Page 54 of Beyond the Cottage

“Forget it,” he said. “This was a shit idea, I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“Iwantto be here, I just… I guess I didn’t expect my reaction. I haven’t been touched by one of them since the Eater.”

He moved closer. “Your reaction is fucking fine, but there’s no way in hell I’m putting you through that again.”

Gretta covered her forehead with a palm. As her chest loosened further, humiliation seeped in. Hyperventilating in a witch’s front yard wasn’t her finest moment.

“I look like an idiot,” she said.

“You don’t, I’m the idiot. I forgot I’ve had more time to process being familiar with one of them.”

“Okay, but I don’t want to go yet. Seriously, I’m better now.”

His jaw worked. He put two fingers against the pulse in her neck and tipped her chin up to study her pupils. Appearing satisfied with what he saw, he let her go and pensively looked at the cabin.

“Ansel, I’m sure about this. You have no idea how hard I worked to get here.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea. For you or Isobel. I’m not putting the bracelet back on you, which means—”

“I won’t harm her. I just want to ask questions.”

His indecision grated, but she supposed she couldn’t blame him. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned her profession?

“Listen,” she said. “I get it. But if I’m going to trust the things you said before, you have to trust me, too. If nothing else, believe I wouldn’t want to deal with you after I assaulted your friend.”

He snorted. To drive the point home, Gretta sent a half-hearted wave to Isobel, who fretfully watched from the porch.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to trust you.”

“Lovely.” Gretta straightened her ponytail and marched to the cabin. Her emotional breakdown must have worked something out of her system because she felt much pluckier than before.

As Gretta climbed the stairs with Ansel at her heels, Isobel’s knobby hand flattened on her heart. “Is everything alright, honey?”

“Fine,” Gretta said.

“Give her space, Izz. She’s mistrustful of your kind.”

Isobel’s eyes briefly closed. “Yes, ofcourse. I’m a thoughtless old fool, forgive me. I can’t imagine what business you have with me, Gretta, but you can ask any questions you like. Please, won’t you both come inside?” She held the door open, giving them a wide berth.

Still embarrassed and bristling at their concern, Gretta lifted her chin and entered the cabin.

Chapter 20

Hands fisted at his sides, Ansel followed the women inside. He was a moron. He’d expected Gretta’s hostility, but he hadn’t anticipated her fear.

He should have. While she possessed courage and confidence in spades, he knew she hadn’t fully processed what happened to them as children. Her panic seemed to have subdued, and he maintained there would have been no holding her back from this visit, but he could have at least taken it slower, eased her in.

As they entered the kitchen, Gretta’s eyes darted around the sunny, clapboard room. When they narrowed at Isobel’s little pot-bellied stove, Ansel resisted the urge to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back to the boat.

Isobel pulled three chipped cups off a shelf and set her kettle on the stove. “How do you take your tea, Gretta?”

“I don’t drink tea. One of your sisters used to sweeten her chamomile with our tears, and I guess I lost my taste for it.”

“That bitch wasn’t my sister, honey. But no tea all the same. How about a nice cup of dandelion wine?”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“It’s in that cupboard if you change your mind.” Abandoning the tea, Isobel busied herself with arranging cookies on a plate.

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