Page 28 of Pushing Daisy
Daisy lets loose a long breath. Her brain is telling her to give Sloan a real chance, and her gut is telling her not to get hurt. How does she move on from so many years of hurt? How can she trust that Sloan isn’t trying to trick her into making a fool of herself?
You can’t.
“But what do I do?” she whispers to herself. Apparently, she’s not quiet enough as Sloan starts to stir. She wipes her face again, hoping she isn’t too blotchy.
You would want to be given the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she is worth the same?
Sloan groans from the sofa as she rolls onto her back and stretches her arms above her head. The sound sends goosebumps down Daisy’s spine and settles in her core as her brain determines she must hear that sound again.
Fuck me.
CHAPTER 16
Sloan
For a moment, she forgets where she is. Her neck is sore and the surface she lays on is scratchy underneath her legs. As she opens her eyes, the last twenty-four hours come crashing back. Daisy. The Dandelion Inn. The single room with one bed. Daisy making Sloan sleep on the sofa. The way Daisy’s hair looked in the ambient light during dinner. Her smile. Daisy sharing her hurt. It’s all like a wave washing over her, flooding her senses. She breathes deep, waiting for the sensations to settle. When they finally do, she reaches out with her magic, sending silver dust around the room.
“What the?” Daisy yelps, pulling the blanket over herself.
“Shit! Sorry!” Sloan replies, abruptly sitting up and signing her legs over the edge of the sofa. She looks to Daisy and spies a patch of lightly tanned thigh before it is fully covered and sees her magic spark in the corner in response. “I let my magic stretch when I get up in the morning, and sometimes it has a mind of its own.”
“Warn me next time.”
Sloan smiles. Next time. “Will do.” Flinging her blanket off, she stands and picks up her phone from the coffee table, swearing she hears Daisy’s breath hitch. As she walks to the washroom, her magic follows her, receding back into her and closing the door behind her. “Good morning to you too,” she hears Daisy grumble on the other side. They’ve only been awake for moments, and the sass is already starting. While frustrating at times, Sloan admits to herself that the verbal sparring between them has been entertaining and, dare she even say, fun.
Franny and Gwen don’t have the combined mental capacity of an ice cube, let alone the ability to spar with her. As such, their conversations typically are concerned with gossip and clothes, which bores Sloan to no end. She needs someone who can handle her and certainly could do with better friends. Goddess, she is tired of their freeloading. Always trying to get something from her. She’s tried to rid herself of them for years, but they stick to her like the burnt remnants at the bottom of her cauldron. Sticky and a pain in the ass to scrape off. And no matter how hard you scrape, there are always pieces of burnt shit left.
Despite her efforts to distance herself and to stay back during all of their shenanigans throughout their lives, they keep coming back, and their family ties mean they’re always attending the same functions. Franny and Gwen have sailed along freely on Sloan’s broom ever since they were young. They’ve gained success and connections because of her and never fail to use that power to abuse others. It’s disgusting, really. These days, she’s finding fewer and fewer reasons to be surrounded by the connections her family has forced upon her and more and more reasons to strike out on her own, which is why she needs this thing to work out with Daisy. She needs to prove to everyone that while she may be Sloan Wilks, she is not just a Wilks.
Sloan gazes into the mirror, her hands resting on the counter, fingers wrapped around the edge, squeezing hard enough to turn her fingertips white. Her mind wanders back to her teenage years spent watching Franny and Gwen ruin the lives of many. The torment they caused. She didn’t risk standing up to them when they knew too much about her and her family and would not hesitate to use that information to their advantage. So, instead, she stayed back as much as she could, trying to stay out of the action, but she knows everyone thought, and perhaps still thinks, she was and is like them.
As she glances at her reflection, a particular memory bursts forth featuring Franny, Gwen…and Daisy.
Oh no. No. No. No.
She runs through the memory—everything the girls did to Daisy, the aftermath, and how Franny and Gwen faced no consequences, yet Daisy was nearly chased out of Leeside. She knew they had been terrible to her but had completely forgotten about this particular event. About how they copied and publicly shared her personal letters, among other things. Fucking Hades, they were so terrible. And she just stood idly by, watching it all go down.
How did she let it get that far? How did she forget all of this? No wonder Daisy hates her. No wonder Daisy has done everything she can to keep Sloan away from her and this project.
Sloan pushes herself away from the sink and sits on the bathtub’s edge. She hears Daisy climb out of the bed and move about the room on the other side of the door. She knows she won’t be able to remain in here much longer without raising suspicion. She runs her hands over her face and decides, then and there, that she will do whatever she can to make it up to Daisy. Or at least whatever is possible to prove she is not like Franny and Gwen. The first step she knows is to end the so-called “friendship” she has with the twisted sisters. She opens the group chat, ignoring the balloon-brained messages she received overnight, and types:
Sloan
Franny. Gwen. I’m sorry to be that person to do this through text…
No, wait. I’m not sorry.
You two are the vilest witches I have ever known, and that’s saying something since I’ve known my mother my entire life.
I am officially ending our friendship. Honestly, this should have come years ago.
Please see yourselves out of my life.
Your numbers will be immediately blocked after sending this. Do not try to contact me or anyone in my family ever again.
She clicks send on the final message and feels a weight lift from her shoulders. She may now be friendless, but at least she can try and move forward with a conscience.
With that done, she quickly uses the facilities and washes her face before exiting the bathroom.
