Page 55 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 55

A nsel’s horse galloped along a dirt path, its hooves kicking up dust. The overcast sky made the distant trees appear darker, more sinister. They loomed before him like the walls of an enemy fortress.

His pulse pounded as he neared them. He’d thought himself safe from the wood’s terrors, but the closer he got, the more his insides twisted. He touched the letter in his pocket like a talisman.

Gretta had left it for him a week ago, the afternoon he’d given her the deed to the house. She’d slipped it through the mail slot without knocking, and he found it the following morning. He hadn’t seen her since.

He reached the tree line and reared to a stop. The horse nickered merrily, oblivious to the darkness swirling around them. Darkness only Ansel could see. Breathing slowly, he counted backward.

It’s just a forest. There’s nothing left here that can hurt you.

As if to emphasize the point, a jeering blue jay flew from the trees. Ansel nudged the horse on.

The air grew cooler as he plodded into the wood. It used to be eerily quiet, but now sparrows chirped overhead. A pair of squirrels chittered, chasing each other across a branch, and a deer took off running when it heard the horse.

Ansel inhaled through his nose and exhaled out his mouth, pushing onward. He’d suffer a thousand of his episodes to see her again.

Her letter had been brief, merely a time, date, and location. It gave no indication of her feelings. That she reached out at all had to be a good sign, though, didn’t it? Surely, she wouldn’t call him there to tell him she’d changed her mind?

Of course, with Gretta, one was a fool to forecast.

Ansel rode through the forest at an easy pace until the path ended. He stopped short of a wide clearing and pressed his eyes shut. The Eater’s creek gargled in the background.

The witch is dead. Gretta’s waiting for you.

He dismounted and entered the clearing.

She stood before the rotting cottage, oblivious to him. A half-empty liquor bottle hung from her fingertips.

Fear and love constricted Ansel’s chest, nearly suffocating him, and he had to concentrate on every breath as he approached.

When she heard leaves crunching, she looked over her shoulder. Her expression held no emotion, but dried tears streaked her cheeks. Ansel ached to haul her against him. He wanted to comfort her, to pick her up and run, to promise her they’d never return to these godforsaken woods.

Instead, he stopped beside her. They quietly stared at the cottage.

“It looks different,” she said. “I’m not sure what I expected.”

He eyed the sunken roof and the crumbling chimney. The pink scalloped trim had faded to gray, and dead vines encased the walls. Glass shards jutted from the windows like fangs.

“It’ll collapse in a few years,” he said. “A fitting grave.”

“Her bones are still in the oven. It’s silly, but I had to check.” Gretta searched the crooked doorway as though the Eater’s skeleton might crawl out and snatch her.

Her fist clenched around the bottle, but she didn’t uncork it. “What do you think she’d say if she could see us here together? If she knew we were still friends?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure she’d care either way.”

“You don’t think she hated us?”

“I don’t think she felt anything at all. It never seemed personal to me. She was like a mindless, rabid wolf who needed to be put down.”

Gretta glanced at him, then continued staring at the cottage. “That kind of helps, actually. Thinking about her as an animal? It’s easier to move on from a snake bite than a monster’s cruelty.”

“Is that what we’re doing here, Gretta? Moving on?”

“I think so—I hope so. I can’t keep hanging on to it. Sometimes I feel like she’s eating me alive from the inside out, and I need to just…let it go. All of it.”

The finality in her words sparked a battle within him. There was relief and gratitude for her desire to heal but also dread.

Did all of it include him? She’d said they were friends but not for how long. What if he was too enmeshed in her past to remain in her present? What if she needed to let go of him to have a better future?

Would it make him a selfish bastard if he dropped to his knees and begged her to love him?

Wind gusted, ruffling her ponytail. Ansel inhaled deeply, fortifying himself. Whatever she’d come to say, he needed to hear it. Even if it was goodbye.

He gently placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Why did you bring me here, Gret?”

His eyes burned with emotion. Habit urged Gretta to look away, but she kept her face tilted to his. “I guess I realized how much I’ve let the past affect me. My feelings, my friendships, everything. And you have, too. We both need to move on.”

“From each other?” His posture went rigid, like he was bracing himself.

Heart breaking a little, Gretta put a hand on his chest. “I want us to move on together, Anse.”

She sensed he wanted to ask what that specifically meant. He didn’t, though, probably recalling his promise to give her time. They really needed to work on their communication.

Smiling softly, she stroked his chest. “Let me be clear. We’re friends, but we’re also more. I’ll keep being a difficult asshole, and you might always have nightmares, but we’ll help each other with it.” He still seemed unsure, so she added, “As a couple.”

He blinked twice. His body relaxed, and his arm tried to coil around her waist, but she backed away.

“We need to do something first.” She uncorked the brandy, and he warily eyed it. He probably thought of his father whenever she drank, and it must have hurt him to fear she walked the same path. But this bottle wasn’t for drinking.

Brandy glugged as she poured a trail from the clearing to the cottage. She splashed it over the porch, the wall, a window frame. She returned to Ansel and lit a match.

Fire caught the liquor with a floof . It followed the brandy, rolling into the cottage and up the walls. Roaring flames quickly engulfed the dead timbers, bathing Ansel and Gretta in orange light.

She took his hand. They faced the cottage, watching it burn together.

“I’m giving up booze,” she said. “There are these meetings in a library downtown? I’ve, ah. Been going.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“There’s one more thing.” She unclipped the braids from her belt. “I’ll fight witchcraft until I die, but I never want to see another witch again.”

She pitched her trophies into the cottage. The fire swallowed them, releasing the stench of burning hair.

“You worked so hard to collect them,” Ansel said.

“Yeah. And now I’ll work twice as hard on the repellent.” Gretta reached in her pocket and offered him the Eater’s braid.

He shook his head. “I gave it to you.”

“I gave it to you first.” She opened his palm and closed his hand around the brittle, silvery hair. “Whenever you panic or wake up from a bad dream, I want you to remember how burning this felt.”

He considered. Then he cupped her cheek and kissed her.

He fed the braid to the fire, barely sparing it a glance as it burned. He pulled Gretta to him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. He held her so close, her chest ached. But in a good way. For the first time in living memory, Gretta felt…peaceful. The past seemed like shadows now, dark and hostile but no longer able to hurt her.

She was finally safe.

“I love you, Gret,” he said into her hair.

She let out a shaky breath and squeezed him harder.

The flames crackled. Something in the cottage groaned and crashed. Gretta fisted his shirt and summoned the courage he was always raving about.

“Anse?” she said to his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I, um. Love you too.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did.”

For some reason, it was hard to say, but he deserved to hear it. She got on her tiptoes and took his face between her hands. “I said I fucking love you too.”

A grin slowly spread across his lips. He kissed her, then let her hide against his chest again.

“It’s strange,” he said, stroking her hair. “I never believed in happy endings before.”

“Me neither. But here we are.”

As Gretta spoke the last word, the cottage collapsed into burning rubble.

The End