It will just seem like I’m throwing it in his face. There might be a time to tell him, but not now. Not when I’m so emotional.
“I saw some of it,” Owen says, surprising me. “Or I should say, I felt it.”
“What did you feel?” I ask.
“I’m not really sure,” he answers. “It felt like… You were hungry. Maybe trapped? Someone powerful was there, who wouldn’t let you get away. But above all, horrible, intense grief. You lost someone, didn’t you?”
“My mother,” I almost sob, curling in against myself. “She was very sick. We went to live with my aunt, but she didn’t take care of us. She abused me. I think she let my mother die. I don’t know.”
“Holy shit,” Owen says, coming up onto the bed to hug me. I lean into him, taking comfort from his strength. “What the hell happened to you?”
“It doesn’t really matter now,” I say, pushing away the memories of Aunt Dana’s abuse. “But… I do remember that she was a witch, and so was my mom.”
“Oh my God,” Owen says, keeping me huddled against his chest as he strokes my hair. “Really?”
“Really,” I reply. “My aunt wiped my memory before she left town. That’s why I didn’t remember before this.”
“Where is she now?” he asks.
I shake my head. “She said something about going to Europe. I remember seeing some documents when I was cleaning, that she’d bought a massive estate over there. She’d been planning it for years, and it was an inconvenience to her that we showed up on her doorstep. She wanted to make it work for her, though, and tried to take my mom’s magic. She wasn’t able to do it, and that meant I was useless to her.. She left right when my mom died. I went straight into foster homes. I never heard from her again.”
Owen rocks me a little, and the sensation of his fingertips stroking my long hair sends ripples of comfort running through me.
“I’m so sorry, Trina,” he says gently. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, ever again. Please believe that.”
Even though I do believe him, I know how crazy and cruel the world can be, and the words don’t quite reach all the way to my heart. His touch comforts me, but I’m nowhere near healing.
“Well, at least we know now that you are a witch,” he says.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “But according to my aunt, I’m not very powerful. It’s one of the reasons she punished me.”
“What a horrible person,” Owen mutters, his arms tightening protectively around me.
We sit like that for a little while, and as my tears dry, my muscles relax, and I realize how tired I am.
Maybe I won’t have nightmares anymore. Maybe I can actually rest.
Even so, sleep still scares me.
“You’re tired,” Owen says. “Do you want to lie down?”
“Yes,” I reply. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll just—”
“No,” he says, pulling back to look into my face. “I can’t leave you.”
We stare at each other through the pale shadows, and the moment between us feels heavy, but not in the awkward way it’s always been so far. Vividly, I remember our shared climax, the look in his eyes when he came inside me, and the way my body clung to his with every fiber of my strength.
As if in that moment, we were truly whole.
My resolve breaks a little, and Owen strokes my cheek, smiling. The warmth inside me grows stronger, and I realize how deeply I trust him.
He did reach right into my nightmare and wake me. He might even be the catalyst that lets me remember it… as well as the part about me being a witch.
“Okay,” I say. “I want you to stay.”
He smiles and hugs me, stroking my hair again. I press my cheek to his chest, hearing his massive, strong heart beating, the rhythm soothing me as much as his gentle touch on my hair. Slowly, we lay down, whispering to each other a little as both of us get comfortable and Owen pulls the covers over us.
I curl up against his chest, the first feelings of wonder beginning to prickle at the back of my mind.
