deep sigh, pulls back, stares at me, then glimpses inside my home. Once Zion realizes that he's putting me in a compromising situation with my sisters near, he eases up. To follow up, I match his frustration with my southern charm, warm smile, and a comforting hand grabs as I lead him through my front door.

Only people we invite in can walk through the doorway--Witches Law. That means whoever broke into our house, according to Gloria, the neighbor, must've already been a guest. I shiver at the thought.

As we inch closer to the Family Room, I notice Junie observing how my fingers are intertwined with his. I don't usually make grandeur displays of affection in front of my sisters, but it feels natural holding Zion's hand. Besides, my sisters know what's up. It's no secret here.