Page 57 of Witchy Woman

This person is more Laura Hollis than I’ve ever felt.

I pocket the compact with the letter and photograph, turning my back on the room.

I wake before Ash,despite being up for most of the night, and it’s easy to pretend I don’t need to deal with everything that happened in Mom’s room yet.

It’s also easy to prioritize caffeine over everything else when you’re as drained as I am. The warm scent of French press leads me to the kitchen. Not my first choice, but irresistible in this moment.

Noah is there, preparing two cups, and he looks up at my approach.

We’re the only people awake in the house, and by the look on his face I am the absolute last person he wants to see.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, as if I might snap at him.

“I’m sorry for the other night,” I reply. May as well rip the Band-Aid off, and I am sorry. I’m just not ready to say it to Hazel yet.

He exhales a large breath, shoulders lowering in relief. I’m not surprised he expected a fight. He hasn’t really seen the best of me.

He passes me with steaming mugs in hand as I head toward the cupboard. “She loves you a lot, you know.” Noah’s wordsstop me dead. “Hazel loves you so much. She just...The way your mom raised the both of you sounds like absolute shit. And she struggles with how to be a sister to you after...you know.” His hand waves a little in what I’m assuming is reference to his kidnapping and Mom.

I nod, unable to do more in reply. With a smile, he’s back on his way upstairs.

Our dynamic was thrown on its head when she left, and knowing Mom is alive? RIP our sanity.

I should probably bring Ash some coffee. If I had to guess, he’s either a massive sugar junkie or takes it completely black.

No in between.

Noah made some peppermint coffee thing that smells like Christmas and I’m practically salivating over it by the time I make it back to my room.

“That smells fucking delicious,” Ash growls from underneath a mountain of pillows he’s managed to burrow under in my absence. His head pops up. “And I don’t just mean the coffee.”

“How are you managing to be charming when you’re barely awake? Please don’t tell me you’re a morning person.”

Morning people are a specific breed of weird.

He chuckles, diving back into his soft fortress. “M’not usually. But I can’t help it when you’re around.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite my words I crawl back into bed with him, leaning against the cream fabric headboard.

It’s entirely domestic, really. Waking up slowly together with a cup of coffee in a warm bed.

“Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” Ash asks, sitting up with me and grabbing the extra cup.

“Not really. But I’m assuming you’re probably worried?”

He huffs a laugh with no humor. “I’m not a huge fan of the fact that you’ve been communicating with Hell, no. And I’d like to know what the plan is.”

“That makes two of us,” I mutter, taking a sip. It’s Christmas in a cup. Peppermint and chocolate and coffee all swirled together like the best candy cane.

“Just talk to me, Goldilocks.” He places his hand on my thigh over the covers. “And we’ll figure it out.”

I close my eyes, leaning my head back. How do I even begin to process all that’s happened, and all that’s now changed?

I attempted to last night and look where that got me. Sobbing like an idiot until Ash fell asleep and then roaming the house like some sort of dramatic ghost.

Listen, crying is great. Super awesome. Release those emotions, burn those calories. But not like that. Not like what I did.