40. Beardfishing
Beardfishing
It’s the yelling that finally drags me from the nothingness of my unconscious mind. There were no dreams, no nightmares.
Just nothing.
Until the yelling.
“You don’t care about a single fucking person but yourself!” It’s Hazel’s voice. Full of anger and bitter tears. “You risked your own daughter’s life and now we have no idea if she’ll ever wake up! It’s been three days, and she hasn’t even blinked!”
I’m awake, but I can’t force words from my throat yet. Can’t crack open an eyelid. Not yet.
“She’s going to wake up,” Ash’s growl rumbles from my left. He must be sitting on . . . the bed? I’m on a bed. I must be.
The blankets rasp against my skin as I register the pillow beneath my head.
He’s okay. His arms were charred, stank of burned flesh. Maybe I dreamed it. Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe it was the magic changing my perception.
“I deserve your ire,” Mom says, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.
No actual apology—God forbid—just an acknowledgment that the anger is valid. What a fucking trip.
I hear rustling. Maybe walking? “You deserve a lot more than my ire.”
Go Hazel.
“Baby, let’s take a walk.” Noah’s soothing tone enters the chat. “Let’s take a breath. They’ll let us know if Laura wakes up. You coming, Ash?”
I am awake! I want to shout it, but sensations are only just returning to my body. I don’t have the strength yet.
“No. I don’t want her to be left alone.” ‘With her mother’ is left unsaid, but not unfelt.
The shuffle of steps and slam of a door marks Noah and Hazel’s departure.
The following awkward silence proves that Ash didn’t leave. I haven’t opened my eyes, but I know him well enough to know he’s staring daggers into my mother right now.
“I don’t blame you for not trusting me. You have every right to hate me,” Mom says eventually. The passage of time still hasn’t fully caught up with me yet.
More silence.
“Was it worth it?” Ash asks. “Losing the love, trust, and respect of your family? Your daughters probably won’t speak to you again. Your mother loves you so much, but even she’s disappointed.”
A heavy breath from my mother. “I can’t answer that for you.”
A snort almost escapes me. It puts up a good fight, but my body isn’t ready.
“Then I suggest you get the fuck out of my face until Laura wakes up and can tell you what she wants herself.”
Even like this, the protectiveness in his voice makes me want to shiver. It does end up raising goosebumps on my skin.
Nothing happens for a few beats, long enough that I’m pretty sure she’s going to refuse. But then a chair screeches and the door opens and closes.
Despite how pissed Ash must be at me, he refuses to leave my side. I lied to him and he’s still here.
“I love you.” The words finally escape me. My first words just as my right eye cracks open to see him framed by the background of my childhood bedroom. “I love you, Ash.”
My voice is gravelly with disuse and probable smoke inhalation, but it doesn’t matter because Ash’s face lights up the moment he hears it.
His beardless face. Even without a beard, Ash Cedar is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. All sharp lines and full lips. I barely even notice the marks.
“I love you, too.” He scoops up my hand, pressing it to his lips. “Goddamn, Goldilocks, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”
“I’ve been lied to,” I whine, unable to fight a smile. “You’re going to have to find a spell to grow that beard back because your face is giving me the ick.”
His laugh is large, boisterous and beautiful. “Then don’t burn my beard off again.”
My mind finally catches up to the marks on his cheek. Panic rises again as I attempt to sit up. I need to see his arms.
He sees what I’m trying to do and lifts them for me.
It’s obvious it’s been some time since I lost consciousness because they’re not as angry as I’d expect, but they’re scarred.
I bet that weird witchy healer who helped Hazel is the reason they’re not as bad as I thought, but they won’t ever look the same.
I didn’t imagine it.
Guilt prickles my eyes, makes my vision swim. “What happened?”
He breathes heavily, kissing my palm. “I had to pull you from hellfire, Goldilocks. And I’d do it again.”
“How bad was it?”
“I didn’t think I’d make it in time. I ran into the backyard and there you were—flames enveloping your skin like a shield. I didn’t think, didn’t listen, just grabbed you and pulled. I didn’t even notice the burns until after you looked at me.”
Guilt pierces like a knife. “I’m sorry I lied to you about the rescue. About our plans. I was trying to keep you from getting hurt, and I was wrong.”
“You’re fucking right you were wrong.” His gaze is stern. “And you’re never going to lie to me again.”
I nod. “Never again.”
He must hear the seriousness in my tone, notice the change in who I am, because he just nods back.
“Did I hear—” Mom’s head pokes in and her voice cuts off as she sees me awake.
I didn’t get a good look at her in Hell, just her eyes. But here she is. A mirror image of me as a brunette and featuring stress wrinkles. No love follows. No affection. No real anger either.
Just . . . apathy.
“Give us a minute?” I ask Ash, squeezing his hand as hard as I can. Which isn’t much.
His face hardens. He doesn’t like this option, and I don’t blame him.
“I need some closure and then you can stick to me like glue.”
Ash stands, kissing the top of my head. “I’ll be right outside the door. I’ll know if you need me.”
Yes, he will.
I’m half-convinced he’s going to bodycheck Mom as he passes her, but all he does is glare and close the door behind him.
Leaving us alone in my bedroom. How many times has she been in this room in my twenty-one years? Few enough that I struggle to remember even one.
She doesn’t speak right away. Just walks to the small wooden chair on my right and sits down, scooting as close to the bed as she can get.
I guess trying to figure out where to begin would be difficult in her situation. That doesn’t mean I have any sympathy for her, though.
“I met Belle,” she starts. “She’s standing guard outside your door. Has been for the last three days since you fell unconscious.”
That’s long enough to explain how worried everyone is. I know how worried I was when Hazel got hurt.
“I’m surprised she didn’t scratch you.”
“She tried.” Her face falls further. “I’m sorry, Laura.”
I had convinced myself that Mom saw the error in her ways, or at the very least could acknowledge them. But what I know now is that Hazel was right. Every word of that letter was crap. Or at least, written at the moment she thought she was going to die and full of things she didn’t really mean.
Because when push came to shove, she wanted to sacrifice me to save Dad. She would’ve been okay with that.
“An apology? I didn’t realize you were capable of those. You know, considering they require some sort of self-reflection.”
Okay, so maybe it’s not pure apathy I feel.
She shakes her head. “I deserve that. I’ve failed everyone in a lot of ways, but I think sometimes I failed you the most.”
“I’d agree with that, but it would be dismissive of Hazel and Grandma.”
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s also fair. I owe you all a lifetime of apologies, and it’s only thanks to you that I have that opportunity.”
Anger rises again. That opportunity almost came at the cost of my life, and at the cost of Ash.
“Listen to me. Ash could have died because of you. And I did almost die because of you. Whatever amends you have to make burned up in the flames I pulled you from. You may have given me life twenty-one years ago, but I saved yours. I don’t owe you anything—including forgiveness.”
I expect pain in her eyes, or some cutting remark, but the woman in front of me just takes it.
“I’ll be here if you ever want to try,” she replies. “Regardless, though, we do need to plan for Draven. Freeing me—and your father—is going to set him off.”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
“We’re going to need your sister.”
“Hazel just went outside to cool off for a second. Not that I blame her.”
Mom blows out a frustrated breath and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean her, Laura. I meant your eldest sister.”