Sighing, I shake my head. “Not tonight,” I say quietly from my spot in the bed.
She lets out a long, grumpy hiss, and doesn’t move from the rug by the door.
“The window is open,” I remind her with a point in that direction. “You are more than welcome to join them.”
Another quiet knock floats through the space. It rings like an anvil in my mind, echoing with the possibilities and realities of opening that door.
As great as it is to have this new information and how it puts the first journal I found into perspective, it doesn’t change the fact that Barrett was a scorned lover who had to live with that pain for years.
I don’t know why he didn’t leave the coven. From what Petra wrote, Barrett loved Nestor as if he were his own brother. It wasn’t only one heartbreak he felt, and it would have been two of the most important people in his life he would have to leave behind.
I can only imagine what it would do to me—how it would tear at my soul—seeing the person I loved committed to someone else, every single day. The time I heard Esme’s sweet laugh floating out of Archer’s room was enough to make me feel like a caged animal.
Barrett lived so much of his life with that pain. First, longing for a woman who loved his best friend. Then for months afterward when Nestor returned and claimed his role as husband again.
Unfortunately for Archer and me, it doesn’t change anything for our fate. Cordelia’s note has been burning a hole in my nightstand since I found it on her desk, and getting the true confirmation that Barrett was in love and intimate with Petra, feeds into the belief that he was the cause of all of this.
Turning back to the journals sprawled out in front of me, I try to listen, hoping to hear him turn away from the door.
After a few seconds, a third knock comes through and Hexate hisses, this time more whiny than angry. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the instinct to go to him.
Finally, the floor creaks under him as he turns down the hallway. I have no idea where he goes, but Hexate slithers out the window and leaves me alone with my spiraling thoughts.
Pushing the books away, I pull my legs into my chest and begin to sob.
Hexate will be back, but it’s a heart-slicing rejection nonetheless.
More than that, I want to live without the repercussions of this damn curse for once. It has controlled me and my relationships with the people close to me my entire life.
As my tears fade and my breaths slow, I realize I’m not the only person crying in my bedroom.
It was hers first—Petra’s.
She’s sitting in a large, wooden rocking chair that has since been removed from the room. There’s a screaming baby in her arms as she cries in frustration and attempts to get her to latch.
“Please,” she begs the infant. “Please. You have to eat.”
In response, she gets louder, making herself cough from the pressure on her vocal cords.
“Oh, Petra,” I murmur, wanting to go help her but knowing there’s nothing I can do to change this memory.
“Your father would know what to do. He was always much better with babies than I am. But… he… he’s—” She abruptly stops when the door flies open, letting out a shocked yelp and tugging her dress up to cover herself.
“Arch—” I start, standing to go toward him when Petra asks, “Barrett, what are you doing?”
“Give me the child,” he demands.
She tugs the infant closer and attempts to move her mouth back to her nipple. Before she can argue, Barrett steps forward and gently removes Gemma from her hold.
“Rhiannon and I will give her a bottle downstairs. This isn’t beneficial for either of you.” When her face begins to crumble, he crouches down with the infant in one arm and her jaw in his other hand. “We will try again tomorrow. You need to rest, Petra.”
She slips her nightgown’s strap back onto her arm and nods, never taking her eyes off of her child.
“Rest, Little Wisp. I will watch overyou—both of you.”
With more resolution, Petra bobs her head in confirmation and wipes the tears from her cheeks. He moves his hand to wrap around her shoulders and helps her crawl into bed, moving right through me as they do.
She and I watch him leave the bedroom, closing the door behind him as the infant’s screams fade throughout the house, but when I turn back to my bed, Petra’s gone.
