Page 32 of Sold Rejected Mate
“What doesthatmean?”
For the first time, I tell someone else about my dad. About him leaving me in the woods, trying to get me to shift for the first time. Like throwing a baby in the water and thinking that might teach it to swim.
“I didn’t shift,” I say, “but I did accidentally kill a coyote with my magic. That’s when I first realized I had it.”
“Fuck,” Phina says, her elbows planted on the counter as she buries her face in her hands. “How have they not seen that this system causes so much more harm than good?”
I shrug, running the tip of my finger along the stainless-steel countertop, feeling a strange rush of endorphins at talking to her again. Having a friend like this, confiding in her. Being able to take something from inside me and place it somewhere else. Transferring the weight just for a minute.
Pushing off the counter, I pivot back, saying, “So you see why I can’t tell him. Right now, he likes me. He cares about me. Once he remembers who I really am, remembers what happened and what I did…” I swallow. “It will be over.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, Ido.” I pace over to the window. “And honestly, if he doesn’t remember me, what’s the reason to stay? You can help me get the magic under control, and this time, I’llreallyleave. Find somewhere else to start over.”
“Valerie—”
“I’m serious, Phina. This was always temporary. I didn’t even come back to Silverville on my own terms.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and when I turn to look at her, I find her studying me with those amber eyes. “You’re scared.”
“What?” I blurt. “No.”
“But not of him rejecting you,” she says slowly, nodding to herself like she’s confirming it’s true. “You’re scared that he might wantyou. That’s why you like stayingGreeninstead.”
It’s like a fist around my heart. What do I say to that? And why does it make my lungs feel like flattened, empty balloons?
“No,” I deny. “Not a chance.”
Phina relents, sighing. “That’s not the only reason I’m here. I thought we could work on your magic control.”
We move to the living room, Phina pulling an apple from her purse and setting it on the coffee table. Nora is sprawled on the couch with her tablet, occasionally glancing up to watch us with curious eyes.
“The key to control is intention. Your magic is wild because you’ve been fighting it instead of directing it. It’s liketrying to dam up a river with your bare hands instead of building channels to help you direct the flow.”
For an hour, under Phina’s instruction, I breathe. I close my eyes and focus. I clench and unclench my hands, trying to follow her cues in relaxing.
“All this is self-taught,” Phina murmurs at one point. “So it all just works for me. We might have to work to find something that works for you, too.”
As we work, I have to push thoughts about what she said out of my head. I keep trying to focus, but I can’t stop my brain from wandering back to it, the feeling that she’s right. The real danger is Lachlan wanting me, and me not knowing what to do with that.
I’ve never been wanted. I’ve never felt safe staying in one place. What would that be like? And am I even the kind of woman who could do something like that?
“Imagine collecting the magic in your hands,” Phina says. “Like water.”
It takes several tries, but I gradually manage to pool the magic in my palms. It feels warm and alive, tingling against my skin. My heart thrums with the fire that it might buck up at any moment, reaching out and setting Lachlan’s nice leather couch ablaze.
“Healing magic is a lot like water,” Phina says. “That’s why it feels like that in your hands. Focus on the apple.” She gestures to the bruised apple sitting on the coffee table. “See if you can repair its cells.”
I try and try, thinking about wholeness. Getting frustrated, I shake out my hands. I listen to her pep talks as the sun goes down around us.
Then, at some point, the magic starts to feel more like warm honey.
And, impossibly, the deep bruise on the apple begins to fade. The skin smooths, and I watch as it inflates, becoming whole again. It looks like an apple that was just picked from the tree.
“Holyshit,” I breathe. I can’t believe I actually did it—I managed to make something better instead of worse.
Maybe even for the first time in my entire life.
