10. Bullshit
Bullshit
“Idon’t think I’ve ever seen you this angry, other than when you’re talking to me. Should I be jealous?” Ash’s amused voice startles me out of glaring at nothing the next day.
He never sneaks up on me. I must be more distracted than I thought.
Belle mrows at him from where she’s twisted around my legs, pulling his attention away from any response I may have had for him.
She stands, stretching lazily, and approaches where he crouches down in a squat.
I can’t see what his ass looks like in that position—thank God—but his thighs are thick and muscled and sinful.
“And who is this darling?” he asks, holding his hand out for her to sniff.
Here I was thinking she was an angel, but she’s already snuggling up to the enemy. Traitor.
Am I jealous of a cat now? Fuck this.
“I’ve missed you,” he adds quietly. It’s a soft, honest admission that shoots through my chest like a painful lance.
“Her name is Belle,” I reply, ignoring his confession.
After yesterday’s incident with the fire, I barely have the energy for Ash Cedar. I don’t have the energy to verbally spar with him or to pretend I don’t dream about riding him until I’m screaming every night.
His hand is definitely not wrapped around my neck, either.
“Hi Belle,” he coos at her. “Aren’t you beautiful?”
“Don’t tell me you’re a cat person.”
He meets my gaze. “I’m an Earth witch, Goldilocks. I’m an everything person.”
While he hasn’t outright said he’s an Earth witch before now, it’s the only thing that would make any sort of sense. The whole family-business-of-trees thing and connection to the earth is like a neon fucking sign.
I cross my arms and barely refrain from sticking my tongue out at him. It absolutely doesn’t warm my heart or make my insides tingle that Belle adores him so much.
They’re also very not cute together.
Whatever.
“What’s got you all worked up?” Ash asks, fully sitting on the cold ground now as Belle nuzzles into his neck.
Lucky bitch.
“I’m not worked up.” Even as I say it, I cringe. I sound like I have a stick so far up my own ass I could choke on it.
The eyebrow raise I get in reply proves it.
“Fine!” I throw my hands up. “There’s just weird shit in my family ever since my mom . . . whatever. And weird shit with my magic.”
He slides his thick fingers over Belle’s ears, her purr so loud I can hear her from where I sit. “I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the best at mom dynamics, seeing as it’s only ever been me and my dad. But I can help with magic shit.”
The words ‘it’s none of your fucking business’ are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t force them out. How nice would it be to have someone else to talk to about this whole witchy nonsense?
Talking to Hazel is a goddamn minefield, and Grandma is great, but I don’t trust her not to be plotting with my sister.
“I’m a Fire witch,” I say, unable to stop a little bit of pride from leaking out.
He nods with a knowing smile. “Had a feeling. What’s going on with it that’s got you weirded out?”
“Fire whispers to me.” Maybe this was the trick all along. Tell him that fire talks to me and convince him I’m insane.
I bet he’ll keep his distance now.
“Okay.” His eyebrows knit together and it makes me want to smooth the lines out with my thumb. “Elaborate for me.”
I huff a breath. “I don’t know. It’s just always been a thing.
I don’t fucking understand it! It’s just that when I focus on the flames, I can hear whispers.
They don’t ever mean anything to me, it’s all gibberish.
Except for recently. Hazel wants to have a funeral for Mom—for, like, closure or whatever—and every single time she brings it up, the fire says no.
And I’ve been keeping it to myself because Hazel’s a judgy bitch, and I let it slip finally last night. ”
“That’s definitely weird. But I think you’re right to want to take some time to figure out what that means for you,” he says. Easily. As if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if he just understands where I’m coming from.
Just gets it.
What the fuck.
“Can you go back to being an unreasonable brute, please?” I ask, a small smile creeping across my face. “This whole understanding bit is getting weirder than the whispers.”
His laugh is loud, unrestrained joy that I want to roll around in. Soak in. Enjoy. “I promise not to be too helpful.”
“That’s not a hard promise to make for you.”
“I don’t know, Goldilocks, everyone else seems to find me helpful. You seem to be the only one who doesn’t like me.”
His words stop me short. Of course I like him.
The entire problem is that I like him.
He’s funny, witty, intelligent, hardworking, selfless with his family, has the body of a god, and talks to me like I’m an intelligent peer. Not an idiot or a child.
And I can’t fucking have him.
Frustration burns in my chest until it hurts. Why can’t I just not give a fuck like Hazel? She parades Noah around practically daring daemons to kidnap him—and he’s a defenseless human!
At least Ash is a witch and could protect himself somewhat. But even that isn’t good enough, and it makes no sense that I’m the only one who sees this.
“Hey.” Ash pulls me out of my head. “I know you’re worried about the whispering, but I can help you figure this out.”
The kindness in his eyes, the understanding and softness in his voice, makes me want to cry.
The only person who wants to help me, and I can’t even touch him.
I swallow the ball of emotion and turn my face into a blank mask. “I’ve got this. Thank you, though.”
“Bullshit.”
I grind my teeth. “Excuse me?”
He gently pushes Belle off his lap and stands. “I said bullshit.”
“And what exactly do you think is bullshit?” I follow suit, standing to match him. I may not be a short woman, but his size dwarfs me completely.
That doesn’t mean I’ll back down, though.
“I get that you’ve got walls so high you can barely see past them, but at some point you’re going to have to let someone in. And I’m telling you—showing you—that I want that person to be me. I’m showing up for you, Goldilocks.”
Isn’t that all I’ve ever wanted? For someone to show up for me? To choose me?
“Did you ever think that maybe I can open up, I just don’t want to open up to you?”
The hurt that flashes across his face feels like a knife in my gut. Being mean will push him away, will protect him.
I have to protect him. He’s dealing with enough, with his dad and trying to maintain his family business on his own.
“Bull.” He steps closer. “Shit.”
I square up to him, despite it hurting my neck to look up at him. “Stop saying that.”
“Stop saying bullshitty lies, then.”
“I’m not lying!”
I don’t want him to leave me alone. I want to be selfish for five seconds and give in. I want to choose this man who chooses me, but I’m choosing to protect him. I’m choosing to be a better person than the shitty facade I show to everyone else.
I’m choosing to give him what he needs, even if it’s not what he wants. Not what I want.
“I can feel how much you hurt.” His voice drops so low I can barely hear him. “I can feel it in my fucking bones and I don’t know why. But what I do know is that it means something.”
My eyes burn at his tone, at the pleading in his voice.
I’m doing the right thing.
“Leave me alone,” I whisper.
He nods, backing up a step. “Fine, I will. But I’m always here for you, despite how stubborn you can be. When you realize that, you know where I’ll be.”
And he leaves me alone with Belle glaring at me.