“And I’ll read it to you, or you can ask someone else you trust to read it over before you sign it. Maybe Griffith? He said you all are friends. I won’t be offended.”
Griffith said that?I rub my suddenly warm chest.
“That’s … he is. My friend. But he doesn’t need to read it. I trust you.”
Mor blinks her big green eyes, and I can’t read the emotion in them. I hope it’s not pity.
“Thank you,” she says eventually. “For trusting me.” Then the witch reaches out and claims one of my hands, clasping it between hers. “It means a lot.”
I shuffle my feet, sure my entire body has gone red with a blush.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
Is your bed an option?
I don’t blurt that totally inappropriate question. It’s just that it was the comfiest bed I’d ever slept in.
“I think Levi … maybe …” Gods, I split in the middle of the night on the only housing option I had. Who knows if the monster will give me a second chance?
“Well, I know this place makes you uncomfortable.” She waves around the library. “But I have an RV in storage. Not doing anything but collecting dust. I can park it out front for you. There’s an electric and sewage hookup and everything.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’d be happy to know it’s getting some use.” She tilts her head and reroutes again. “Do you have friends in town? Other than Griffith?”
After a pause, I shake my head.
“How would you feel about hanging out with Jack and Ophelia? Ophelia is my brother Broderick’s mate.”
As I resume petting the purring cat, I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “Why them?”
“They went through something similar to what you did. I thought it might be helpful for you to talk to people you could relate to.”
Mor mentioned that before. How I wasn’t the first one who needed help starting over after a curse.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Great. I’ll set it up.”
Why does it feel like the witch just planned a playdate for me?
Hell, she just arranged my entire life.
And … I’m not mad about it.
17
Mor
“Here,I’ll keep note of all the money I spend on you. Then when you get a few paychecks under your belt, you can pay me back.” I hold up my phone to show Bo the Notes app. “Sound fair?”
His brows scrunch. “That’s a notepad too?”
I glance at my iPhone, reminded once again of how long Bo has been gone.
“It can be a notepad. There are apps. Applications. It can be a lot of different things.”
He nods even though his expression is still confused.
