17. You Said It, Not Me
You Said It, Not Me
The days weigh heavily on me, despite the good that is happening.
I’m finally getting a handle on my magic in a way that doesn’t terrify me.
Magic lessons have progressed to a point where I can summon fire easily and protect myself—minimally, but still.
I don’t feel as pathetically weak as I did when I watched my mother disappear in a swirling vortex of water.
And the whispers have quietened to a manageable murmur that doesn’t pull me under.
Hazel and I can be in the same room together without me wanting to cry or rip her hair out. We haven’t had some of the heavier discussions that I know are ahead of us, but we can actually relate to each other again.
I feel useful, helping Grandma with selling her wares at the market. And I’m thoroughly enjoying spending time around other witches, hearing the gossip and immersing myself in the community.
All of that, and all I can think about is Ash. About how we’re in this strange stalemate, about how I refuse to take those steps forward.
Watching Noah and Hazel doesn’t help. I don’t understand half of what they say to each other—nerd language is not my forte—but the love is overwhelming. I honestly think he may propose soon, despite them not being together long. Or at least ask her to move in with him.
She just moved back into the house, but I think it would be good for her to be with him. It’s obvious that it’s what they both want.
I wonder if she’s letting the guilt she feels in relation to me keep her from him.
I’m not the only one watching them, either. Grandma has tears in her eyes a lot more than she used to, especially when she looks at them. She wants a soulmate, but she never found hers.
How angry would she be with me if she knew I’d found mine and I’m refusing to be with him?
It baffles me that I’m the only one of us who is trying to keep their soulmate safe. To protect them. A niggling part of my brain tries to point out that I’m really trying to protect myself, but that part sounds like a bitch, so I don’t listen.
What does she know anyway?
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone, but isn’t choosing to spend it alone better than being forced to?
“Where is your head, Laura dear?” Grandma asks, pulling my attention to her. Hazel and Noah are off on some special date, so Grandma asked me to have a private magical lesson with her in the garden. She hasn’t pushed me to go back to the magic shop, and for that I’m eternally grateful.
Even if it means sitting on cold ground.
I smile sadly. “Sorry, Grandma.”
“You know you can talk to me.” She places her hand on mine. We’re sitting opposite each other outside on our customary pillows. The bangles on her wrist jangle with every motion.
Could I really talk to her about this? Would Grandma be angry like I imagine, or would she understand?
“I have something fairly personal on my mind . . .” I trail off.
She nods. “No judgment. I promise.”
“If you could find your soulmate, knowing what we know and watching people we love die like we have, would you do it?”
Her eyes flick over to the garden she still maintains for Mom. Her brows furrow as she contemplates my question.
I appreciate that she doesn’t just answer off the cuff, that she considers what I’m asking and gives it true thought.
“Yes, I would. None of us are guaranteed anything in this life, but love is always worth it,” she says, turning back to me.
“Any of us could die at any moment, not from anything magical or daemonic, but that’s certainly no reason not to enjoy the beautiful things that life has to offer. Love included.”
My eyes burn. I knew she’d say something like that, but I didn’t want her to. I wanted her to agree with me.
“A certain someone at the market?” she asks softly.
I blush under her scrutinizing gaze. She knows exactly who I’m talking about, but I wouldn’t say his name even if I were being waterboarded.
“And you don’t want to move forward because you’re scared he’ll get hurt? Because of what happened with your father and Noah?”
I nod. “And Mom.”
Tears shine in her eyes. “I think that’s entirely understandable. And no one is going to convince you otherwise until you’re ready.”
That’s oddly validating. My thought process isn’t so ridiculous that Grandma can’t follow the logic. “But you think I’m wrong?”
“I’m not going to tell you what you feel is wrong. That would be unfair and incorrect. You feel the way you feel. But I think working through those feelings may lead you to a different perspective.”
I laugh. “Way to say I’m wrong without saying it.”
She shrugs, a soft smile dancing on her lips. “You said it, not me.”
We chuckle together, the heaviness of the conversation lifting off our shoulders and into the cold winter evening.
I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I do know I’m not going to do anything until I’m ready. And not a minute before.