“I assume because the house is a marital asset worth millions, and you’re hoping for half of the proceeds.”
He snorts. “There aren’t enough wizards in the world to make that house sell formillions,plural. We also had a prenup.” He ventures a quick glance my way before his gaze refocuses on the road ahead of him. “It’s because you don’t belong there.”
My mouth pinches tight. “Wow, did you specifically request that Jessie take over your body during the séance, or did she just force her way in?”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
I throw out my arms. “Yes, then by all means, tell me how I don’t fit in. I’m eager to hear.”
“I’m about to if you’ll bloody shut up for five seconds,” he says with a disgruntled laugh. “I liked your father and Bronwyn seemed fine the one time we met. But you’re…you’re the one who shines. You shine so bright that I’ve never seen anything as misplaced as you sitting in that dreary, dusty house. You say you didn’t fit in as if it’s a bad thing. I think you didn’t fit in because you were always meant for something so much better than what you got.”
I’m still running, but inside me it’s as if the entire world is tilting.
And I sense that when it stops tilting…I might discover an entirely different world on the other side. Possibly a world where I actually belong.
Theo
We finish our run, butbarely. Bex is going to be in agony for the remainder of the day, so she needs an ice bath before I go into the office. Ignoring her repeated warnings about the kitchen, I enter and open the freezer door.
I assumed she didn’t want me to look because it was full of junk food. An entire drawer containing nothing but Skittles, perhaps. A water dispenser that provides Sprite instead.
To my surprise, it’s crammed to the gills with things I know aren’t hers. There’s half a frozen cake, covered in ice. There’s a soup can full of bacon grease, a casserole in foil that I know Bex didn’t make, a bunch of those frozen breakfasts Rick was so addicted to that he’d sometimes pack them in a cooler for trips.
This freezer is a sad monument to the family that once was. She’s holding on to the people she loved in the weirdest, most meaningless way possible, and she doesn’t want me to know…or change things.
Fuck.It was so hard when we lost my brother—I guess in some ways it’s still hard—and it was excruciating to watch my mother fall apart. But Bex lost them all at once and had no oneto turn to. She has it so much worse than we did and hides it so well but…fuck.
I hate this. I hate that I didn’t do more for her when it happened. But if nothing else, I can bloody well start now.
I carry the tray of ice and dump it into her tub, which I then fill with water.
She swallows when she sees the ice tray, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “I told you not to go into the kitchen. And that looks unpleasant.”
“Get in,” I demand. “It’ll help.”
“You will say absolutelyanythingto get me naked,” she says with an aggrieved sigh, “but fine.”
She reaches for the bottom of her shirt and I hold her arm. “I’m leaving first. When I’mgone,you get in the tub. I’ll bring food home tonight, and then we’ve got plans.”
“Is that when you’re going to try to undress me?” she asks. “It won’t work. I mean, it might if you ask. But not otherwise.”
I laugh. “No. I’m not undressing you.You’renot undressing you. We’re cleaning out the freezer.” She will never be able to move on from this house until she starts to dismantle it, until she accepts that the people she loves really aren’t coming back for their half-eaten ice cream and grease can.
It’s a baby step, yet there’s panic in her eyes at even that.
“I think I’d rather undress for you,” she says. “We’ll try both our ideas and see what everyone’s in the mood for when you get home.”
I think she’d really do it, simply to avoid cleaning out the fucking freezer. And I will need to call forth a level of almost unthinkable restraint…because yeah, I know which one I’d prefer too.
• • •
I get home that night with burgers and fries. She’s curled up on the couch with a copy ofThe Economist,watching some show where they put makeup on babies. “I’d love to do the freezer tonight, but I’m too sore,” she says, turning off the TV. “Seriously, I don’t even think I can walk across the room.”
I set the bag on the kitchen table. “I got you a double cheeseburger with grilled mushrooms and fries,” I tell her. “The food is right here. It will not be walking over to you.”
“Goddammit,” she groans, throwing off the blanket and limping to the table. “Why do you care if my freezer is cleaned out anyway?”
“Because I think this house is weighing you down.” I grab my burger and slide the bag her way. “I know you feel bad about leaving anything behind, but there’s a whole lot of shit that isn’t memorable at all. A photo is worth keeping. Half an ancient cake, not as much. So maybe we start at least separating the things that matter from the ones that don’t, okay?”
