Page 93 of Witchy Woman

She’s staring at Mom with accusations I have no words for. With implications that I have no interest in addressing right now.

Mom sniffs, refusing to make eye contact. “Nothing. What matters is that I’m back, and he is going to be furious oncehe realizes what we’ve done. We have to focus on protecting ourselves.”

As contrite as Mom appeared to be initially, she’s certainly back to her usual defensive, non-committal self. She’ll never change.

“Once I’m back on my feet, I’m going to be moving in with Ash.” I may not have asked him if I could move in, but I can’t imagine he’ll say no. And honestly, there’s no way I’m staying in Mom’s house after this.

She and I are done. I’ll help protect the family when the time comes, and I’ll continue being close with Hazel and Grandma, but that’s it.

“What a coincidence,” Hazel says, smiling at me. “Noah and I have been talking about renting our own place. I think we’ll finally take the plunge.”

Looks like times are changing.

Mom finally gets exactly what she wants. To be alone in that house with only the memories of Dad to keep her warm.

Chapter 42

Sanctuary in the Woods

It takes a week for me to feel strong enough to leave the house. A week in which Ash barely leaves my side, and when he does it’s only to move my stuff to his house.

Of course, the absolute weirdo insists on doing it all himself and not asking Grandma how she does it magically. Something about ‘tender loving care’ and ‘We don’t need to bother her.’

I can’t fight him on that second point. As miserable as I am being in the same house as Mom, Grandma hasn’t been seen since Mom announced her bonus baby.

I worry about her alone in that fairy-tale cottage of hers. But she’s not responding to texts other than to say she just needs time. I’m trying to be emotionally healthy and respect boundaries and all that, so I’m letting it be.

Emotional growth is hard.

“Are you ready, Goldilocks?” Ash asks.

I’ve been standing in the foyer of the house I grew up in—listening to it groan and creak—for a few minutes. The house has been something of a friend for the last twenty-one years. As much as I know it’s time, part of me feels like it’s wrong to leave.

Mom isn’t around. She said something about needing to go shopping before practically fleeing the house. I think she may be offended or hurt that I’m leaving her after all this.

But I don’t expect her to understand the bridges she’s burned. I don’t expect her to show empathy or see past her own nose long enough to acknowledge my feelings.

And I deserve better than that.

“Yeah.” I smile up at him. “I’m ready.”

He squeezes my hand, the last of my bags slung over his shoulder. Ready to take me with him to our home.

To our little sanctuary in the woods.

It’s hard not to reflect on the past few months as we drive. As the snow-covered trees flick past.

I was so angry. So neglected and raw that all I knew was how to fight. I just wanted to push the people I loved away so I could prove that they’d abandon me. That I was right all along not to trust them.

It’s so obvious now, but I couldn’t see it then.

I’m a bad-bitch witch, with a sassy sense of humor. But I was using that humor as a weapon, not as a way to connect and laugh with the people I love.

I’m going to keep seeing Dr. Farrow as well. Make a point of actually taking care of myself, because the person I am now is someone I enjoy, and I’d like to see more of her.

“You’re quiet,” Ash murmurs, hand resting on my thigh. “It’s unlike you.”

I trace the small burn scars that don’t look much different than his veins with a pang of guilt. “You like when I talk too much.”