“Here I am,” Daphne says coldly. “I don’t want your message, Jack.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I changed my number for a reason.”
“Yeah, because you’re stubborn, and you won’t let me talk.”
Daphne studies her fingernails, avoiding looking directly at the handsome man. He’s tall and muscular, and to top it off, a military hero.
I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
And right now, he’s gazing at my baby sister as if she hung the moon—blue or otherwise.
“Fine. I see nothing’s changed here. But I didn’t do anything wrong, Daphne.” He leans in and whispers something in her ear that has her lip quivering, then he nods at Brielle and me and walks right out.
“What did he say?” I ask, though I already know. I’m not ashamed to say I dropped my shield long enough to eavesdrop.
She’s my baby sister.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.
“Daphne, you’re only torturing yourself and him.”
Daphne brushes her red hair over her shoulder and then wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.
“I can’t give him what he wants.”
“And what is that?” Brielle asks.
“Forgiveness,” I reply for her and reach over to wrap Daphne in a hug.
“No, that’s not it,” Daphne says, shaking her head. “I forgave him long ago.”
“Then what is it?” I ask.
“Truth. I can’t give him the truth he seeks. And that means we don’t have trust. We can’t be together, you guys. Which means, Jack isn’t one of the six.”
Oh, baby sister, you’re so wrong.
* * *
“I should go with you.”
I lean against the kitchen counter and stare at Lucien. The man is giving me a headache.
“I’m a grown woman. I don’t need a babysitter. Yes, I’m going to a mental hospital, but—”
“I’m not patronizing you, there’s a madman out there who very much enjoys torturing you psychologically, and we don’t know what he’s planning next. A mental hospital is a breeding ground for vulnerable psyches, which means he could hurt you there. I’d rather be nearby.”
I slip my hand into his and squeeze it three times, immediately softening at his concern. I know he’s not trying to control me, he’s trying to look after me. “If it makes you feel better, you can drive me. But I really want to go in by myself to see Mama. I have questions, and if you’re there, I’ll just be distracted.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re hot. Don’t act like you don’t know.”
He laughs and brushes his thumb across my forehead, taking away any trace of my headache.
“I’m just an average guy, darlin’, but it’s good for my ego that you think I’m more than that. I can do some work from the car while you’re in with your mom.”
“You have a microscope in your car?”
“No, smartass, I have a phone, and I can answer emails and make some calls.”
I nod and gather my bag and keys, along with the gift I got to bring with me, and we walk out to the car. Thanks to traffic, the drive over to the hospital takes longer than usual, but we make it all the same.
“I won’t be long,” I assure him and lean across the console to kiss his lips. “Less than an hour.”
“I’ll be fine,” he assures me.
I walk inside, check in with security, and pass through the metal detector, then make my way up to Mama’s floor. I’m nervous. I haven’t been here to see her alone since she came to live here last year. Usually, I have one or both of my sisters with me.
But I’ve been thinking about what Miss Sophia said. I need to talk with Mama, to explain some things and ask some questions so we can both heal. I can’t continue harboring animosity toward her. That will only fuel the hate and anger from him, and in the end, help him win.
That’s not an option this time.
I find Mama sitting in a chair by the window, looking outside. I walk over, making a wide berth so she’s sure to see me in her peripheral vision, and smile when she looks up at me.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Millie.” She smiles and glances around. “Are the other girls here, too?”
“No, it’s just me today,” I say and sit in the chair next to hers. We’re facing each other at a ninety-degree angle. “I brought you a present.”
“Oh, how sweet,” she says. “This is a wonderful surprise.”
“Go ahead and open it,” I urge.
She parts the tissue paper in the gift bag and pulls out the small box inside. “My favorite chocolates.”
“I remember you loving those when I was little,” I say. “I thought you might like them.”
“I don’t even know when the last time was that I had these.” She lovingly runs her hand over the top of the box. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“You’re welcome.” I clear my throat. “I also wanted to come in and talk with you, Mama. You see, I’ve been angry since you told us that you’re a witch.”
“I know, I could see it in you,” she says. “I just don’t know how to change it.”
“I don’t either, but I think talking about it might help.”
“Honey, I’m always happy to talk to you. I’ll tell you anything I know, and if I don’t know, I’ll do my best to find out.”
My lip quivers, and I press them together as I try to collect myself.
“Why does that make you emotional?” she asks.
“Because this person sitting across from me is the mother I longed for all of my life. Mama, I’m a hedgewitch.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.”
“And now that I know I could have been learning from you all this time, I guess I’m grieving for everything we lost. And my first reaction was to be angry.”
“You ain’t got nothin’ to be mad about.” The words snap out of her mouth in a thick Cajun accent, and then Mama’s eyes go round, and she clears her throat. Her eyes are changing from brown to blue.
