Mor nods and tucks the locket into the collar of her shirt. “When I found out, I told them the same. Screamed it. My mother … she just waved her hand like I was a fly. Told me to stop being dramatic.” Mor tucks a wayward red curl behind her ear. “My siblings, me—I don’t think we registered in their minds as individual beings. To my parents, we were simply extensions of themselves. To be used how they wanted.”
“What happened? Between you and them?”
“When I found out what was happening with Ame, I swore a blood oath that I would sabotage all my parents’ spells if they experimented on her or the twins again. It was the only threat I knew they’d care about. So, they stopped, and when I was sixteen, I emancipated myself, and I took her and my brothers away.”
“They let you go?”
“I’m not sure they noticed. They didn’t fight me about it. They aren’t the fighting kind. They’re like fucked-up magical scientists.”
“Have you seen them since you left?”
Mor shrugs. “A few times. Not because I wanted to. But Ame and I had to go back to the town they lived in because a friend was storing my overflow of books while we traveled to find more. They didn’t attack us or threaten us. They seemed almostamused. Like we were a set of Pinocchios, wandering around the world, telling everyone we were real boys.”
“They sound like sociopaths.”
Mor nods and silently leads the way to the checkout. As we load our groceries onto the belt and the clerk scans everything, I can’t help studying the witch.
She might not have been trapped in a statue form for years, but it sounds like she knows exactly how it feels to be helpless and unable to escape.
Maybe that’s why she’s so quick to assist me.
I’m both grateful to her and agitated at the thought that Mor might only want to be around me because we have similar trauma.
Could the pretty witch ever choose to get close to me for no other reason than she enjoys my company?
A mortified blush floods the back of my neck at my neediness, only growing deeper when I realize Mor is handing over her credit card to pay for all the food, including mine.
“No, wait.” I shove my hand into my back pocket and tug out some of the few crumpled bills to my name. I thrust them toward the grocery worker, who accepts the payment with wide eyes.
“You don’t have to, Bo,” Mor says. “I can cover these.”
“I want to pay my own way,” I mutter, my voice gruff and face hot with embarrassment.
“Fair enough.”
She still hands over her card because the money I had wasn’t sufficient to cover everything in our cart. Food prices have also crept up while I was frozen.
At least I’m getting a paycheck from the library now.
Mor and I stay quiet to her car, silently unloading our bags into the trunk, and I roll the cart all the way back to the front of the store, wanting to give her a moment away from me before the car ride back to the library.
When I climb into the passenger seat, she doesn’t immediately pull out of the lot, instead turning to face me.
“I’m sorry, Bo. I kind of unloaded on you back there. That’s not something I normally do.”
I blink at her, surprised by her apology. “You don’t?”
Her lips twist in a grimace. “No. I only meant to tell you my parents suck, but then”—she flares her fingers in front of her mouth—“the rest came spilling out. You’re just … really easy to talk to. But that doesn’t mean I should make you my therapist.”
“I’m glad you told me. I want to know things about you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I want to know everything.”Whoa. Slow down.
Mor tilts her head, studying me, and oddly enough, I’m reminded of the raccoon I keep running into on my nightly walks. The furry creature tilts its head at the exact same angle, only the raccoon is cute while Mor is gorgeous.
“You know, I think I feel the same way.” Her smile is small and a touch confused. “About you. I think I want to know everything about you.”
