Page 132 of The Witch is Back

“And yet she didn’t tell you sooner,” his mom finished, demonstrating the eerie mind-reading thing singular to moms. She put down her mug, took his hand. Already it was a stronger grip. He linked their fingers as she said, “You know, it’s funny how we protect ourselves. For example, instead of staying to dissolve the contract, you ran away. Why do you think that is?”

“Because it was easier. Because I am selfish.”

His mom squeezed. “I think it’s because you couldn’t face the idea of a life without her, and you didn’t want to have to admit it.”

He made a few noises of dissent, unsure what to say.

“Answer me this: Are you happy that she’s ended the contract?”

“No,” he snapped, anger sweeping back over him like wildfire.

“Why not? Her family has caused you nothing but pain. She lied to you.”

“Only for her sister,” he pointed out. His foot tapped impatiently, but his mom still held his hand. “And she’d found a way to stop the Joining. Of course, she didn’t tell me that either until the last minute,” he muttered.

“So, why aren’t you happy?”

“Because we need to talk.” He scowled at the carpet. “I need to talk to her.”

“Why?”

He moved his scowl to his mom. “I care about her.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do!”

“There’s no need to shout.”

“I’m not shouting,” he shouted, then felt foolish. “Sorry. She just makes me insane. She always thinks she knows what’s best.”

“Reminds me of someone else.”

His scowl made a reappearance.

She smiled. “You say ‘of course’ you care, but she deceived you. Nobody would blame you if you couldn’t get over that.”

“It’s not that I can’t...understand. It’s why she didn’t tell me when we...” He broke off. Even he, a grown man, couldn’t discuss sex with his mom. “When we...got serious.” A muscle popped in his jaw. “I shared myself with her.”

“Sweet child.” She cupped his cheek with her spare hand. “You grew up in a home where you were nurtured. Your ideas and thoughts and opinions mattered. You learned to trust. Emma... I don’t think she had the same childhood.”

He thought of her mother, what Emma had shared. Something dark flirted inside him. “She didn’t.”

“So maybe trust doesn’t come easily to her. Maybe...” His mom cocked her head. “Maybe her first instinct is to hide and protect herself.”

“Why does she need to protect herself with me?”

His mom stroked his cheek before taking her hand away. “What greater threat is there than falling in love with someone who can’t love you back?”

It was like his mom had calmly flung a crushing curse at him. He struggled to breathe as he dropped her hand. He searched her face. “Why would you say that?”

“Over a century of loving and learning. I saw that young woman as she bared herself to us. She’s scared.”

“Of me.” The idea had ice forming in his gut, stabbing into his skin.

“Of you not loving her,” his mom corrected. Then, she threw him one more curveball. “I think she was right.”

“What?”

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