Page 92 of Love's a Witch
“Maybe you could apprentice there,” Nova suggested, and Lyra perked up, slapping Nova’s arm.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
When a knock sounded at the door, I glanced at the clock on the wall as I veered toward the door. It was a bit late for a visitor.
I opened the door and froze.
Snow swirled inside, blisteringly cold, and the streetlights shone weakly against the intensity of the storm.
My father offered me a tentative smile.
“Dad?” Tears pricked my eyes.
“What?” Nova shrieked from behind me.
“What… what’s wrong? What’s happening?” Broca screeched, waking up from her nap.
“Best to come in,” I said, stepping back, feeling… nothing. Nothing at all. It was like my emotions had gone totally numb inside me, and I stood back and watched as my sisters crowded around him.
Time slowed, and my magick unfurled, simmering on low. I realized Broca was staring at me, not at my father.
“Put it away, Sloane,” Broca ordered, her voice quiet but firm.
“I’m trying,” I hissed, easing closer to Broca’s side.
My one constant.
“Try harder. Now is not the time.”
I’d been so good all weekend. Broca had taught me a spell to lock my magick away. At any times of stress, I’d recited it to myself, visualizing my magick as a glowing little ball locked away in a box. It had helped, and there hadn’t been a single mishap the whole weekend. I was proud of myself for that, but now, as I tried to hide from the pain of seeing my father again, the lock on that box of magick jiggled, threatening to fall open.
Nova, the youngest of us, hugged my father openly. Lyra and I had shielded her from the brunt of our parents’ fights, and she had a much shinier view of our father than I did. Lyra stood back, a welcoming smile on her face. At her heart, Lyra wanted to believe the best in everyone. I knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to give our father a chance to explain himself, at the very least.
I didn’t know what I felt.
Since coming back to Briarhaven, some of the shades had lifted on my memories. I now understood that my mother was a toxic and unreliable witch, one who leaned into the chaos of her magick. I also now understood that she and my father were a horrific match,and never should have been together long enough to conceive three children, let alone raise them into their teen years.
I was well aware of how I felt about my mother, but I still wasn’t sure where that left me with my father. Years of resentment had built inside me and were now clogging my throat. I stood with my arms crossed, studying the man who looked past my sisters to me.
If he’d wanted to, he would have.I reminded myself of this, hardening my heart against him. People either showed up or they didn’t, and he’d quite literally disappeared into the hills.
He’d aged, but we all had, and he was still a handsome man in his own right. Gray threaded his hair and beard, his eyes were the same shade as mine, now with lines tucked at the corners. He looked healthy enough, though a bit worn around the edges, and he held his cap in his hands.
“Sloane,” Dad said.
I shrugged one shoulder, not sure what to say.
“Well, then, Russell. Best to come in. I suspect you’ll have some explaining to do.”
I kept silent. It was a tool I’d learned years ago. People weren’t comfortable with silence, and often the best way to find out their true intentions was to remain quiet and let them speak.
Nova looked between me and him. Her face twisted.
“Are you going to push him away? When we’ve just found him again?” Her pain was real, and I turned to her.
“No,” I promised. I wanted to. I wanted to slam the door in his face. But it wasn’t my choice to make. My sisters were adults now, as they’d taken to reminding me, and I could shelter them no longer. They would need to make their own choices when it came to our father. I wouldn’t stand in their way. “Tea?”
“Ah, please.” Dad bobbed his head, and Broca waved him to the dining room table. He sat, Lyra and Nova across from him, while I put the kettle on.
