Page 89 of Big Little Spells

Maybe, a voice whispers deep inside me as I fall faster and faster, this is a good thing.

I close my eyes. I spread my arms wider. I brace for impact, and with it, a little oblivion. That’s what I really want.

That’s what I’ve always wanted.

I brace myself, but I do not crash into the ground.

My wild descent stops, cushioned by something warm and soft. Like a cradle. I feel wrapped up. Held. Then I begin to move again, but more gently this time.

I open my eyes to see Nicholas standing there on the bank of the river. He’s stopped my fall. His magic surrounds me, lowering me with a kindness that makes me want to cry—and then maybe slug him.

Especially when that cradle of magic delivers me into his arms. He holds me to his chest. More than anything, I want to nestle into him, press my face to the crook of his neck—but I don’t.

I’m afraid if I start something like that I won’t stop. He knows everything I’ve done. He knew that night, but he turned his back on me then.

He says nothing as he looks at me. As he sees into me. Then, carefully, he sets me on my feet.

I have the strangest notion that the breeze from the river might blow me away, but his hands curl over my shoulders and keep me still. Keep me safe, I think.

But not because he caught me.

Because he’s known the truth about me all along. And maybe he once turned his back on me, but I’ve never had to hide. Not from Nicholas.

“I’m going back to Sedona,” I blurt out. Because not hiding sounds...dangerous.

Nothing in his expression changes. But his hands fall and he steps back.

“This is a surprise, witchling.” His voice is bored. His face is hard. It’s like being shoved back in time, with whiplash. This is not my lover. This is not the man I’ve found underneath all those walls he’s had centuries to build.

This is the forbidding, disapproving ancient I’ve hated all along.

Which is good. “I don’t see why it’s a surprise. I don’t belong here. It was a valiant effort, all in all, but in the end I’m the same fuckup I always was. And it was better when I was—”

“Hiding from the consequences of your actions?” he interrupts, still sounding bored.

But his eyes flash.

So does my temper. He doesn’t understand. I lost control ten years ago. And in letting my emotions take over, I behaved exactly like the people we’re fighting against now. I struck out to cause pain, to get revenge, and I didn’t care who I hurt.

I might as well have been auditioning to join the Joywood.

My parents were appalled at the spectacle. At what it said about our family that I would take failing the pubertatum so badly. That I would prove, beyond any doubt, that there was actually something worse than a Wilde with no power at all.

But my grandmother was disappointed in me. In who I was that I could do such a thing. In who I became when faced with adversity. In what that said about me.

And that’s what I lost tonight. Not the people who already think I’m a loose cannon, an embarrassment. But the people who not only love me, but who I fooled into thinking I was like them. One of the good guys.

I want to fight with Nicholas because he’s never been anything as simple as good or bad. I want to fight with him because I want to fight.

And because I can’t hurt him. He’s too powerful, too ancient, too well-trained over too many centuries.

Safe, in other words. For me, he’s always been safe.

But I decide I don’t deserve that either. Not tonight. My temper is just another hit of a drug, one I want to use to hide. To make myself feel better. I can’t allow it.

I force it back down. I say nothing, even though he’s basically just called me a coward. The thing is, he’s right.

His dark blue gaze narrows. “It is your choice, of course.”

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