When I returned to Georgiana’s house to pack up my life, I realized how little of a mark I’d made, even after being free for six months.
A handful of outfits.
A coat, sandals, and sturdy boots.
My cell phone. Some personal hygiene items. A few secondhand paperbacks I bought from Never Judge a Cover, the town’s bookstore.
That was it.
If I incinerated along with my fire, my entire existence could easily be done away with through one trip to a trash can.
Still, Georgiana—who was up, waiting for me, when I arrived—seemed livid about my abrupt departure.
“After taking care of you all these months, this is the thanks I get?” She glared at me while I packed up my small life. “Your rudeness to Franklin, then leaving without warning?”
In a way, she was right. Georgianahaddone a lot for me when she had no reason to, and I was making a fast exit without a thank-you.
Because those words were still so hard to say.
But I wouldn’t be guilted into remaining, and I certainly didn’t want to stay in a place where someone thought I needed taking care of.
There’s a difference between caringforsomeone and caringaboutthem.
I doubted that Georgiana could claim the latter.
“You have done a lot for me,” I admitted while zipping up my bag. “But now, it’s time I take care of myself. If I owe you any money, please let me know.”
I’d been trying to contribute financially for months, but she always pushed the offers away. Maybe the gesture would have seemed kind to others, but for me, I only felt more beholden.
“And there is a gift. Something I made. For you.”
I’d left the vase of glass flowers on her dining room table. Matching the single one I’d originally crafted for her when I made everyone else’s thank-you gifts. The siren had claimed to love the fragile bloom, so I’d fashioned her an entire bouquet. Hopefully, through them, she’d understand that I did truly appreciate her generosity.
I suppose I’ll find out the next time we cross paths in this small town.
“Well, it’s getting late,” Owen announces. “I’ll bid you both good night. Ophelia, I’ll see you at work on Monday. Broderick, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bright and early. Ready to get your ass whooped.” Owen offers a jaunty wave before heading up the hill toward the main house, whistling as he goes.
I turn to find Broderick rolling his eyes.
“What’s happening bright and early tomorrow?”
He offers a sheepish smile. “We’re playing cricket.”
That means absolutely nothing to me. “And cricket is …”
“Sorry.” Broderick tucks his hands in his pockets, and a blush steals over his cheeks. “I keep forgetting that it’s not big over here. Cricket is a sport. Kind of like baseball, but not really. It’s a pretty huge thing over in England. And I think it might be the most popular sport in India. Have you met Anthony’s partner, Zara?” When I shake my head, he explains, “She’s a harpy and a veterinarian. You might have seen her in town. She’s also Ame’s boss. Sorry, that’s a lot of information to throw at you without answering your question.” The witch gives me a rueful grin.
“You don’t need to apologize,” I tell him, coming to lean against the tiny kitchen sink, where he lingers. “I like hearing you talk.”
The blush he had before now looks like a full sunburn, and the heat under his skin is both endearing and enticing.
“Oh. Okay. Well, anyway, Zara’s father, Sanjay, is a huge cricket fan. His parents came over from India, and he grew upon the game, then raised Zara to love it too. And Anthony wants to do anything he possibly can to get on Sanjay’s good side. Not that he’s on his bad side, necessarily. But when he found out Sanjay wanted to have a cricket league, but didn’t have enough interest from townsfolk to get a game going, he made it his mission to conscript a decent amount of us in order to play.”
“That’s sweet. So, you and Owen and others are going to be playing this cricket game tomorrow morning?”
“Yep. Luckily, I played a few matches when I lived in England, so I have a good idea of how the game goes. I still have a feeling that I’m gonna get my ass handed to me.” Broderick ducks his chin as he offers the self-deprecating words.
I find the witch’s humble nature extremely appealing. Maybe it’s from spending my life under the thumb of men who thought they knew better than me. Sometimes, you just want to be around someone who doesn’t think they’re God’s gift to the world.
