Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t realized what she’d revealed until it was already out in the open. “I mean… yeah?”
The toad ribbited loudly in protest, hopping once in her lap like he was staging a miniature tantrum.
Celeste shot him a look. “Don’t.”
She turned back to me, her expression earnest but edged with something intense. “Mom, sleeping with numerous women while you’re married isn’t exactly oozing sweetness.”
I winced, not because it wasn’t true, but because I hadn’t realized how plainly she’d seen it. I always thought I hid the reasons well…
“And,” she added, her voice tightening, “the way he talks about them. Like they’re disposable. Like they’re interchangeable. And women my age or a little bit older? It’s gross.”
The toad puffed up, throat ballooning, and let out a furious ribbit.
“Stop,” she said flatly. “You don’t get to argue this.”
I felt something shift inside me, a mix of anger and sorrow and a strange, belated clarity. I’d known Alex had hurt me. I hadn’t fully grasped how much of that harm Celeste had absorbed quietly, watching, learning, filing it away.
“You’re right,” I said softly. “You are.”
She let out a shaky breath. “I just… I lost it on him. I didn’t plan to. He started talking about some woman at his condo building, as if it were funny or made him seem impressive. And something in me snapped.”
“You didn’t just lose control,” I said carefully. “You reacted.”
She looked at me, eyes bright with worry. “That’s what scares me. What if I do it again?”
The question hung between us, fragile and raw.
“What if I’m back at school,” she continued, “and things get rocky, or someone pushes the wrong button, and I don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s too late?”
The toad had gone still now, his earlier bluster gone, eyes wide and unblinking as if he, too, was listening more carefully than he’d intended.
I reached for Celeste’s hand and squeezed it. “You won’t be alone.”
“But you won’t be there,” she said quietly.
“Call us and we will. Plus, we’ll put safeguards in place.”
She looked skeptical. “Is that even possible?”
I hesitated.
The honest answer was complicated. Magic didn’t like cages, and it didn’t respond well to fear-based restrictions, but it did respond to intention. To grounding. To practice.
“I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet,” I admitted. “But Nova does. Ardetia does. Bella does. We’ll figure out ways for you to ground yourself. To recognize the surge before it takes over.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then we adjust,” I said. “Magic isn’t static, and neither are you.”
She leaned back against the chair, staring into the fire. “I don’t want to be afraid of myself.”
“You don’t have to be,” I said firmly. “Magic doesn’t make you dangerous. Not knowing yourself does.”
She was quiet for a long moment, then glanced down at the toad. “He really was awful, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “He was.”
The toad croaked, a low, wounded sound.
