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“Gem is hungry,” Fancypants said.
“I’m moving, I’m moving.” I wanted a shower but first, I opened the cans of cat food for all three of them—Fancypants liked the same brand they did—and, leaving the three of them happily munching away, I stepped into the shower and lathered up.
As my hands brushed over my skin, I thought about Faron, and began to cry. He had wakened my sexuality again after a monster shut that side of myself down. He’d helped me realize that I could open up again. I had him to thank for that. And he cared for me—for me as a person. But now, he was in a coma. And worse, his brother thought that I was madly in love with him, and I was too much of a coward to tell him that I wasn’t sure exactly how I felt. It just seemed easier to leave things be while Faron was unconscious.
I sat on the shower seat as the water thudded down around my shoulders, staring at the tiled floor. Finally, the hot water ran out, and I rinsed off the suds and turned it off.
I dressed, glancing at the clock. It was eight-thirty and I had to open the store at ten. I had time for breakfast, and for contacting my mother and my aunt. After making some toast, I pulled out my phone and, dreading the approaching conversation, called my mother. She answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Grams told me about Owen last night.”
My mother, a wonderful woman in many ways, tended to make everything about her. She didn’t let me down. “I just can’t believe it—your cousin always seemed happy. I don’t know how I’m going to work through this.” She burst into tears.
I paused, not wanting to start a fight. Finally, I said, “How’s Aunt Ciara doing? I can’t imagine she’s in good shape. I want to call her, but thought she might not be in any state to talk over the phone.”
“I can’t believe he did this. I’m so glad I wasn’t the one to find him?—”
“Mom! Stop,” I blurted out, unable to suppress my irritation. “I can’t believe you’re telling me you’d rather that your sister found her son, dead in his room? It would be hard for any of us, but somehow you would have managed it better than Ciara.”
My mother took a deep breath, then said, “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“What?” I wasn’t letting her off easy.
“Taking the spotlight.” She didn’t sound happy.
I grinned. No doubt Grams had already had it out with her. “Yeah, kind of. I take it Grams had a chat with you?”
“She did, and I was properly offended until she told me to knock off the bullshit and face reality. That’s one thing about your great-grandmother. She’s not afraid of confrontation. At least I know where I stand with her.” She sighed. “My mother-in-law was less intimidating.”
At that, I laughed. “Granny was definitely quieter. She was nice, but I adore Grams. I wasn’t sure how we’d get along, but now I wish she’d move down here.”
“Let’s work on her—I think you and she get along far better than I do with either of you.” My mother sounded resigned. “I wish she liked me better. I wish you liked being around me, as well. And don’t argue—I know you don’t.”
That made me wince. “Mom, it’s true you and I don’t see eye-to-eye. We’re very different people, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
The truth was, we’d gotten along better before the vampire had cornered Rian and me, before he’d changed my life forever. Since then, I’d become a lot more fatalistic. My mother had always worn rose colored glasses. It wasn’t just that she was so damned positive that bothered me. It was that she bordered on narcissistic and everything was about her.
“I know, sweetheart. Well, back to the subject at hand. Ciara’s having a rough time. She loved Owen so much—he was a good boy.”
“He was a troubled man, Mom. Everybody knew it. Hell, he and I weren’t nearly as close as we were when we were young, but even I could tell that he was using again.” I worried my lip. “I’ll be there for the wake. Grams wants me to ring the bell.”
“I’ll see you then,” Mom said. “And I promise, I’ll try to watch what I say and to support Ciara. This just hit me so hard.” And by the tone of her voice, I realized that she was telling the truth this time. My mother had cared for Owen. And that one thing kept me from blowing up at her again. Her reactions might be over the top, but this time, they were genuine.
I signed off, then leaned back against my chair. I’d had such high hopes for the autumn, but here we were—starting off the season with loved ones dead, and injured. And I had no idea how to face the overwhelming onslaught of emotions. With a sigh, I grabbed the keys to my shop off the hook and headed across the driveway to my workshop/store. It was time to start the day, regardless of how I felt.
CHAPTER TWO
As I unlocked the door to my shop, I tried to focus on what I needed to do. I was feeling melancholy and introverted, but life kept going, and I didn’t have any choice. Either I forced myself to get moving and do what needed to be done, or I could slink away and drown myself in a bag of chips and rando TV shows. While the latter appealed to me like a siren’s song, I had things to do, and nobody else was going to do them for me.
I turned the sign in the window to “Open.” Technically it wasn’t ten o’clock yet, but I was only a few minutes early and, given I wasn’t in downtown Starlight Hollow, I didn’t expect to be overwhelmed by customers in my first hour of business. I tidied up, and everything was ready to go, so I unlocked the cash register, set my tarot cards on the table in the corner where I offered readings, and settled in with a copy of Modern Witch magazine to wait. Reading might take my mind off of Owen and Faron while I waited for customers.
Twenty minutes into the morning, the door opened, jingling the bells on the door, and I set down my magazine. It was Hazy Martin—a local witch who I’d recently done a reading for, concerning her troublesome marriage.
“Hazy—how’s it?—”
Before I could get the greeting out of my mouth, Hazy launched into me.
“You really did it, didn’t you? I can’t believe you told me that everything was going to be all right. I caught Richard fucking the nanny last night. You said nothing was going on!” The five-four blonde woman in front of me looked like an outraged harpy. She was pissed.
