Page 80 of Witchy Woman

Hazel—who has been sipping the let’s-share-our-feelings tea for five minutes—clears her throat. “The holiday itself was actually really nice. The best Christmas I think we’ve had as a family since Dad died.”

Not an incorrect statement.

“That’s a strong sentiment.” Dr. Farrow crosses her legs. “What makes you say that, Hazel?”

“Mom had such a heavy energy. She didn’t really leave room for any emotions other than hers. And hers were anger,resentment, unwavering sorrow...None of the emotions you’d want to associate with a happy holiday,” she says.

I’m still impressed with the balls Hazel has grown. She may have gone to bat for me with Mom every day, but she never went to bat for herself. And now? Now she is.

Dr. Farrow shakes her head, pen scribbling in her notebook thanks to that magical plant of hers. I’d pay good money to see what’s in there. “No, those aren’t emotions I’d hope for, myself. I’m glad you all had a lovely holiday.”

The silence is deafening. The elephant in the room is inflating until it sucks up all the air.

“How are things progressing with the plans to rescue your mother?” Dr. Farrow finally asks.

“Just fine, thank you,” I reply. I don’t know why I’m hoping that’ll close that conversation, but I can tell by the large huff of breath from Hazel that it did the opposite.

Cool.

“Laura is going to risk her life and I’m not okay with it,” Hazel says. She had been doing a good job for the last few weeks of keeping her mouth shut about all this, but that tea.

That goddamn tea.

“I had a feeling the task would be dangerous, but is it truly life threatening?” Dr. Farrow turns to me. I’m glad she actually trusts me to tell her the truth. That softens my walls a little.

I nod. “I’m risking my soul.”

“She’s risking becoming a giant husk as she’s tortured in Hell forever by souls wanting to use her as a bridge.”

Thank you, Hazel, for that clarification.

Dr. Farrow’s eyes widen. It’s definitely not what she was expecting, but to be fair, it’s not what any of us were initially expecting.

I just thought we had all gotten used to the idea by now. But apparently Hazel has been holding on to her doubt in a vise grip.

More silence.

“You’ve decided to proceed anyway, Laura?” Dr. Farrow asks. Her tone—surprisingly—isn’t judgmental or laced with I-know-better-than-you energy like Hazel’s. It’s just a clarifying question.

I look down at my fingers. “Yes. I have to try. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t. If it doesn’t work, I’ll pull back. But I’m going to try.”

Dr. Farrow leans in. “Why wouldn’t you be able to live with yourself?”

“Because!” I huff. “She literally trapped herself in Hell for us! While she wasn’t the mother we needed for most of our lives, she was the mother we needed at that moment. And she certainly seemed to show some form of self-awareness in her letter.”

“She didn’t do it for any of us,” Hazel says, practically slamming her empty teacup on the table. “I read the same letter you did, but I don’t trust a word of it. She did this because she’s obsessed with punishing Draven. She did it so she could take him down.”

I turn to her. “Maybe. But she still saved Noah in the process. I’m honestly surprised you aren’t a little more grateful.”

An angry gust of wind flares around us despite the window being closed.

“Girls.” Grandma’s weary voice comes from the other end of the couch. I almost forgot she was here.

“No, no.” Dr. Farrow puts her hand up. “I have a feeling a lot of these feelings are actively repressed. It may lead to conflict, but it’s good to get it out. As long as we stay respectful, it’s better to be open and honest.”

None of us know what to say to that. But I know she’s not wrong. A fight has been brewing for months. Years, probably. And I know it’s coming.

If the anger in Hazel’s eyes is any indication, it’s coming sooner rather than later.