Page 86 of Whispers of Wisteria
“Does it matter?” My voice was rough, but she didn’t seem bothered.
“No,” she said. She rested her cheek on her knee. “But that was the first time I ever heard you with an accent.”
Damn it. Why did we have to talk aboutthis? “Miles has an accent.”
“I know.” The cloud in her eyes faded. “But he’s never tried to hide it. I like it; it’s cute.”
She wasinterestedin this subject.
Fuck my life.
“What’s cute?” I was being snippy, but she had no idea. Nothing about Marshall was ‘cute.’
“Youraccent,” she clarified. “Your mom doesn’t have one.”
She still looked at me in that unnerving way, and her mouth twisted. I had to give her something, or she’d probably come up with some outlandish theory.
I did not want this to be at the mercy of her imagination.
There was nothing remotely romantic about that part of my life.
“My mom doesn’t have one because she grew up here. She went to medical school in Houston, then… stayed with my dad. She wasn’t there long enough for it to stick,” I sighed. I looked down at the water. I didn’t even bother to try to hide it now. “Anthony and I were born there, though. Grew up there awhile, then went back and forth later. Ended up stayin’ with my mom.”
“Oh,” was her quiet reply.
And it was probably enough—she didn’t often ask questions, so I knew she wouldn’t pry further.
But the dam in my chest threatened to break, and something needed to give.
I guess it didn’t matter. There’d only been one person, ever, who I could talk to. I relaxed, crossed my legs, and slumped forward. I rested my hands over my knees as I continued.
“The Reeds are an old ranching family. My dad’s a cowboy when he wants and a politician when it pays better,” I told her. “But he’s an asshole all the time.”
She rested her head against my arm. “Is he a necromancer too?”
“Yes…” I didn’t see where she was going with this. “The Reeds are well-known necromancers. They are one of the Great Necromancer Legions.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Necromancers are organized into groups called Legions,” I explained. “Each has a different name and is family-led. The three largest Legions each hold a seat on the Council. They’re Kohler, Reed, an’ Graves.”
There was a slight pause, and I wasn’t sure which part held her attention. However, she soon decided, “But acowboynecromancer?”
She was watching me with the utmost sincerity. “Yes…” I said again.
Her forehead wrinkled, and she appeared to be seriously contemplating something.
“It’s nothing like you’re imagining,” I warned her, not even needing to know the details. “Marshall is trash. Mom got out early. Anthony and I followed later. Changed our name as soon as we could. He didn’t fight it. We haven’t seen him since. Pops would kill him if he showed now.”
My grandfather had never liked him to start…
I paused, breathing in. Now, back to the topic at hand. “I’ve worked very hard to lose this accent. I’m sorry you had to hear it.”
“I’m not.” She snuggled closer. “It’s a part of who you are, and it’s not bad—becauseyou’renot bad. That’s why you talk so slowly, right?”
My chest lurched, but she wasn’t wrong. “Right.”
“I get it.” Bianca began to pick at the blanket. “I have a stutter.”
