“Had, it’s time,” he said again, though the voice sounded farther away from me now.
My eyes fluttered open and suddenly I was no longer looking at my hot, young man-boy.
Nope, I was looking straight into the eyes of… my dad.
“Hey, little girl, it’s time to get up,” he whispered to me in the darkened room. “If we want to get that workout in before I have to leave, we need to start in fifteen. You still want to go?”
Shaking the image of my nighttime rendezvous out of my head, I pulled myself up so I was resting on my elbows. “No, yeah, I’ll get up. Just give me a few minutes?”
I watched as my dad padded out of my room, leaving the door open as he left. There was just enough of a glow from the night-light in the hallway for me to see the workout clothes I’d laid out on my chair the night before. I crawled to the foot of my bed and retrieved them, looking back at the clock as I pulled on my sports bra, a pair of shorts, and my sneakers.
Six a.m.
Ugh. If my dad weren’t leaving for three weeks, there’s no way I’d willingly be getting up at this ungodly hour. But it was hard to score time with him as it was, since he was always working late or traveling for business, so I’d take the father-daughter bonding any way I could.
I couldn’t exactly be mad at him for not being around though. My dad runs a nonprofit organization called Empower, which helps battered and abused women get support and restart their lives. Because it’s nonprofit, it means that most of the year he travels from state to state to try to convince various Fortune 500 companies to donate to the cause. My dad’s also a witch, although the other employees at Empower aren’t exactly hip to this fact. But to put it simply, that’s why the company’s so successful. See, Dad shares my powers of persuasion—that’s where I get it from; some people have their parent’s nose or eyes, but my genes are of the magical variety—which comes in handy when you’re asking multibillion-dollar companies to spare a couple hundred grand for a good cause.
Let’s just say he’s very good at what he does.
But this also means that he’s gone more often than he’s home, which brings me back to the reason I was walking through the living room like a zombie at the butt crack of dawn that morning. Working out wasn’t usually a part of my a.m. routine, but when my dad asked, I said yes. Even if my body was screaming, “Go back to bed, you idiot!”
“What torture are you putting us through today?” I yawned as I dragged myself over to where my dad was stretching near the couch. Taking his cue, I grabbed onto my right foot and pulled it behind me until it was resting against my butt. I let out a little groan as I felt the muscles in my thigh stretch like a rubber band.
“I thought we’d start off doing two miles to warm up and then head back for some kickboxing and a cooldown. We’ll be done in just a little over an hour,” he said, looking down at his watch. It was black and plastic and had a stopwatch and heart-rate monitor embedded in it. I’d given it to him as a present when I was nine, and he never took it off. It was a really sweet gesture, but even I knew that it clashed with the suits he wore to meet with potential clients. Yet I think someone would’ve had to pry it off him if they wanted him to change it up. “Don’t worry, Had. We’ll be done in plenty of time for you to get to school.”
“No worries, Daddy,” I said, although part of me was wondering whether I’d be able to perform my usual morning routine and perfect my look before I headed off to class. I didn’t have time to worry about it now though, because Dad was already headed out the front door.
Outside, it was just cool enough to need a light jacket, and the grass and leaves were all dewy, leaving sprinkles of wetness on the backs of my legs as I sprinted off across the lawn. I took a deep breath. There was nothing like the smell of morning. Everything was fresh and clean. For some reason, it was always easier to breathe at this hour. You know, before the heaviness of the day started piling up on you.
I followed behind my dad as he led us out of the neighborhood and onto a trail through the woods at the end of the next block. There were several different paths to get lost on, but he chose the one that would lead us just inside the fold of the trees. Neither of us spoke as we jogged along, enjoying the company and quiet the blanketed woods provided.
Twenty minutes later, we turned onto our block and headed toward home. I surveyed the houses of our neighbors as we ran by, wondering if anyone was awake inside yet. As we passed a brown-and-white house off to our left, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. The front door opened soundlessly and a guy walked out and started down the driveway.
He was my age, I guessed, but walked with an ease that most teenagers our age didn’t have. His hair was jet-black, messy, and came to a point at the top of his head in a fading faux-hawk. As my gaze drifted to his face, I was startled by what I saw. His eyes were the color of the sky after a storm and his lips…
I became so distracted that my foot caught on an uneven part of the road and I stumbled slightly before resuming my original gait. The guy chuckled quietly before raising his hand and giving me a wave. The gesture was so simple, yet it caught me off guard. I was used to guys keeping their distance. My friends said it was because they were intimidated. The fact that this guy had the balls to act like we were old friends was new territory for me.
“You know him?” my dad asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I tore my eyes away from the cute guy and focused instead on the pavement where my feet were currently pounding. But even once I’d looked away, I could still picture him.
“Nope,” I answered.
“Must be Ms. Abbott’s nephew,” he said. “Mom mentioned he moved in a few weeks ago.”
“What’s he doing here?” I asked, curious to learn more about our mysterious neighbor.
“No clue,” he said. “You’re lucky I even remembered that. Sometimes when your mom talks about neighborhood gossip I can’t help but tune out. Don’t tell her, though.”
I laughed. We were always teasing Mom behind her back, but it was all in good fun. Only this time I saw the truth in his words. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Speaking of Mom,” he said as we lumbered up to our house. “She told me all about your conversation last night.”
I collapsed onto the lawn and breathed in deeply. My lungs felt like they were on fire and my legs had officially turned to Jell-O.
“Let’s be honest,” I said between gasps. “It wasn’t a conversation. It was a full-blown witch hunt.”
Dad joined me on the grass and began to stretch. “Poor choice of words, Had.”
“Well, if the broom fits,” I muttered.
Dad gave me a warning look. I refrained from continuing and instead kept my mouth shut. We’d been having such a great morning and I didn’t want to ruin it with something so stupid.
Taking my silence as a momentary peace offering, Dad got to his feet and helped me to mine. We headed inside and straight down to the gym in the basement. He tossed me my red boxing gloves and began to pull his own on. Once mine were secure around my wrists, I punched them together a few times like the professionals always did in the ring.
“Now remember, keep your arms up near your face and never stop moving,” he said, throwing a half-speed jab at me. I easily blocked the hit and then threw a few of my own, too fast for my dad to avoid. Speed had always been one of my biggest assets when it came to hand-to-hand combat. That and being able to intuit what my opponent’s next move would be. Not that I got into fistfights often, but after more than five years of karate, self-defense, and boxing, I’d managed to learn a thing or two.
My parents had said it was so I could defend myself against the Parrishables or any other coven-on-coven attack that might happen. I agreed to participate because I thought, as a female especially, I should know how to take care of myself. It was a practical skill to have, and it made me feel powerful. Like no one could touch me. And now they couldn’t.