Page 90 of Witchy Woman

I didn’t imagine it.

Guilt prickles my eyes, makes my vision swim. “What happened?”

He breathes heavily, kissing my palm. “I had to pull you from hellfire, Goldilocks. And I’d do it again.”

“How bad was it?”

“I didn’t think I’d make it in time. I ran into the backyard and there you were—flames enveloping your skin like a shield. I didn’t think, didn’t listen, just grabbed you and pulled. I didn’t even notice the burns until after you looked at me.”

Guilt pierces like a knife. “I’m sorry I lied to you about the rescue. About our plans. I was trying to keep you from getting hurt, and I was wrong.”

“You’re fucking right you were wrong.” His gaze is stern. “And you’re never going to lie to me again.”

I nod. “Never again.”

He must hear the seriousness in my tone, notice the change in who I am, because he just nods back.

“Did I hear—” Mom’s head pokes in and her voice cuts off as she sees me awake.

I didn’t get a good look at her in Hell, just her eyes. But here she is. A mirror image of me as a brunette and featuring stress wrinkles. No love follows. No affection. No real anger either.

Just . . . apathy.

“Give us a minute?” I ask Ash, squeezing his hand as hard as I can. Which isn’t much.

His face hardens. He doesn’t like this option, and I don’t blame him.

“I need some closure and then you can stick to me like glue.”

Ash stands, kissing the top of my head. “I’ll be right outside the door. I’ll know if you need me.”

Yes, he will.

I’m half-convinced he’s going to bodycheck Mom as he passes her, but all he does is glare and close the door behind him.

Leaving us alone in my bedroom. How many times has she been in this room in my twenty-one years? Few enough that I struggle to remember even one.

She doesn’t speak right away. Just walks to the small wooden chair on my right and sits down, scooting as close to the bed as she can get.

I guess trying to figure out where to begin would be difficult in her situation. That doesn’t mean I have any sympathy for her, though.

“I met Belle,” she starts. “She’s standing guard outside your door. Has been for the last three days since you fell unconscious.”

That’s long enough to explain how worried everyone is. I know how worried I was when Hazel got hurt.

“I’m surprised she didn’t scratch you.”

“She tried.” Her face falls further. “I’m sorry, Laura.”

I had convinced myself that Mom saw the error in her ways, or at the very least could acknowledge them. But what I know now is that Hazel was right. Every word of that letter was crap. Or at least, written at the moment she thought she was going to die and full of things she didn’t really mean.

Because when push came to shove, she wanted to sacrifice me to save Dad. She would’ve been okay with that.

“An apology? I didn’t realize you were capable of those. You know, considering they require some sort of self-reflection.”

Okay, so maybe it’s not pure apathy I feel.

She shakes her head. “I deserve that. I’ve failed everyone in a lot of ways, but I think sometimes I failed you the most.”