My fingers brushed her face. “I’m so sorry, Mom.” It was a sentiment I said countless times, but now it felt more real, seeing her, young and beautiful, full of joy and possibilities. I took it all away from her.
A tear slid down my face, landing on the journal with a splat, blurring the ink. My focus dropped down to the journal itself, scrolling over my father’s handwriting.
I understand now . . .
The sentence popped off the page as I felt the book grip me, the picture in my hand fluttering to the floor.
“Nooooo!” I screamed, thrashing against it, but the scene flickered in front of me like it was set on fast forward again, jumpy, choppy, and unclear. Like the dream, I watched my father grab something, his face set with grim fear, shoving the object underneath a stone near the fireplace before I was yanked back, a cry tearing from my lungs, the book spinning me through the darkness and out.
My body flung back into a bag of potatoes, the spuds digging into my spine as the ceiling spun overhead. Shutting my eyes, I took a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” Ash shuffled over to me, his hands touching my face softly.
“Yeah.” I inhaled again, trying to center the rocky waves in my stomach.
“At least this time, you had something to land on,” he scoffed. “Guess we’re having mashed potatoes tomorrow.”
I opened my lids, scowling.
“What? That was funny.” His breathtaking smile was directed at me, his sexual energy throbbing down my legs.
“Ash...” I groaned, feeling the weight of his charm.
“Sorry.” He helped me sit up. “I’m usually pretty good at reining it in... not always easy with you.”
I rubbed my head where a potato had dug into my scalp.
“So what happened?” he asked.
My mouth opened, then shut, my expression twisting into confusion. “I don’t know; this one was bizarre.” I brushed back my hair. I so needed a shower. “I asked where the nectar was now, and I went back to the tunnels. Those pirates were running to the river where there was a boat... and then everything went black. Nothing.”
“What?” Ash tilted his head. “What do you meannothing? They still had it, right?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my brow. “I think so.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I did feel something lurking in the shadows, waiting for them.” Killian had said it was taken from them soon after. But something about whatever was waiting in the shadows made me shiver.
“It still would have been recorded in the book if it was with someone.” Ash’s confusion only added to the unsettled feeling I got. “It shouldn’t go blank like that. Not if they still had it.”
“Maybe it was one of those pages Opie used as a dress.” I shrugged one shoulder, not understanding either.
A nerve twitched in Ash’s cheek. “Was that all you saw?”
“Nooo...” I let the syllable drag out. “There was more, but it makes even less sense.”
“Szerelmem, that is becoming the norm with you.”
I scowled at him, but I couldn’t refute the claim.
“It took me to this cottage. It was the same place I dreamed about last night.”
“Wait.” Ash held up his hands. “You dreamed about a place the book took you just now?”
“Yeah.” I shifted back onto my knees. “Why?”
His mouth twisted, shaking his head. “Go on.”
