My face softened in amusement. ‘You know her well enough to know she probably didn’t have one. But something about it seemed to flip the switch in mum’s brain. It took her a few weeks, but eventually we got the bus to the nearest shelter.’ Those first few days were some of the darkest and loneliest of my life. Mum had to learn how to live again, after so many years of being nothing more than a hollowed out husk of a human.
‘She got a job, and we lived in a council flat until I started earning money of my own. The only reason I got into veterinary school was because I got a scholarship.’ The day I camehome and mum held that letter between her trembling fingers, we’d both burst into tears.
‘When did she start with all the…witch stuff?’
I breathed out a soft laugh. ‘About a year after the divorce was final. She found this group that met once a week at the local library. She thought it was a book club, ended up going and… let’s just say the house filled with crystals very quickly after that. But it got her out of the house. It gave her a purpose.Hope.’
Something they never tell you about building a life from the ground up, starting over again when you’ve lost everything, is that the smallest sliver of hope, no matter how minute it might be. That’s what keeps you going. That’s what keeps youalive.
George opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when the words didn’t come.
Already knowing the question he was trying not to voice, I exhaled a sharp breath.
‘There were a couple of years where he didn’t let it go. He’d send texts, emails, even found out where we lived and banged on the doors for hours, even though we refused to let him in. But eventually, I think he got bored. He signed over custody of me and gave her enough to buy the house she lives in. I haven’t heard from him in seventeen years. If he choked on a truffle and suffocated on his own bad breath, I’d bake a fucking cake to celebrate.’ My lips pressed together in a thin smile.
Hate is a strong word. One many use too flippantly. But when you loathe someone down to the very marrow of your bones, it’s often the force that propels you to action. It’s the reason I worked hard in school, determined to never need to ask for a single cent from anybody. It’s why I made a promise to myself that I would never let myself be in the same vulnerable position Mum was in, where a man with too muchpower and influence could swoop in under the guise ofsaving me.
A grapefruit lodged itself in my throat. ‘Thecruelestthing you can do to a person is take their autonomy. Build them up so much that they depend on you, and then disappear. Taking the very essence of who you are with them. That’s why I never wanted this.’ I pressed a hand to his chest. He lifted a hand to my jaw, tilting it up, forcing me to meet his impenetrable gaze.
‘No one can take your autonomy.’ His eyes sharpened. ‘Not really. Being alive means you’re free. Not many realise that. I think the cruelest thing you can do to someone is make them believe that they’re not their own person anymore.’
That’s exactly what my father had done. Taken mum’s humanity away, bit by bit.
Done with the spotlight being on me, I poked him in the shoulder. ‘That’s all the vulnerability you’re getting from me tonight, sir. Now make it even. Tell me a secret about you.’
His lips ticked up. ‘I’m not the biggest fan of chocolate.’
At the absolute horror on my face, his grin stretched wide. ‘It’s the truth.’
‘Okay, well, this is never going to work. I’m sorry.’ I made to turn over, twisting myself away from his body. He wasn’t having that. He dug his fingers into my waist to stop me from moving.
I batted his hands away. When he kept digging his fingers in, I let out a sigh. ‘Hang on a minute.’ He twined his legs with mine, pulled his body up so he was hovering over me.
Face staring down, eyes narrowed.Fuck, he was handsome.
He dug his fingers into my side once again. His eyes widened when I stared up at him, unimpressed.
‘You’re not ticklish.’ He let his hands wriggle all the way up my side, trying to find a weak spot.
‘Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not,’ I said with a smile. Honestly, feeling his hands on my body, even if it was in an attempt to tickle me, was incredible. It sent warmth rippling up my spine, making me want to close my eyes and sink into his touch.
‘You have to have a ticklish spot. Everyone does.’ He brought a hand to my neck to tickle me there. All that did was cause a soft moan to slip free. He stilled above me.
‘You like my hand around your neck.’ It wasn’t a question. His eyes darkened as he spread his fingers, slotting them around my throat and squeezing ever so gently. That pressure alone had my eyes fluttered closed and my worn pussy suddenly twitching to life.
‘Uh huh,’ I mumbled, as his grip tightened almost imperceptibly. ‘I rarely let guys do it, though.’
That small truth felt like dropping an anvil into the quiet room. My eyes snapped open to find George’s lips inches away from mine.
‘Why?’ His hot breath fanned over my lips as he placed soft kisses on the corner of my mouth, peppering them up to my cheeks. His hand still curled my throat. ‘Why don’t you let others hold this pretty neck as they fuck you, sweetheart?’
How can he make crass words sound sweet? And why did I want to answer every question he voiced with stark honesty?
‘That requires trust,’ I said thickly.
The implication of that statement rang loud and clear. From the way George’s eyes softened, he knew it too. I trusted him. Enough to hold me this way, enough to share my fucked up childhood with him.
‘You haven’t told me a secret yet,’ I pointed out.
