Page 26 of Witchy Woman

Chapter 11

Just Like Your Mama

The house creaks and groans in welcome as I return home. My bones ache, my heart hurts, and I just want to curl up in bed with Belle for the next seventy-five years.

Give or take a few.

Belle trails behind me up the stairs. I’d carry her myself, but honestly she’s almost half the size of Hazel and I don’t want her getting used to it.

We enter my room and a weight instantly lifts off my shoulders. My room is my only safe place in the world. It’s pink—which started as an ironic joke, but everyone just assumed I was being serious that pink was my favorite color. The walls, the carpet, the sheets, my comforter. All pink. The only hints at my actual personality are in the small details.

The one framed photo of me and Hazel when we were children. Dad was a photographer, and he took the picture. I like to pretend I can remember him taking it when I look at it.

My janky, secondhand sewing machine. I know it’s not allowed to be my dream anymore, I couldn’t possibly go to Paris and design accessories. But I still stay up late sewing, even if it’s just for me.

It’s also covered in blankets.

One thing Hazel and I have in common is a love of fuzzy blankets.

Although I’m pretty sure she just indoctrinated me into the fuzzy blanket crew by force.

Before I’m even properly dressed down into my gray leggings and pink crop hoodie, Hazel barges into my room.

“Have you forgotten how to knock?” I ask, pulling the hoodie over my head. Bellemrows in solidarity. She’s probably trying to earn back some of the affection she lost while snuggling with Ash.

Hazel sighs, some of the wind in her sails leaving her. “You’re right. I shouldn’t do that. I’m just fucking worried about you, and I haven’t seen you since last night.”

“While the concern is appreciated, it isn’t necessary. You may leave.”

I plop onto my bed, determined to win whatever staring contest Hazel started. If she wants to be stubborn, I can be more stubborn.

Just ask Ash.

“We have a lot we need to talk about. And I haven’t pushed it because, honestly, we’ve both been through a lot the past couple months.” She takes a cautious step further into the room. “But we can’t avoid this anymore.”

“Avoid what exactly?” There really should be a therapist present for this conversation.

“Can I come in?” she asks. She’s already in the room, but I know what she’s really asking. Can we address this weird tension between us? Can we start trying to fix this? Can we talk about Mom?

Why did she have to choose today? Today, when I had to force Ash away with tears blurring my vision.

I nod anyway. Maybe she’s taking advantage of my emotional vulnerability, but I miss my sister.

She breathes a sigh of relief and sits on my bed, curling one of my blankets around her lap. “How are you after last night?”

“Honestly? I’m used to fire whispering to me, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. The fact that it asked for help was more worrying than anything.”

“You’re used to it?” Her head cocks like a confused puppy’s.

“It’s been whispering to me since puberty. I’ve never been able to actually understand it, but I could understand that it was communicating.” I slump against the headboard. I expected it to be strange, but it does feel a bit freeing to finally let out this huge secret.

She can’t hide the shock on her face, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.

“I didn’t tell anyone because Dad was already gone at that point and Mom had banned magic. I knew if I mentioned it, I’d get in trouble and you and Mom would fight.” I sigh. “So it became my secret.”

“That makes sense.” Her hand reaches for mine, grasping lightly. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone.”

“You’re making it sound like it was scary, or like I was worried. I knew it was magic and it was never threatening. It was almost fun. Something small that belonged to me.”