Page 15 of It's In His Hiss

My parents watch me, wide-eyed, as I straighten my spine.

“I’m going to learn everything I can. About me. About the magic you tried to bury.”

Dad opens his mouth like he wants to argue but—doesn’t. He simply nods, quietly resigned.

Gordy’s thumb brushes over my knuckles. “Looks like the Hawthorne magic isn’t going dormant this time.”

I smile, though there’s nothing light in it. “No. It’s waking up. And I’m not afraid of it.”

“We did what we thought was best for you,” Dad insists, but the conviction in his voice has waned.

“Best for me? Or easiest for you?” I demand, all my built-up resentment bubbling to the surface. “I needed guidance, not a cover-up.”

“Al.” Mom reaches out.

I move back, feeling like the walls are closing in on me. “Let’s go, Gordy,” I say, more to escape than anything else.

He nods in understanding and follows me out without a word.

The door slams behind us, echoing my heart’s turmoil.

Chapter 7

Alice

Gordy guides me to his Mini Cooper, which suddenly feels like a sanctuary compared to the house I no longer recognize.

“Drive,” I manage to say, my voice a mere whisper.

He doesn’t ask where. He just starts the engine and takes off.

His hand finds mine again, and I cling to it like a lifeline as we navigate the dark streets. The drive to my apartment is silent except for our intertwined fingers speaking volumes.

My thoughts are a tangled mess as we pull up outside my building. Gordy and I exit the car and walk through the dimly lit hallway to my apartmentdoor. The silence feels heavy, but his presence is a balm that soothes the raw edges of my emotions.

I put the kettle on, feeling his gaze follow my every move as I pop tea bags into two mugs. Every nerve ending seems to hum with awareness of him. He’s close behind me when I turn around, so close that the heat radiates off his body and into mine.

“Al,” he murmurs, his shortened version of my name holding more weight than any speech.

“Yeah?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Are you okay?” It’s a simple question, but his concern wraps around me like a warm blanket.

“Define okay.” I try to smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace.

“Fair point.” He steps even closer, and I’m caught in the hypnotic pull of his green eyes, which seem to shimmer with something I can’t quite define. He catches my wrist gently, stalling my movements. “Al.” His voice is low, careful.

I drop my gaze to the floor because I know if I don’t, I’ll break.

“Talk to me,” he says.

I let out ashakybreath. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Gordy squeezes my hand. “Then let me help.”

And just like that, my walls crack.

I don’t cry—not exactly. But my shoulders shake, and before I know it,Gordy pulls me into his chest.

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