Page 4 of Spellbound & Speechless
Rowan missing me is shocking, and her vocalizing it is as well. She’s the quietest among us and often the least emotional. I nearly recoil at the words.
“I—” What am I supposed to say?
“I want to know why you came back without telling us. You must realize how messed up that is.”
My throat is dry and scratchy. “I… do.”
“Then why?”
There’s nothing I can do to get out of this. No flash of a smile, no illusion of Aphrodite. Nothing. Rowan asks for the truth, and I must give it to her.
“I wasn’t ready to see you yet,” I say. “Any of you. I’m sorry.”
Her expression softens by a fraction. “Why not? We would be happy to see you.”
“I know.” I let out a choked laugh. Why are we having this conversation in a grocery store? “That’s the problem. I let you down?—”
“Stop.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s silly. You didn’t.”
“I should have. You should all be angry with me. I’ve been ignoring you, and I’m not ignorant of it.”
“Aspen. Come on. You’ve been grieving, just like the rest of us.”
When has Rowan ever been the sort to cut someone slack—even me? Everything is changing.
“But you’re grievingtogether. It’s different.”
It’s my fault for pushing them away, but I can’t erase the bitterness in my voice. I’ve been alone in a tall, cold tower of my making. Why would they accept me back into our warm family home?
“Do you think that’s been easier for me?” She shakes her head. “Gods. We’re getting off topic. How long have you been here?”
Rowan won’t like the answer, but I can’t lie to her.
“Just a few days,” I murmur.
Her features remain blank. Unreadable, as always. “And where are you staying? The motel?”
I nod. Not a single word comes from my tight throat.
“When are you coming home, Aspen?”
That’s the question I’ve been asking myself since our mother passed. I came home for the funeral, and again for significant holidays, but I couldn’t stand being around any longer than a few days.
“I don’t know…” I stare at the bottle of oat milk in my cart, as if it contains the answers I’ve been searching for.
There’s no avoiding home now that Rowan has seen me. I can’t ask her to keep me a secret from our sisters, and the longer I stay away, the more upset they’ll be. Contrary to what they may think, I still care about them.
I love them, even if I’ve been loving them from afar, and I don’t want them to hate me.
Rowan steps closer and, when her hand lands on my shoulder, I nearly jump. The rest of the family are huggers, especially Maple, but Rowan is not. She has never been.
She squeezes my shoulder. This is her version of a hug, and it’s rare. The knot in my chest detangles as I exhale.
“I think you should come now,” she says. “Everyone misses you. You don’t need to stay away.”
If I go into that old home for a moment, there’s no saying what will happen. Maybe I’ll want to stay, or perhaps I’ll want to run. Maybe I’ll be so overwhelmed by our late mother’s memory that I combust into a pile of ash.
There’s no way to know until I go.
