Page 55 of De-Witched

Newsflash. The feelings flowing through her were all kinds of wrong. Still, she didn’t move away. “C’mon, you clearly hate it here. Away from everyone—away from your sister. You told me you miss her. Power-hungry people don’t care about that.”

“That’s naïve.” A fine thread of hesitation spun out. “But...she is a large part of the reason I’m here.”

What would that be like, she wondered, tracing his face. To be one of the few people Gabriel Goodnight cared for? “Do you talk while you’re here?”

“Often.”

“You’re close.” She heard the wistful note in her own voice.

“Yes. It’s just us two.” He twisted toward her, mirroring again. “You don’t have a sibling?”

She shook her head, then paused. “Well, my dad has another daughter and son by his second marriage, but we don’t really hang out.”

“Why?”

“They’re not...we’re not family. It’s awkward. I don’t really see my dad much, not enough to claim them as brother and sister. He calls every few months, we endure conversation until the next time.” She passed a hand through her curls, discomfort rolling through her. “It’s just me and my mom. And now her new husband.”

He was fully focused on her and she wasn’t sure she enjoyed it. “She’s recently wed?”

“Sort of. They’re on an extended honeymoon, so they’ve been traveling for a while.”

“You don’t like him.”

“What? No.” She rejected that with a wave of her hand. “I mean, yes. He’s great for her. They’re a good match.”

“And now you’re alone.”

“I have my babies,” she countered, not liking the hitch the words put into her voice. “I have Tia and Emma. My housemate, Peggy. And my mom will come back at some point. We’ve always been close.”

“You said your father left her.”

She didn’t like this topic. “How about some coffee?” When she went to walk away, he caught her hand.

“I’m sorry.” Sincerity rang in the words. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. Yes, he left her, us.” She didn’t move her gaze away from their hands. Such a simple, strong support. “It was hard, but we got over it. We had each other.”

“You looked after her when it first happened. You mentioned it,” he explained at her surprised glance.

“Yes.”

“How old?”

“Fifteen.”

He was quiet, the only sound the soft snores of the dogs and the crackle of the fire.

His silence prompted her to speak. “I didn’t mind stepping up. She needed me and I like being useful, always have. I don’t hold it against her.”

“How long?”

Too long. In her mind, Leah’s mind picked over the memories of pleading with her mom to open the door, to get out of bed, to be with her. Shut out in more ways than one. “A while.”

When he looked at her like that, it felt like he could see the reasons why, what prompted her to crave people, their voices, their smiles, their friendship.

Always feeling like she was on the other side of that door, pleading to get in.

She swallowed. “In a way, she led me to the shelter. Having that place, my place, to go when everything felt...too much? It would’ve been a lot harder without it.”

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