Page 84 of Unhinged Magic
As if finally realizing her rudeness, she bristled. “Oh!” she motioned inside, please come in.”
We followed her into the house that seemed much too large for her now that Dad had passed, but she refused to leave the place that held the memories closest to her heart. I noted the photos on the mantle above the fire as she led us into the living area, my gaze lingering on one of my parents. They looked happy, him and Mom staring straight at the camera, their smiles wide, with not a care in the world.
I realized the photo was taken before Landon and I were born. Before it all changed.
Mom’s voice broke my thoughts. “It’s nice to see you two have been,” she arched a brow, “reacquainted after all these years.”
I turned away from the mantlepiece, facing the room again. “Girlfriend.” I cleared my throat, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Skye’s my girlfriend, Mom.”
She glanced between us both, a hand lingering on her chest. “Oh, how lovely.” She turned to Skye once more. “Can I get you some tea, dear?”
Fucking hell.
Skye buried her hands in the pockets of the long coat she wore. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
As Mom turned to the kitchen, she stole a glance in my direction, giving me the discrete 'look.' I ignored it, unable to entertain her thoughts right now. I had to find Landon’s death notice.
Leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, I noted the same brown cabinets wrapping around the original tiled counter. The place hadn’t changed one bit since I left.
Mom pulled two teacups from the cabinet above her, motioning to one. “Would you like some?”
I shook my head. “No thanks, I’m good.”
Placing the teacups on the counter, she eyed me suspiciously. “Wesley, what are you up to?”
I motioned upstairs. “I’m looking for an old photo album. Are they still in the spare room?”
Mom’s brows furrowed. “Same place as always, in the wardrobe.”
That didn’t surprise me in the least.
Shrugging, I kept my expression blank. “I wanted to find some photos of Skye and me when we were younger is all.”
Mom seemed convinced by my answer. A quick bob of her head and she started filling the cups with tea.
Ducking my head around the corner to the lounge again, I found Skye nestled in an armchair, her fingers running over its dated fabric. I silently motioned upstairs, and she nodded back.
Upstairs, I veered right, past the door of the spare room, slipping silently into Mom and Dad’s instead. My chest tightened as I eyed the wooden box sitting on top of her set ofdrawers. I hated being in her personal space, and a twinge of guilt wrapped around my heart at my invasion of her privacy. Staring at the inconspicuous box, I couldn’t believe it was still there. After all this time, it sat where it always had, a shrine disguised as something that looked as if it held jewelry.
Pacing over to it, I lifted the lid, its contents stilling me for a quiet moment. A small green t-shirt covered in dinosaurs lay, neatly folded. I didn’t remember it, but it must have been his favorite for Mom to keep it. I carefully moved around a few photos, picking up one of us both. We were identical, to the point I struggled to tell us apart, until I noticed a stuffed bear with two buttons as eyes tucked underneath Landon’s hand. His free arm was around me, mine clutching my favorite toy truck. We smiled at the camera, all teeth and wide, green eyes. Even at that age, which was possibly four at the most, I bet those smiles got us out of a lot of trouble.
Us.How could one word screw with my head so much?
Placing the photo back in the box, I spied exactly what I was looking for. Landon’s death notice. The moment my fingers touched the small square of newsprint, my vision morphed, a memory so clear it chilled my very bones to the marrow: a child’s scream sliced through my senses like a knife through my heart.
I doubled back, gripping the edge of the drawers as it dissipated just as suddenly, the real world coming into focus again.
Fuck.
I shoved the paper clipping into my jacket pocket, hanging my head low, unable to comprehend what I had just seen. It had to be real. A memory. Realization hit me like a sledgehammer to the back of my knees, and I almost buckled under the weight of what I assumed I’d blocked out my entire life. My fingers paled, expanding with each tremor that tore through them. I stared at them numbly, disbelief crippling me.
I lifted my gaze to a mirror in front of me. A stranger stared back.
Impaled with despair, the reflection told a haunted tale of its own. One I wasn’t sure I could live with.
Ripping my focus from the mirror, I left the bedroom, sliding the wardrobe in the spare room open and grabbing the first photo album I laid my hands on. I didn’t bother to check its contents before hastily making my way downstairs again. At the base of the stairwell, soft voices turned my attention to the living room. I paused, listening as my mom spoke to Skye.
“You know, Wesley has never brought a girl home before. You must be very special.”
