28. Phil #2
I gripped the counter, knuckles white and heart hammering.
“There has to be some kind of mistake. And even if there isn’t, with you and Dad bonded to the house, no judge in their right mind would forcibly take it or the land from you.
That’s against the law.” It was one of the reasons pixies didn’t bond to homes or land unless they had permission from the owner or owned the area themselves.
To remove a pixie from a bonded location was a death sentence.
Mom inhaled sharply. “That’s not . . . I mean, the lawyer said there was another option and told us the cost of the land and our home.
” Mom’s voice got whisper-soft, almost like she feared speaking louder would make her words true.
“Phil, you should have heard the number she quoted us. It . . . it might as well have been a trillion dollars because both would be far beyond our means.”
I swallowed hard and rubbed the fabric over my thumping heart. “Is that when the house threw her out?”
“No, that wasn’t what did it.”
“Goddess, Mom. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. You need a lawyer. I’ve got a little extra money now. I can send it to you if that will help.”
“Honey, no. Your dad and I will manage. We just . . . Well, do you want to know what the oddest part of the whole thing was?”
“Odder than what you’ve already told me?” I couldn’t even begin to imagine and didn’t think I wanted to.
“That lawyer that was here, she seemed to know something about you. She started asking questions about you, about us. She had the stones to ask if we were of pure pixie lineage. Can you imagine the nerve!” Mom’s voice rose an octave or twelve.
“That’s when the house threw her out.” Mom’s voice sounded stronger.
“You should have seen the look on her stoic fairy face.” Satisfaction rang through Mom’s tone.
“You don’t mess with a home-and-hearth pixie, not when they’re within their bonded territory. ”
The tips of my fingers and toes tingled, and my wings fluttered madly. Pixie dust surrounded me in a foggy, pink haze. “What does that have to do with the house?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. We inherited our home from your great-grandmother, but beyond that, I haven’t a clue.” Mom sighed, long and deep. “Honestly, I didn’t want to call and bother you with this, but when that fairy lawyer brought your name into things . . . Well, I didn’t know what to think.”
I didn’t know what to think either.
“Phil.” Dad must have calmed down enough to come back into the room. “We wanted to call and give you a heads-up, but I don’t want you to worry about us.”
I pulled the phone away from my face and gaped at it. How in the hell was I not supposed to worry?
Before I could answer, Dad asked, “That new job of yours still going okay?”
I thought about Sedrick, Ruthie, Dillon, the house, and the garden waiting for new life. My anxiety and fear didn’t disappear, but they dissipated into something that felt manageable. “Yeah, Dad, it’s still going well. I love it here.”
“We’re so happy to hear that.” My mom sounded happy too. And not just happy but relieved. “We’re so proud of you, honey. I know you like your independence, but you know you can call us anytime.”
My voice caught in my throat, and I answered, “Thanks, Mom,” with little more than a croak.
“Anytime, kiddo,” my dad answered. “You take care and let us know if anything changes on your end. We’ll do the same on ours. Okay?”
“Sounds good.”
“We love you, Phil.” My mom never left a conversation without telling me that.
“I know. I love you too.”
“Take care, and we’ll talk later.”
The line went dead, and I stood there, staring at my phone and the fact that I was no longer connected to anyone. As my phone died down, the black screen came on, and in its darkened mirror, I saw Sedrick’s looming figure standing behind me.
I jumped, and my wings fluttered madly while I spun in the air and turned. Pink pixie dust littered the kitchen, disappearing as it touched the surrounding surfaces. I clutched my phone to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. I hadn’t heard Sedrick approach, and so far, he hadn’t said a word.
“You scared me.” I offered up a weak smile as my toes touched the ground again. My heart still beat wildly, but it quieted some. I smiled up at Sedrick, but my smile slipped away when he didn’t grin back.
“Sedrick, is everything okay?” I leaned around his towering form, looking for Dillon and Ruthie, but the table was empty.
They’d devoured all their food, and their plates were clean but still sitting on the table.
That was odd. Sedrick usually insisted they cleared the table when they were done. “Where are the kids?”
“Are your parents okay?” Sedrick asked instead of answering my question. His tone was flat, not a hint of what he truly thought. Sedrick’s eyes looked like spun gold, his wolf touching the surface.
“They’re fine,” I answered while setting the phone on the counter behind me.
I opened my mouth, ready to tell him about the lawyer that had visited and the absolute nonsense she’d spewed.
And it had to be nonsense. Wasn’t it? Mom was right.
Her grandmother left the house and land to my mom and dad in her will.
Wills were binding legal documents. It had been written up by a fairy law firm and everything.
I thought about telling Sedrick about my conversation but clammed up. Sedrick had enough to worry about, and I didn’t want to add to those concerns.
Sedrick stiffened. “You sounded concerned.”
I tried to wave it off, but my fluttering wings most likely gave away my growing anxiety. “It’s just something minor, nothing to worry over.”
I’d expected Sedrick to relax, but he didn’t. Sedrick’s jaw tightened; his lips pinched down into little more than a thin line. With measured steps, Sedrick moved away from me. His fingers clenched before they released, only to repeat the pattern.
I was starting to get worried. “Sedrick? Is there—”
“It’s been a long day. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. It’s late. You can spend the night here—tonight. Ruthie’s in Dillon’s room, so you can have her bed. Good night, Phil.” Sedrick spun and strode from the room. His footfalls sounded loud yet distant, as if from far away.
Leaning against the counter, I stood there and stared at where Sedrick had been, at the empty plates on the table and the even emptier house. The wind whistled, sharp and chilling, outside. The house groaned against it and the flames in the fireplace lowered to little more than glowing embers.
I had no idea what had happened. Earlier, Sedrick had felt so warm and gentle against my back.
He’d asked me to sit at the table like family.
But his final statement, that I could stay tonight , made it sound like I wouldn’t be welcome tomorrow.
Just a few days earlier, Sedrick said he didn’t want me to go back to the boarding house.
Confusion swam through me, settling like a lump of coal in my gut.
Robotically, I cleared the table and washed the dishes.
I cleaned up dinner and put the minuscule leftovers in the refrigerator.
I barely realized the door opened and closed without a single touch of my flesh.
Sedrick’s house was a constant buzz in the back of my brain, worrying and fretting over my change in mood.
I tried to console it but didn’t think my efforts were the best.
I crawled into Ruthie’s bed and pulled her sheets over me, wondering if this would be the last night I spent in her or Dillon’s bed. Sadness and worry tugged at me, putting rest aside and allowing doubt to filter in, pushing the cracks of my self-confidence wider until little was left.
Sleep came in troubled fits and starts, and when dawn broke the horizon, I both welcomed and dreaded it with equal measure.