Page 24 of Witchy Woman

“Hi Belle,” he coos at her. “Aren’t you beautiful?”

“Don’t tell me you’re a cat person.”

He meets my gaze. “I’m an Earth witch, Goldilocks. I’m an everything person.”

While he hasn’t outright said he’s an Earth witch before now, it’s the only thing that would make any sort of sense. The whole family-business-of-trees thing and connection to the earth is like a neon fucking sign.

I cross my arms and barely refrain from sticking my tongue out at him. It absolutely doesn’t warm my heart or make my insides tingle that Belle adores him so much.

They’re also very not cute together.

Whatever.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Ash asks, fully sitting on the cold ground now as Belle nuzzles into his neck.

Lucky bitch.

“I’m not worked up.” Even as I say it, I cringe. I sound like I have a stick so far up my own ass I could choke on it.

The eyebrow raise I get in reply proves it.

“Fine!” I throw my hands up. “There’s just weird shit in my family ever since my mom...whatever. And weird shit with my magic.”

He slides his thick fingers over Belle’s ears, her purr so loud I can hear her from where I sit. “I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the best at mom dynamics, seeing as it’s only ever been me and my dad. But I can help with magic shit.”

The words ‘it’s none of your fucking business’ are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t force them out. How nice would it be to have someone else to talk to about this whole witchy nonsense?

Talking to Hazel is a goddamn minefield, and Grandma is great, but I don’t trust her not to be plotting with my sister.

“I’m a Fire witch,” I say, unable to stop a little bit of pride from leaking out.

He nods with a knowing smile. “Had a feeling. What’s going on with it that’s got you weirded out?”

“Fire whispers to me.” Maybe this was the trick all along. Tell him that fire talks to me and convince him I’m insane.

I bet he’ll keep his distance now.

“Okay.” His eyebrows knit together and it makes me want to smooth the lines out with my thumb. “Elaborate for me.”

I huff a breath. “I don’t know. It’s just always been a thing. I don’t fucking understand it! It’s just that when I focus on the flames, I can hear whispers. They don’t ever mean anything to me, it’s all gibberish. Except for recently. Hazel wants to have a funeral for Mom—for, like, closure or whatever—and every single time she brings it up, the fire says no. And I’ve been keeping it to myself because Hazel’s a judgy bitch, and I let it slip finally last night.”

“That’s definitely weird. But I think you’re right to want to take some time to figure out what that means for you,” he says. Easily. As if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if he just understands where I’m coming from.

Just gets it.

What the fuck.

“Can you go back to being an unreasonable brute, please?” I ask, a small smile creeping across my face. “This whole understanding bit is getting weirder than the whispers.”

His laugh is loud, unrestrained joy that I want to roll around in. Soak in. Enjoy. “I promise not to be too helpful.”

“That’s not a hard promise to make for you.”

“I don’t know, Goldilocks, everyone else seems to find me helpful. You seem to be the only one who doesn’t like me.”

His words stop me short. Of course I like him.

The entire problem is that I like him.