Eleanor nodded, her eyes damp. "He’s already there."
After the last of the sparks died down and Bryce had run his energy off in the yard, he vanished to the living room, calling out that he needed to check his high score. Aurelia packed up her kit and offered a wink before heading out. For a moment, the housewas quiet. Just me and Eleanor, standing in the kitchen among the scorched marks and the faint citrus tang of lemon cleaner.
"Stay for tea?" I asked, surprising myself. I'd almost asked her a couple of times, and she'd looked hopefully at me every day before leaving, but for some reason today I did it.
Eleanor beamed. "I’d like that."
I set the kettle on, hands suddenly awkward with the old, chipped mugs and the last of the fancy loose-leaf. She moved to the living room and settled into the corner of the couch, hands clasped in her lap, gaze drifting across the photo wall.
When I came in, she hadn’t moved. I set her cup down, took the other side of the couch, and waited.
The silence stretched out. It felt like two people bracing for impact.
Eleanor cradled the mug, watching the curls of steam. "You have a beautiful home," she said, and for a second I almost laughed at the banality of it.
"Thank you." My voice came out hoarse. "We try."
She nodded. "I never meant to hurt you," she said. She didn’t look at me, but her grip on the mug was white-knuckled. "The spell, I wanted to protect you. You were pregnant and alone, and I panicked."
I stared into my tea, waiting for the old anger to bubble up, but it didn’t. It was just sadness now. "Protect me from what?"
Eleanor shrugged, her shoulders so small and sloped they made her look ancient. "From men like your father, for starters. Quin was nothing like his brother Nathan. He was a good man, buthe was not an easy man. I wanted something different for you. I wanted you saved from every disaster that followed him through our house. I thought if I guided you to stability, if I made you less susceptible to reckless choices, you’d land somewhere safe. I never meant to take away all of your choices. Or your mate."
I set my mug down and flexed my hands, willing them not to shake. "You took away more than that, Mom. You took away the part of me that knows who I am. I thought I was broken. I spent ten years thinking I was unlovable because you decided you couldn’t trust me to make my own mistakes."
Her eyes filled, and she wiped at them, embarrassed. "I know. I don't know how to express how sorry I am."
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. I was so tired of fighting old battles. "You could have just trusted me."
Eleanor nodded. "I should have."
We sat with that for a while. In the other room, Bryce cackled at something on the TV, his laughter rolling through the house. I thought of all the years he’d missed with his grandmother, all the birthdays I’d filled with cake and presents and the wolf pack.
"I’m sorry I kept you away from him," I said, not expecting to. "He needed you. I needed you."
Eleanor reached across the cushion and put her hand over mine. Her skin was thin and cool, but her grip was strong. "I want to be here now," she said. "Let me make it up to you both."
I squeezed her hand. "Okay."
The next hour passed in small conversation, the kind that builds bridges from the rubble of the old ones. We talked about the garden, Bryce's obsession with space documentaries, and hercoven. Each story was a little less stilted, a little more like the old days before everything fell apart. We'd never been close, but this was better than yesterday.
When the tea was gone, Eleanor stood. "I should let you get back to your evening."
I got up, too, and walked her to the door. Instead of the usual polite nod, I hugged her. It was quick, a little awkward, but real. She hugged back, her arms shaking.
"See you tomorrow for Bryce’s lesson?" I asked.
She smiled, hope lighting her face. "I’ll be here."
She walked down the porch, her shadow long in the late afternoon. For the first time, she looked lighter, as if the guilt she’d carried was finally starting to dissolve.
I closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a breath I’d been holding for a decade.
Outside, the world waited, big, uncertain, full of new disasters. But inside, the weight I’d lived with was less than it had been that morning. Maybe not gone, but light enough that I could finally see past it.
I went to the living room, scooped Bryce into a hug, and promised myself that from now on, we’d fight for every good day we got.
Chapter 30
