“It won’t.” I felt strangely calm, considering the week I’d had. Or maybe I’d just reached my limit of fear and worry and grief and loss. My emotional fuses were blown, leaving me detached and analytical.
Your family needs you.
I’d never had the mythical mothering instinct I’d heard so much about during my pregnancy. When Blake was born, I hadn’t felt a magical wave of love. I hadn’t held my child for the first time and realized I would burn the whole world to protect him. I’d been exhausted and in pain and scared to death and I’d desperately wanted a drink or five.
Blake was right about me. I’d been a shit mother. I’d resented him for taking away my freedom. For endless crying and tantrums and late-night fits, and for my complete inability to figure out how to make them stop.
Children were worse than demons. They were uncontrollable little chaos tornadoes.
So, I’d avoided him. I chose my cases and my clients over my family. I told myself it was better for both of us. Blake had grown up to be smart and strong and popular, so he clearly hadn’t needed me.
I handed Ronnie my phone. “The lock-screen code is 696969.”
He didn’t take it. “What are you doing, Ms. Thorne?”
“Jenny is trying to fix this. I’m going back to help.”
“Your family—”
“Needs me, I know. I heard Jenny the first time.”
Blake’s split with Erin had given me a second chance. I’d brought them to Salem where I could reconnect with my son and get to know my grandchildren. I’d taken an interest and gotten involved and scheduled weekly times for the kids to visit at the shop. For me, his divorce had been an opportunity, even a blessing.
Now that I thought about it, that attitude might have been a factor in his ongoing resentment toward me.
Blake was a better parent than I’d ever been. If the world burned, he would keep his children safe. He’d love them both, no matter how many eyeballs they had. He would care for them with such fierceness that the gods themselves would hesitate to cross him.
I could go with them. I wanted to. I wanted to help them fight the monsters, to be their guide and protector in a world none of them fully understood.
“This is how I can best protect them,” I said. “Not by being with them when it all goes to hell, but by stopping it from happening in the first place. Now take the fucking phone.”
He took it. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Blake will call to find out what’s happening. Let it go to voice mail. He’ll text next, asking why I didn’t answer. Reply like you’re me. Tell him things are under control and you’ll fill him in when you get to the mall.”
“Lie to him, you mean.”
“That’s right.”
“He’ll be mad.”
He’d be furious. He’d think I’d chosen work over family again.
If I was very, very lucky, maybe someday he’d realize I was doing the opposite. For once, I wasn’t choosing what was easiest for me but what was best for my family. I couldn’t let them grow up in the world of Ronnie’s nightmares, not if there was any chance I could help stop it.
“You heard what Mr. Finn said.” Ronnie looked past me at the house. “It’ll consume you just like it will Ms. Winter.”
“Jenny talked about her bond with the house. Well, my name’s on the title right beside hers and Temple’s. I can help.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Take care of them, Ronnie. Promise me.”
He straightened as he realized what I was asking. Not just to get Morgan and Sage away but to look after my family if I couldn’t. “You have my word.”
“Thank you.” I walked toward the house. I heard the van door slam behind me. The van pulled away a moment later.
The doorway tried again to keep me out.
“All right, damn you.” I removed my knife. Even knowing what I had to do, I hesitated. The idea of being unable to defend myself...of being powerless for the next year...it went against every instinct that had kept me alive this long. There were too many people, too many things that would come gunning for me if they found out.
Well, they’d have to take a fucking number. I set the knife on the splintered remains of our porch bench. “I accept your contract.”
