Page 64 of Spell Ya Later

The storm turns to despair as Mom’s eyes well up with tears.

Good. My anger wants her to hurt just as much as she’s hurt me over the years. Just as much as I did when he died.

“Draven killed your father and now he’s returned to kill the rest of us.”

With that, she turns and leaves. The second family member to do the same to me in just a few hours.

Shit.

“That could’ve gone better,” I whisper, trying to inject some sort of levity into all this.

Grandma shakes her head. “Not now, Hazel.”

Now I really do have nothing, and it’s all my fault.

Chapter 23

Peppermint Tea

Everyone is acting as if I’m the villain. As if I’m not the only one trying to fix our family. We’ve been living in this toxic bubble of lies for years and I’m the only one trying to change that. Why is that so awful? Why is it so terrible that I want arealrelationship with my family?

I guess I’ll never understand them, just like they’ll never understand me.

I just want Noah. I’m sick of being stuck in this house. In this bed. With these people.

Noah gets me. Noah understands.

Okay, Noah has no idea that this is even happening, but hewouldunderstand. He doesn’t judge me or put pressure on me to be anything but me.

I whip my phone out before I consciously register what I’m doing and click on Noah’s name. The phone is ringing, and wow I don’t remember when I last spoke to someone on the phone.

“Hazel?” Noah’s gentle rumble fills my entire body with a safety I’ve never felt with anyone.

“Hey,” I breathe. I finally really breathe for the first time since I got slammed against that tree.

A gentle rustling filters through the phone, like pages of a book or manuscript. “How are you feeling?”

I have a giant gaping wound on my belly that I’m too scared to look at.

“Recovering. I miss you. How are you?” At least I’m not outright lying, Iamrecovering.

In finding myself, I’m also finding a lot of lies.

Shit. I need to figure out how to drop this witchy bomb.

“I miss you, too. I’ve been worried about you.” His voice is soft, the kind of pure worry that doesn’t carry guilt with it.

Despite the day—the week—I’ve had, he makes me smile. I imagine the world could be burning around us and I’d still be smiling if Noah were around. “I’ll be back to normal eventually. I wish I could see you, but I don’t want to get you sick.”

I don’t want you to see my battered pulp of a body.

He scoffs. “You know I don’t give a fuck about that. If you want me, baby, I’ll jump in the car right now.”

This man and his words. If my run-in with Botis didn’t kill me, Noah’s sweetness just might.

“I’m at my Grandma’s, she’s been taking care of me...”

“If you want me, I will get in the car. I don’t care where the destination is, so long as you’re there.”