I consider that, pleased that when I take a self-diagnostic, the nausea and dizziness from earlier are gone. “That potion kicked the crap out of me, but I feel better now... rested and ready to face the world."
"Excellent." The tension in his frame relaxes as his gaze sweeps across my room. He takes in the four-poster bed, the pretty gray and plum décor, the stack of textbooks on my desk, the fairy lights strung above my window…
A slow smile tugs at his mouth. "So, this is where the magic happens, is it? The inner sanctum of the untamable Poppy Hallowind-Forrester."
I laugh. "Nothing wild happens in here, I'm sorry to say. I've been busy putting out fires since I got back. Sadly, my love life has taken a hit because of it."
"Maybe that's something we can revisit at some point."
I brush my hands over my face, waking myself up a little more. "Don’t threaten me with a good time, broody. I’m ready when you are."
He laughs, moving deeper into the room. “So, it’s me who’s got the brakes on, is it?”
I shrug. “You’re the one who’s been playing hard to get.”
“Or maybe I know we’re going to happen and am content to take our time and let the chaos around you settle before adding another complication.”
I chuckle. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or offended by that.”
He chuckles again. “Flattered. I was being thoughtful and charming.”
“Ah, my bad.”
His attention catches on the framed family photograph on my bedside table, and his smile slips. It was one of the last pictures taken of all five of us together before everything fell apart.
Wylder picks up the frame and studies it. "Your sisters really look like your dad."
"Yeah. I'm all Hallowind, and they're both Forrester clones." I swing my legs over the side of the bed and set my feet on my woven mat. "Sometimes I lie here and wonder if they are aware of who they are and miss Mom, Dad, and me, or if their memories have been wiped like mine were."
He shrugs a muscled shoulder. "You’ll find out when we bring them home."
The certainty in his voice steadies me. "From your lips to the Goddess Mother's ears."
He brushes a finger over the fifteen-year-old me standing in the center of the photo, and then gently sets it down. "I can't believe all the damage Laurel has caused and how many lives she’s destroyed. I was close with her for years, and I never even suspected that was a side of her."
It hurts my heart to know how betrayed he felt when he learned the truth, and to be the one who pulled the rug out from under him, but I don't want to talk about her.
Not here. Not when things are finally looking up for us.
“How's your mom?” I ask, steering the conversation onto another track. “We haven't talked much about how she's been doing since we brought her back."
The question shifts something in his expression. He settles on the edge of my bed, and the mattress dips under his weight, tipping me sideways until our shoulders touch. "It's been amazing having her back, being able to talk to her, to hear her laugh again after five years of missing her and being so angry about her death. That’s been great."
“But?”
He shifts to the side, retrieves the antique pocket watch from his jeans, and turns it over in his palm. "But I've been thinking about it, and I don't know if keeping her here is the right thing for her."
I swallow, knowing exactly how he feels. "You want her here. You want to keep her here forever, but you feel guilty, right?"
He meets my gaze. "I do. She's stuck in this watch, bound to the physical plane when she should be at peace with the ancestors. It's selfish to keep her here, isn’t it?"
My throat tightens. "I've been worrying about the same thing with my mom. She says she won't leave until Lily and Violet are home and I'm free of Tharuzel, but what if that takes years? What if it never happens? What if staying here is hurting her more than I realize?"
Wylder takes my hand and laces his fingers with mine. "Getting them back was the best, but yeah, it hurts thinking it's not really a life. My mom was always an active, vibrant force when she was alive. Now, she's just… here."
We sit there for a moment, holding hands, sharing the weight of impossible choices. Then he squeezes my fingers and stands, pulling me up with him.
"All right, enough of that. I came up to get you and make you feel better, not worse." He slides his pocket watch into his jeans and forces a smile. “The others are downstairs and ready for our next play. Let's focus on that."
