Page 104 of De-Witched

A hard ball was stuck in his throat. It made breathing difficult. “I was eighteen. They’d been visiting with a human hospital in South America and a rebel band stormed through. They were shot.”

Her face went white. So did her fingers around the cushion. “Gabriel. I’m... I don’t know what to say.”

“Melly was only two,” he said softly, turning to watch the lights across the way. “She barely remembers them, but I know they’d be proud of her.”

“They’d be proud of you, too.”

“I promised myself they would be.” He counted the lights. “I swore I’d live up to their expectation. Even to the point of coming here and mopping floors in an animal shelter.”

He sensed her before her hand slid into his. Unsure, he looked down where their fingers interlinked before looking back at her. Her expression was fierce.

“You’re not a disappointment,” she told him.

“I caused them pain when I didn’t live up to my potential.”

She made a noise. “You were a kid. You’re allowed to make mistakes, decide who you are. They should’ve let you, not focused more on a cause than their child.” Her eyes suddenly rounded. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to badmouth your parents. It’s just... I didn’t get to be a free teenager, either. My mom and all. Kids should have a childhood, you know? To be reckless or wild or whatever.”

“Hence your corruption of Melly.” But her words chimed against something cold and hard he’d harbored for years.

She squeezed his hand. “You’re a great brother. A great son. A passable lover.” The droll look he sent her made her laugh. “And for what it’s worth, I think anyone with that much expectation piled on them would have rebelled more than you did. A few pranks?” She puffed out a breath. “Please. What matters is that you grew into the man you are. And a disappointment he isn’t.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth. Kissed her knuckles. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure he fully believed her, but it meant something that she believed it. And she did; every word shone in her eyes. It prompted him to admit softly, “I’ve never felt good enough either.”

That truth tangled them together like strings that would never be unknotted.

She watched him with those eyes, deep, drowning blue. “Thank you for letting me in.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her small laugh settled inside him. He adjusted his grip and backed toward the entrance to the apartment. “It’s still early. Stay with me tonight?”

“I’ll need to go grab the dogs.”

He sighed, more for form than anything else. “Only for you.”

23

Leah idly swished a cloth over the clean bar, eyeing Gabriel, who sat in a booth with Bastian and Henry. It was karaoke night, Lord help them all, and a man clutching a beer bottle swayed along to his choice of Take That’s “A Million Love Songs.” None of the men even looked up from their conversation.

What were they talking about? Potions, spells, society gossip? Bastian and Gabriel weren’t exactly similar, while Henry seemed to be a chameleon, able to slip into whatever skin suited his purposes best.

“What do you suppose that’s about?” Leah posed the question to Emma as her friend built a Witch’s Heart for a customer. The blackberry liqueur shimmered in the martini glass, topped by a dramatic smoking mist.

Emma handed the drink to the customer, accepting the money before running a harried hand through her hair. “What?” She followed Leah’s pointed gaze, winced. “Henry’s here again?”

“Pretty sure he’s got Tia bugged. He seems to know exactly when she’s not around.” Leah smiled automatically at another customer and dropped the cloth to pour two large glasses of red wine. Transaction complete, she got back to eyeballing the men. “You haven’t told her he’s been in?”

“It hasn’t come up.”

“Same.” Leah tapped her fingers. “Are we bad friends?”

“Probably.”

“Should we kick him out?”

“Probably.”

Leah grimaced. “You’re sure she’d have a problem with him being here?”

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