"You're being a chickenshit, Rika." Mom holds up one hand and I suddenly feel like I'm ten years old and refusing to do my meditation with her. "And as your mother, I'm calling you out on it."
"Mom! Don't swear in front of the children!" I sputter, shaking my head like a dog. I'm vaguely satisfied when droplets land right on her face.
"I will call my daughter a chickenshit when she's being a chickenshit." Belinda plants her hands on her hips, completely unapologetic.
My face flushes hot with embarrassment and anger, my hands trembling as I grip the wet sheets. "What exactly are you talking about?"
Even though I know perfectly well.
Mom's voice goes flat and unimpressed.
"It's about Noah. Of course it's about Noah. Who else would it be about?"
"How do you even know about Noah and me?" I reach for my head and massage my brows as a pulsing headache blooms behind my eyeballs. "You know what? Never mind. I don't want to know because it doesn't matter. It's over anyway."
I lift my chin defensively, trying my best to ignore the way Zoe shoots eye-daggers at me. The girl is going to grow into a fearsome pixie. I pity whoever finds themselves on her wrong side.
Mom's eyes narrow dangerously. She reaches into the pocket of her tunic and pulls out a bundle of sage tied with string, waving it at me like a weapon. "Don't make me smudge the lies right out of you, Rika Everdeen. Tell the truth right now or I'm lighting this thing up and we're doing a full spiritual cleansing."
Before I can respond, Zoe's voice cuts through from the doorway, calm and matter-of-fact.
"I already know, Mom. We both do."
Matthew nods vigorously beside her.
My heart drops into my stomach. I turn to stare at my daughter, my pulse hammering so hard it feels like my ribs might crack. "Zoe, I—"
Zoe steps into the room, her sapphire wings folded neatly against her back, her expression more mature than any thirteen-year-old should have to be. "I'm not a baby, Mom. And I'm not stupid. I see the way Noah looks at you. And I see the way you look at him when you think no one's watching."
"Noah makes you smile, Mom." Matthew pipes up, his small voice earnest and sweet. "Like, really smile. Not the smile you do when you're pretending everything's okay."
Pain shoots through my chest and I press my hand over my mouth to hold back a sob. My wings tremble against my back, the tips brushing the headboard.
Zoe takes a step closer, her blue eyes fierce and determined. "I've never seen you happier than you've been the past few weeks. Never. Not even before Dad left. Maybe especially not before Dad left."
The words land like a revelation. I have to look away, staring down at my lap where my hands are twisted in the wet sheets.
"I want you to be happy, Mom." Zoe's voice is closer this time. "When you're happy, our whole house is happy. Everything feels lighter. Better. I want that for you. For all of us."
I look up at my daughter through blurry eyes, seeing the strength and love there, and feel something shift deep in my chest. The first crack in the wall I've built around my heart for far too long.
My gaze shifts back to Mom, and my voice comes out thick and broken.
"It's too late, Mom. I already blew it. I ruined everything."
Mom's expression softens just slightly, but she doesn't move to comfort me yet.
"Tell me what happened."
I take a shaky breath and force the words out, each one feeling like pulling glass from a wound.
"Noah got a job offer. From some posh private school in New York City. Great salary. Everything he could want."
Matthew makes a small, distressed sound from the doorway, but I keep going, the words spilling out now that I've started.
"He told me he didn't want to take it. That he wanted to stay here. With me. With us."
Mom's eyebrows lift. "That sounds like a good thing."
