Page 78 of Hexed
The urge to tell her I’ll hunt him down is strong, but I don’t say it because maybe she doesn’t want that.
I would, though. Find him for her.
“My momma was a lot of things,” Venesa goes on. “She worked all day and was lost in a man who didn’t know how to love anyone but himself long before she ever had me. But she was still my momma, you know? And she did the best she could with the life she chose. I may not have ever been her first choice, but she was always mine.”
“No offense to your mom, but that’s really no excuse.”
She breathes out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, I guess it’s not.”
“Do you always let the people you love off the hook so easily for treating you like shit?”
It’s really a rhetorical question, because even in the short time I’ve known her, I can tell she does.Everyonein her life treats her as an afterthought.
She shrugs and then leans back on her elbows, her hair dusting against the sand as she looks up at the stars. “Maybe I do.”
I mimic her, lying back the same way. “Seems like it from where I’m standing.”
“You know I can’t cry?” she blurts.
“Like…you don’t want to?”
“No, like I physically can’t. Not for years now.”
“No shit?” My brows shoot to my hairline because I’ve never heard of someone not being able tocrybefore.
“Another thing I can thank my sperm donor for.” She chuckles softly again, but it’s not a joyful noise. “He used to hate it when I’d cry. He’d leave the room and drag in Momma, and then he’d beat her in front of me until she was black and blue. He wouldn’t let up untilIstopped crying.” She glances at me. “It’s amazing how fast you learn to shutter emotions when you’re protecting someone you love.”
I feel fucking sick, but I don’t know what to say. I have nothing I can tell her to take away the memories or to wipe away that haunted look on her face, but goddamn, I wish I did.
“Anyway.” She sits back up and brushes the sand from her arms. “I don’t know why I told you all that. I’ve never toldanyonethat, so if you open your mouth, I’ll have to murder you for real.”
She’s trying to joke, to make some of the heaviness drop away, and I get it. Sometimes when you open up old wounds, the weight of them makes you feel you’re sinking in quicksand. The humor is a way to drag yourself back out, to find a little hope when everything around you feels like it’s pushing you down.
“Hey, thanks for this.” I lean into her, bumping her shoulder with mine, the same way she did earlier. “It was fun being a kid, just for a bit.”
She beams at me, and the sight steals the fucking breath straight from my lungs. “Anytime. Friends, right?”
My heart spasms at the word, wanting to reject it before it can even take root, but I know what Iwantisn’t actually possible.
Not when I’ve already made commitments.
When I’m tethered to the will of my father and the debt of Aria saving my life.
It’s either marry her like my pops demands or die. Plain and simple, no point in sugarcoating it.
“Right,” I intone. “Friends.” The word tastes wrong. “I’ve never really had many of those,” I admit.
Venesa doesn’t reply at first, just brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, staring out at the water. “Me neither.”
She jumps up and tries to brush the sand off her, but she’s so wet from the ocean still, it clings to every crease and crevice of her clothes, sticking to her skin like glue.
I follow suit and then crack a grin. “You look like a drowned rat.”
She narrows her eyes and stomps off, and she’s so fucking cute, my stomach flips.
“At least let me buy you some dry clothes,” I say, jogging after her.
She bends down when she reaches the spot we left our shoes, and my eyes memorize the curve of her hip, the arch of her back, the gleam of her skin.
