Page 81 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
“My magic is stronger than yours,” Violet said. “And if you think going around town and telling our secret will get you what you want, then you’ve underestimated just how far I’ll go to keep Tillie safe.”
“It’s not fair,” Regina said. “You brought her into our lives without thinking how it would impact me. You’re all I have, Violet, and she’s taking you away from me.”
“No, Regina.” Violet’s words came out sad but firm. “You’re pushing me away.”
“Mother and Father are gone.” Regina’s voice was low and thick with emotion. “You said we’d always have each other.”
Violet’s heart twisted. She almost crossed the space between them and wrapped her sister in her arms, as if she could keep all this pain from getting in. Had Regina’s grief driven her to this? If Violet had waited until after the anniversary of their parents’ death, would things be different? But, no. Regina was an adult, just as much as Violet was. She’d been trying to keep love out of Violet’s life for years.
“I don’t want to turn you out of this house,” Violet said. “But if you don’t give this up, I will.”
Then, she turned on her heel and started down the stairs.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Florence, Now
For thirteen years, Florence had been meticulous about protecting her heart. She didn’t let anyone in because she couldn’t bear the thought that caring for someone would put them in danger. Owen had changed that.
Now, he lay unconscious, crumpled on the floor, the beam beside him. She should’ve known better. She should’ve never opened herself up to the possibility of loss. Or worse, opened someone else up to the possibility of death.
But it didn’t make sense. The curse didn’t come until the thirteenth. Owen should’ve been safe until tomorrow. They all should have. But there he was, the sunlight shining through a hole in the ceiling and casting shadows over his face.
Though Florence wanted to run to him, she had to stop her sister. Evie stood dumbfounded, staring at Angela who, only moments before, had been right where the bulk of the beam lay. Already more wood in the roof was starting to creak.
“Angela,” Evie whispered, horrified, as Angela dropped to her knees beside Owen. Clara ran to Angela and wrapped her arms around her.
“Are you okay?” Clara asked.
Angela pulled her in close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We need to worry about him, not me.” But Florence could hear the fear in Angela’s voice, a tremor that cut through her usual confidence.
Florence closed the space between herself and her sister. She grabbed the candles and blew them out. Then, she threw them to the ground, the spell unfinished. Evie flinched as the floorboards shook, rolling the tapers even further away from the two of them.
“Howcouldyou?” Florence’s voice was quiet and low and so much like her mother’s.
Evie flung a hand toward the fallen beam. “I was trying to prevent this! It would’ve worked if you hadn’t interrupted me.”
Florence shook her head. She wanted to let her anger overtake her. To scream and sweep her arm across the altar and scatter the remnants of Evie’s spell. To make her sister feel the weight of what she’d done. But she wouldn’t be her mother, not even now.
She ran toward Owen and Angela.
“He’s breathing,” Angela said. She had one hand on Owen’s chest.
Florence’s own chest gave as she watched it rise and fall. She brushed Owen’s hair back from his forehead, revealing a trickle of blood from where his head had hit the floor. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have let him in.”
But Angela shook her head. “That beam was meant for me.”
Owen’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked up at them, eyes unfocused, and said, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Owen,” Florence breathed, and she almost kissed him. Instead, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, then his cheek. “Are you all right?”
He started to sit up then tipped back. Florence caught him before he could fall over, one arm around his back, the other pressed up against his chest.
“Alive,” he said. “Dizzy. Head hurts.”
“It could be a concussion,” Evie said.
He closed one eye and squinted at her through the other. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have come inside.”
