Page 30 of Cursed Wolfsbane

I tilt my head, wondering how they knew. “Why?”

“Because we were always super close from the moment you were born. I would demand to go over to your house every day after school to hold you as a newborn. You would calm down instantly in my arms as a baby. We also loved playing together as kids, even though we’re nine years apart. I always preferred spending time with you—even if you made me dress as a fairy princess—over hanging out with any of my friends.” Saint flashes me a grin at those memories. “Our parents figured out pretty quickly we were mates but didn’t say anything to me until I turned sixteen.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks at all the times I made Saint wear a dress and play pretend with me. Then I realize the timeline. We left only seven months after Saint’s sixteenth birthday. “Oh, Saint, I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “You lost your parents and your mate in the span of a few months.”

He gives me a sad smile. “Yeah. It was… hard. But I made it through, so there’s nothing for you to feel bad about. Your mom told me you both were leaving for a while, but she assured me you’d find your way back to me when the time was right. And here you are.”

“Here I am,” I repeat, staring into the gray eyes I can’t believe I forgot. I hear a sniffle behind me. Twisting around, I see Emmy wiping tears from her eyes as she watches us.

“Someone else missed you too, little shadow,” Saint whispers.

I get pulled into another memory, hoping Saint won’t let me fall while I’m in it.

“Wanna trade?” a younger Emmy asks as she shuts her Nancy Drew book. I’d estimate she’s around seven in this memory. She turns her head to look at me, and I face her. We’re lying on the ground with our legs propped up on an old weeping willow tree trunk. Her red curls are fanned out around her head like a fiery halo.

“Yep!” I give her my Hardy Boys book and take hers instead. We both love reading, so we spend every day after school in one of our backyards reading together. Saint will often join us, but he has basketball practice tonight.

“Emmeline Violette Ward! I can’t believe you!” a woman yells. I hear footsteps pounding closer to us as I push up from the ground.

“Oh boy,” Emmy mutters before sitting up. We both turn to face the woman who I remember is Emmy’s mom and my aunt. She’s the same woman who portaled Xander back to the Wyldhart mansion when he got shot. Her red hair is flying behind her as she stomps toward us.

“Do you want to explain to me why I got a call from the principal?” Emmy’s mom demands.

“Nope.” Emmy crosses her arms and defiantly stares down her mom.

“Fine. Then explain why you didn’t tell me you got suspended for punching Lauren O’Connor today?” Aunt Molly puts her hands on her hips and frowns disapprovingly at Emmy.

I turn wide eyes to my cousin. “You punched her? That’s why you left school early?”

“Of course I did, Bri. She called your mom a mangy cur and said she cheated on your dad to have you. I told her next time she talks bad about you, she’ll walk away with more than a black eye.”

I tackle Emmy in a hug for standing up for me. She laughs and tightly hugs me back. I know I can always count on Em to have my back.

I get teased a lot for Mama being a wolf shifter. She’s the best mama there is, but mages hate other supernatural species. No one believes Papa’s my real dad since two different magic races shouldn’t be able to have kids together. Mama tells me I’m just a special case and not to listen to them. Most days I don’t, but today I cried after Lauren was mean about Mama.

Aunt Molly sighs. “I guess I can’t be mad at you, now can I, Emmy?”

Emmy grins up at her mom and pulls away from my hug.

“Aunt Evie brought fresh baked brownies. You girls should get them while they’re still hot.”

Em stands up and offers me a hand. I grab it, and she pulls me to my feet. We take off at a sprint, still holding hands and giggling the whole way.

As I leave the memory, I’m flooded with so many others of my built-in best friend, like us having sleepovers and staying up all night reading, racing around the neighborhood on our bikes, and exploring the woods behind our houses for hours. Emmyand I are the same age, so we did almost everything together growing up. Saint, Emmy, and I were the three musketeers, always together and always getting into trouble.

Emmy was fiercely protective of me at school. She was often in trouble for trying to defend me.

Wiggling in Saint’s arms, I try to get out of his arms on my own. He gives me a smile before setting me down. I turn around and spot Emmy standing behind Nan. I run at her and tackle her in a hug. She laughs, the sound roughened by her earlier tears.

“I missed you, Em,” I tell her as I hug her tightly. It feels like that’s all I’ve been saying since I took the potion, but it’s true. I did miss everyone before I lost my memories. Even without my memories, I still subconsciously missed them all. I had an aching loneliness that never went away, even when I was surrounded by other people. My heart never forgot, even when my mind did.

“I missed you, too, Bri,” Emmy tells me, her voice choked up. “Things were never the same without you, Aunt Evie, and Uncle Connor.”

After holding her for another long moment, I step back. It’s weird hugging Emmy after all these years. When I left, we were both about the same height. Now, she’s about four inches shorter than me. Emmy still has her signature wild red hair, defiant hazel eyes, and freckles smattered across her face, though.

My heart feels simultaneously full and heavy from all the memories. I’m not alone like I’ve thought since Mama died. I have people who care about me and have missed me, but I’ve also lost two of the most important people in my life.

I also never fully got to grieve losing my dad. We had to move across the country only a couple months after Papa died, turning my whole world upside down. Patrick blackmailed Mama, threatening to expose me as Dido’s reincarnation. Mama married him and moved across the country to keep me safe.Patrick banned all mention of my dad. He would shove Mama around if I ever tried to talk about Papa. I just stuffed down the heartache and tried to forget about it most days.

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