Page 89 of Witchy Woman

I’m awake, but I can’t force words from my throat yet. Can’t crack open an eyelid. Not yet.

“She’s going to wake up,” Ash’s growl rumbles from my left. He must be sitting on...the bed? I’m on a bed. I must be.

The blankets rasp against my skin as I register the pillow beneath my head.

He’s okay. His arms were charred, stank of burned flesh. Maybe I dreamed it. Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe it was the magic changing my perception.

“I deserve your ire,” Mom says, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

No actual apology—God forbid—just an acknowledgment that the anger is valid. What a fucking trip.

I hear rustling. Maybe walking? “You deserve a lot more than my ire.”

Go Hazel.

“Baby, let’s take a walk.” Noah’s soothing tone enters the chat. “Let’s take a breath. They’ll let us know if Laura wakes up. You coming, Ash?”

I am awake! I want to shout it, but sensations are only just returning to my body. I don’t have the strength yet.

“No. I don’t want her to be left alone.” ‘With her mother’ is left unsaid, but not unfelt.

The shuffle of steps and slam of a door marks Noah and Hazel’s departure.

The following awkward silence proves that Ash didn’t leave. I haven’t opened my eyes, but I know him well enough to know he’s staring daggers into my mother right now.

“I don’t blame you for not trusting me. You have every right to hate me,” Mom says eventually. The passage of time still hasn’t fully caught up with me yet.

More silence.

“Was it worth it?” Ash asks. “Losing the love, trust, and respect of your family? Your daughters probably won’t speak to you again. Your mother loves you so much, but even she’s disappointed.”

A heavy breath from my mother. “I can’t answer that for you.”

A snort almost escapes me. It puts up a good fight, but my body isn’t ready.

“Then I suggest you get the fuck out of my face until Laura wakes up and can tell you what she wants herself.”

Even like this, the protectiveness in his voice makes me want to shiver. It does end up raising goosebumps on my skin.

Nothing happens for a few beats, long enough that I’m pretty sure she’s going to refuse. But then a chair screeches and the door opens and closes.

Despite how pissed Ash must be at me, he refuses to leave my side. I lied to him and he’s still here.

“I love you.” The words finally escape me. My first words just as my right eye cracks open to see him framed by the background of my childhood bedroom. “I love you, Ash.”

My voice is gravelly with disuse and probable smoke inhalation, but it doesn’t matter because Ash’s face lights up the moment he hears it.

His beardless face. Even without a beard, Ash Cedar is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. All sharp lines and full lips. I barely even notice the marks.

“I love you, too.” He scoops up my hand, pressing it to his lips. “Goddamn, Goldilocks, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“I’ve been lied to,” I whine, unable to fight a smile. “You’re going to have to find a spell to grow that beard back because your face is giving me the ick.”

His laugh is large, boisterous and beautiful. “Then don’t burn my beard off again.”

My mind finally catches up to the marks on his cheek. Panic rises again as I attempt to sit up. I need to see his arms.

He sees what I’m trying to do and lifts them for me. It’s obvious it’s been some time since I lost consciousness because they’re not as angry as I’d expect, but they’re scarred. I bet that weird witchy healer who helped Hazel is the reason they’re not as bad as I thought, but they won’t ever look the same.