Page 93 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

It shook its head, and I collapsed back onto the bed.

“Yes it is. They might like to pet you and coo at you, but at the end of the day, they’ll turn on you. They’ll turn on me.” I swallowed, thinking about Nevan hating me, giving me up to the brotherhood or experimenting on me. I couldn’t bear it.

Vine shook its head again.

I crossed my arms. “I wasn’t aware you knew Nevan so well. You can’t tell me you know for certain he wouldn’t turn on me if he found out my identity.”

Vine stubbornly kept its tail pressed to my heart.

I groaned, growing frustrated. It felt like we were talking in circles. “He doesn’t love the real me, Vine. He loves the Enid who’s just a peculiar woman with an affinity for plants.”

Vine slumped to the bed, finally giving up.

I swallowed back my tears. I’d cried enough for one day. Cried enough for a lifetime. Now I just wanted to sleep and forget all of this ever happened.

My gaze caught on the teacup and the little cake with frosting that sat on my nightstand. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing it would be ginger tea, exactly what I’d told Nevan I’d want if I needed comfort. And that little cake—Nevan had called it a cupcake. I’d been staring at it through the bakery window on our first date, and Nevan had noticed. Of course he had.

I grabbed the dessert and took a bite, finally letting my heart break into a million pieces.

CHAPTER 37

Nevan

Istitched up my last patient of the day, the sun sinking over the horizon, lighting up the room in a golden hue.

The new spectacles I’d had made sat on the bridge of my nose, and I pushed them up, hating that just having them made me think of Enid, think of how I had to get new spectacles because she’d stepped on mine. And all that did was make my heart clench tight in pain.

I watched as my patient left, the door clicking closed. Then I let myself collapse, head and arms resting on the table in the middle of the room. I’d been numb since yesterday when Enid had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship.

What I couldn’t figure out was why.

Maybe she’d been alone so long she had no interest in sharing a life with another person. I couldn’t blame her, but the entire interaction had crushed my soul. I’d barely been able to function today, going through the motions as best I could.

A knock sounded on the door, and I lifted my head as the door swung open, Cillian appearing in the doorway.

“I’m really not in the mood,” I said.

I hadn’t seen him since a few days ago when he was drunk off his ass at my mother’s cottage.

Cillian stepped inside. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” I said drily. “But I meant it. I’m not in the mood to talk, Cillian.”

Cillian rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t have to do the talking. I came by to say that I’m sorry.”

That was unexpected. Cillian very rarely apologized. I sat up a little straighter. “Sorry for what, exactly?” I wanted to hear him say it.

Cillian sighed and sat in my patient chair in front of me. “For not seeing how overworked and tired you’ve been.”

Ah. I crossed my arms. “I wondered how much of that night you remembered.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Not all of it. But Wolfe didn’t hold back when he visited and gave me the rundown. Then Mother visited, and she didn’t hold back either. Between the two of them, I got quite the scolding.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I was such an ass.”

“You’ve said sorry twice now.” I narrowed my gaze. “Are you feeling sick?”

Cillian punched my arm. “I’ll take it all back,” he warned, and I laughed for the first time all day.

“I quit.”