Page 28 of Calling Quarters

So, he filled it.

This fiery, jealous, raging monster.

At first, I was afraid to acknowledge him. I thought if I ignored him, he'd shrink away to nothing and disappear into the darkness inside my mind with the rest of the parts of me I was taught shouldn't see the light of day.

It wasn't until I befriended my monster that I gained clarity.

I saw my oppression for exactly what it was, and I would become a threat to everyone who wanted to keep me under their thumbs.

They had no idea how dangerous I'd become when I had nothing left to lose. If anything, what happened between me and Remy on the beach solidified that. Because we were very clearly connected in a way that no one wanted to admit—myself included. I was realizing that maybe that connection was more significant than I could have ever imagined.

He kissed me and I was drowned in the sensation of it—painful at first, then blissfully perfect. I felt like I'd been injected with the sun's bright and beautiful rays, full of heat and energy and power.

It was all I could do not to hand myself over to him right there on the beach. To succumb to whatever pain or pleasure he intended to offer me. I had a feeling he'd have me begging for mercy either way.

But something had me step back and put distance between us. A nagging feeling in my gut screamed that it was too soon. I didn't have the full picture yet, and without it, Remy was nothing but a threat to me.

Once again, my feet took me back to my car without a single word and I was driving in the opposite direction down the same winding dirt road that took me to him.

No one could know about this. On the drive back to the hotel, I promised myself that I would take what happened between us and every emotion it conjured up to my grave.

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Hazel stopped me the next day to have lunch. I’d nearly skipped going back into town altogether, opting instead to hole up in my room and process what has happened over these past few weeks. It felt like the world spun a little differently on its axis since the first time I drove down these sleepy streets, and I needed time to plan my next move.

I was feeling paranoid from my exhausting interaction with Remy and the tension that was radiating off Blaire and Tabitha from losing so many guests over Mabon being canceled. The chance of running into any of them made my stomach turn. But once I poured myself a thick cup of muddied coffee from the stash Tabitha supplied in all the guest rooms, I couldn't resist. I needed sustenance and caffeine.

When Hazel stopped and offered lunch, the need to know more about my mother outweighed any other fears and frustrations I had about everything else.

“It's really too bad that this was your first Mabon here. It's usually a great time. You'll see next year, though.”

We sat down at one of the tall tables beside the front window of The Grind. It was unusually empty for the time of day, but I was grateful for the privacy their lack of business afforded us.

The entire town seemed to be stuck in a glum mood since the Mabon ceremony, though Hazel’s spirits remained high.

“I'm not sure I'll be here next year,” I confessed sheepishly. I don't know why I felt so embarrassed by that admission, but her surprised expression didn't help me feel any better.

I felt even worse when her hand reached across the table to cover mine. “Beacon Grove will always be your hometown, Storie. Even when your living relatives have all died away. You're always welcome.”

I offered a small, awkward smile. It sure didn't feel that way to me, but I chose to focus on something else she said instead of dwelling on my insecurities. “I thought all the Graves have passed on.”

“Oh, they have. Your maternal grandmother is still alive, though. Gods, Lunet has got to be pushing ninety now,” she mused, unaware that her words sent my heart crashing into my ribcage and blood rushing into my cheeks.

Ididhave family here.

How had I gotten so distracted with my father's side that I'd forgotten my mother was from Beacon Grove as well?

“I would love to meet her,” I rushed out, cutting off her rambling thoughts.

“Of course! I'm surprised you haven't yet. I'll write down her information. She's a little out of it these days, so it's probably best to call and talk to her nurse before dropping in.”

She rifled through her colorful, patchwork purse until she found a pen, then flipped over one of her business cards and scribbled an address and phone number on the back.

“I also brought some pictures of your mom. I couldn't resist looking through my old albums after I saw you at the festival. You remind me so much of Bonnie when we were your age.”

Her hands disappeared into the endless bag again and pulled out a black envelope that she slipped a stack of polaroids from. One by one, she set them on the table before me and pointed to the same freckle-faced, pale woman with white hair and glowing, purple eyes.

It was the first time I'd ever seen my mother's face. Until now, I could only rely on the image I made up of her in my head. Aunt Ash said she and my dad left town with the clothes on their backs after I was born, so there weren't any photos of family lying around that weren't taken after we all made it to the city. Like most things, she and Dad never explained the situation surrounding their departure. I only knew that it was desperate and rushed.

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