Page 160 of Roaring Flames

“Do you think we can make this work?” Reid’s voice is gruff, almost nonchalant, but his eyes spark with…hope, with a type of vulnerability I can’t remember seeing from the growly, angry man before.

“Yeah.” I lick my dry upper lip. “We can.”

As long as we can survive today, that is.

Fifty-Seven

ANSEL

“Mom, I have some tea for you,” I say, wrapping my hands around the steaming cup.

She sits at the kitchen table, dressed in a drab gray sweater and black pajama pants. Her raven-black hair is a rat’s nest on the top of her head, and her brown, almond-shaped eyes are underscored by dark circles.

Still, she takes the cup of tea with a grateful smile and shakily brings it to her lips.

“I added a little bit of sugar, a little bit of honey, and a little bit of milk,” I tell her, quoting her normal order verbatim.

“You’re a sweet boy.” Her smile falters a little bit at the edges as she focuses on the liquid. The water has just begun to turn brown. “I’m sorry you have to take care of me like this. It should be my job as your mother?—”

“Mom,” I interrupt, offering her a tight smile. “You’re doing amazing.”

A tiny bit of color enters her cheeks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She seems pleased and returns her attention back to her mug and crossword puzzle. I unzip my backpack and begin grabbing out my homework assignments for the weekend.

This has been our normal Saturday routine for…well, for as long as I can remember. Saturday is the one day that Shelby has off, so I usually spend that time with my mom.

We watch cartoons in the morning, the way we used to when I was a kid and Dad was alive, then I make us a huge brunch. Mom usually naps after that while I get some chores done around the house. When she wakes up, I make her a cup of tea, and we’ll both sit at the kitchen table. My mom will complete her crossword puzzles, and I’ll do my homework.

As I begin my chemistry assignment, I can’t help but wonder what Izzy is up to. I feel like things have been strained between us since the truth about me was revealed—and I also feel like I’m to blame for that. I needed space to wrap my head around everything. Still do, if I’m being completely honest.

I’m a warlock.

That means my birth parents were warlocks as well.

Are they still alive?

Do they live here?

Do my parents know?

Some of their cryptic comments over the years jump to the forefront of my mind, clawing at me.

I slide my gaze in Mom’s direction. She’s smiling serenely down at her little book of crosswords, humming something indistinguishable under her breath. Today’s one of her good days. Do I dare ruin that with my questions? Yet…

Who knows when she’ll be coherent enough to sit down and have a conversation with me?

My heart beats incredibly fast, pounding against my rib cage, as I set my pencil down and clear my throat. “Mom?”

“Yes, baby?” She glances up and brushes at a greasy strand of hair.

I make a mental note to have Shelby help her shower tomorrow. That is just one thing I refuse to do.

“Can I ask you some questions?” I venture tentatively, chewing on my lower lip. “And I don’t want you freaking out.”

My mother stares at me, wariness chasing away her initial concern. She settles back in the rickety wooden chair and crosses her arms over her chest. They’re incredibly bony, almost unhealthily so. My heart pinches at the sight.

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