42. Sanctuary in the Woods
Sanctuary in the Woods
It takes a week for me to feel strong enough to leave the house. A week in which Ash barely leaves my side, and when he does it’s only to move my stuff to his house.
Of course, the absolute weirdo insists on doing it all himself and not asking Grandma how she does it magically. Something about ‘tender loving care’ and ‘We don’t need to bother her.’
I can’t fight him on that second point. As miserable as I am being in the same house as Mom, Grandma hasn’t been seen since Mom announced her bonus baby.
I worry about her alone in that fairy-tale cottage of hers. But she’s not responding to texts other than to say she just needs time. I’m trying to be emotionally healthy and respect boundaries and all that, so I’m letting it be.
Emotional growth is hard.
“Are you ready, Goldilocks?” Ash asks.
I’ve been standing in the foyer of the house I grew up in—listening to it groan and creak—for a few minutes. The house has been something of a friend for the last twenty-one years. As much as I know it’s time, part of me feels like it’s wrong to leave.
Mom isn’t around. She said something about needing to go shopping before practically fleeing the house. I think she may be offended or hurt that I’m leaving her after all this.
But I don’t expect her to understand the bridges she’s burned. I don’t expect her to show empathy or see past her own nose long enough to acknowledge my feelings.
And I deserve better than that.
“Yeah.” I smile up at him. “I’m ready.”
He squeezes my hand, the last of my bags slung over his shoulder. Ready to take me with him to our home.
To our little sanctuary in the woods.
It’s hard not to reflect on the past few months as we drive. As the snow-covered trees flick past.
I was so angry. So neglected and raw that all I knew was how to fight. I just wanted to push the people I loved away so I could prove that they’d abandon me. That I was right all along not to trust them.
It’s so obvious now, but I couldn’t see it then.
I’m a bad-bitch witch, with a sassy sense of humor. But I was using that humor as a weapon, not as a way to connect and laugh with the people I love.
I’m going to keep seeing Dr. Farrow as well. Make a point of actually taking care of myself, because the person I am now is someone I enjoy, and I’d like to see more of her.
“You’re quiet,” Ash murmurs, hand resting on my thigh. “It’s unlike you.”
I trace the small burn scars that don’t look much different than his veins with a pang of guilt. “You like when I talk too much.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”
“I’m just thinking about how much has changed. Externally and internally. And how much more change is to come.”
“Your half sister?” he asks, squeezing me. “And Draven?”
My half sister. I’ve barely processed that bit of news. I knew my mother was capable of a lot, but having sex with a warlock and hiding an entire pregnancy is a whole different level. It’s not this half sister’s fault, of course, but yikes.
“The two big unknowns. I’m not good at opening up to the people who genuinely love me, how am I supposed to relate to some stranger?
And how are we going to convince her to help us?
I can’t imagine Draven would kill his own daughter, so would she really be in the same danger as us?
Is it even fair to ask her to help us? To put her in that position? ”
He sighs. “It’s a lot of unanswered questions. And you’re not going to know how this is all going to go, until you know.”
I glare at him.
“I know.” He grins.
I sigh. “How about instead of worrying about some half sister and murderous warlock we just . . . enjoy our home and fuck in the shower?”
“That.” He turns to me as he parks in front of our house. “Is the best thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Even better than ‘I love you?’”
His eyes soften as he leans in, our mouths just a hair apart. “No, Goldilocks. There’s nothing better in this world than hearing you say you love me.”