Page 32 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

twenty-one

The conversation had gone very differently once Henry was out of sight.

Tia didn’t see him when she left their room. She could’ve asked the locator cloud hovering in the hall, but instead she headed outside. She realized her mistake when she hit snow and her nipples froze.

Summoning a thin heat barrier, she wrapped her arms around herself and stood on the terrace, looking out to the woods where the snowball fight had happened days ago. The memory prompted a small smile but it didn’t last long.

Act like a Hightower .

Her jaw firmed and she squeezed her arms tighter.

A woof of delight from behind brought a weird relief, and she managed to half turn before Rudy bulleted into her legs.

She staggered one step, swearing under her breath, but couldn’t find the heart to scold him.

Wearing a red Santa bandanna, his hair flopping into his eyes, the dog panted, wriggled and danced around her feet.

Nobody could look at the giant baby and not smile. She did so, bending to fuss over him for a few seconds.

He licked her hand over and over before running in a circle, then to the end of the terrace. He paused, looking back at her, wagging his tail.

“What the hell.”

They walked without much direction, the dog gamboling ahead.

Footprints marked the snow and crisscrossed hers, leading off to the right.

She deliberately went left, heading into virgin snow.

She wasn’t in the mood to “people” right now.

Her boots left fresh tracks as she trudged on, her gaze watching each mark she left behind.

If only it was that easy to leave her mark in business.

She and Rudy crossed into the gardens, where bushes wore their frost like jewelry, and trees extended bare branches covered with twinkle lights and tiny silver bells. The bells blew in the breeze, a soothing lullaby for her jangled nerves.

She wiped off a bench under one tree and sat, ignoring the cold under her butt, and stared broodingly at a figure of a nutcracker.

Her mom wasn’t happy with the progress. Specifically, her progress.

“Spending time baking and drinking wine and singing carols isn’t the way a Hightower does business,” Gloria had scolded.

“Don’t forget this debacle is of your making, Tia.

You need to be the one to fix it if you’re ever going to win back the company’s trust. Our trust. We can’t afford another mistake.

Stop fooling around and for once act like a Hightower. ”

She wasn’t sure why she was brooding; she’d long ago accepted her role as the family disappointment. It was different when she could be in Chicago with her girls, at the bar where she could relax and feel part of a strong team.

Staying so close to home these past few months, dealing with the constant suggestions and tiny criticisms, had been wearing her down, like a pencil shaved to a nub.

She knew her mom loved her but she’d already been left once for not being enough.

She’d tried and failed. Rebelled, and that hadn’t made it better.

At this point, she had to wonder if she’d ever win in her mom’s eyes.

Not to sound like a kid, but it was unfair. All her mom saw was Tia doing her own thing, playing around. Well, Tia had tried it the Hightower way and Siddeley had fled in the opposite direction. But Gloria didn’t want to hear that, always thinking she knew best.

Tia’s lips curved in an unamused smile. Apple, tree, she supposed.

Footsteps heralded someone’s approach and Rudy lifted his nose from where he’d been snuffling. He barked in greeting, charging forward into Henry as he appeared from a copse of trees.

He caught the dog’s head inches from his crotch. “Sorry, boy,” he greeted him, ruffling Rudy’s fur. “Tia’s going to need that in working order.”

She didn’t laugh. “Can’t I get any peace from you?” The words bit harder than the frost as she banded her arms around her body.

The smile slid off his face. “Want me to go?”

Fuck. Why did he have to be nice?

She let her head fall back, blowing out the annoyance. “You might want to,” she admitted, dropping her arms. “I’m in a mood.”

“So, what else is new?” He unzipped his coat and shrugged out of it, coming forward to slip it around her shoulders.

It was warm and smelled like him, and she hated that the gesture melted her. “Big, strong man needs to remember I can heat the air around myself. You need this more than I do.”

He shrugged. “I could use the practice. And you looked like you needed it.”

She let it slide, especially since the coat smelled good. “Whatever,” she muttered, aware she sounded about fifteen. “Thanks.”

He propped himself against a tree opposite her, crossing his arms. Trying to hide his shivers, probably. Stupid man.

Kind man.

“So, what’s got you in a mood?” he asked to the tune of twenty silver bells.

She kicked her legs out, eyeing the toes of her patent leather boots and their skinny heels. “Things.”

“Like?”

She didn’t want to get into it. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure why she’d told him. That was asking for questions. For concern.

“Your mom?” he guessed. He patted Rudy when the dog shoved his head against his hand. “She’s not happy we haven’t got the investment yet.”

Tia shrugged.

“My dad isn’t, either. But he probably can’t complain as easily as your mom. Bad manners to scold the amnesiac.”

She made a noncommittal noise.

He concentrated on Rudy. “Me and my dad… I get the sense things haven’t changed much in the past few years. Our relationship, I mean. Not exactly watching football and drinking beer every Sunday?”

She rolled her neck irritably, trying to loosen the tension locking her muscles. “I don’t know. You always seemed like you got on well enough to me.” Words, snide ones, trembled on her tongue, barely held back.

He noticed. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…nothing.”

Irritation formed a line between his eyebrows. “Don’t do that. Make a pointed comment and then not explain. It’s annoying.”

“I can do what I want. Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean you’re entitled to my private thoughts.”

He stared at her for a full five seconds. “You are in a mood.”

Her skin was too tight and she rolled her shoulders now, trying to ease it. Under his stare, she hissed out a breath. “Look, your dad is just a touchy subject for me. All right?”

She could see the questions in his eyes but to his credit, he swallowed them. “All right.” He settled harder on the tree, shivering a little. “So, Gloria’s pissed we haven’t got the money. Is that all that’s put you in this charming mood?”

“Have I ever told you that you ask too many questions?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Ah, damn it. She was killing it today. “Sorry.”

He lifted a shoulder, easy to forgive. “Without memories, questions are all I have. C’mon, help a poor amnesiac out. You know, since you’re the one responsible.” He paused, curiosity tilting his expression. “You never told me how that happened.”

Tia was absolutely not going into the competition. Which she’d lost . “Mom was reminding me not to say anything to my friends about this whole thing,” she said instead, pulling a different string to steer him away from the topic. “Sore subject, old ground, since she doesn’t really approve of them.”

“What’s wrong with your friends?”

“Nothing. They’re perfect. But,” Tia relented with a sigh, watching her breath drift in the frosty air, “Emma’s family is barely scraping Higher status and Leah’s a human.

She has permission from the High Family to know about magic and witchkind, but still, not exactly Legacy friendship material.

” Tia scrunched up her nose. “Mom’s always had a thing about behaving like a Hightower, so in her mind, my status could be lowered by hanging out with them. Crap, but that’s society, I guess.”

He hummed. “She liked me, though, right? I mean, what’s not to like?”

If looks could skewer, he’d have been on a barbecue.

“Anyway,” she continued as he only grinned. “I hate lying to them and she knows it. I get it. I screwed up and it’s my responsibility to fix it. I agreed not to tell them in case it leaked. But I hate it. I hate lying. I never see the point.”

“Nobody would accuse you of being anything but direct,” he agreed. He crossed his ankles, propping more of his upper body on the tree. “You think they’d tell anyone?”

“No. But I promised and your word should mean something.” Ironic that she’d say that to him when he’d once made her all kinds of vows. She ran her tongue along her teeth. “It just feels like there’s this distance now.”

“Because of a half-truth?”

“Maybe it was there already?” She shook her head, slumping. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s fine.”

For a second, frustration beat in his jaw. She thought he might push, was already annoyed about it, but instead he asked, “How long have you been friends?”

She wanted to be alone with her mood but clearly, that wasn’t happening. “Since childhood with Emma. Leah, it must be six, seven years. And yes,” she said, anticipating his question, “they’ve met you.”

“Did they like me?”

“No,” she lied.

He grinned. “So much for being honest. Of course they liked me. I won you over.”

“I was bored.”

“Did I like them?” he asked, ignoring her.

She played with the zipper on his coat. “Nobody hates Leah. It’d be like hating a puppy. And Emma…” Her sentence soured. “You said you did.”

There was nothing but the sound of Rudy snuffling in the snow, a cheerful bark of discovery, then him rolling in something.

Henry straightened in slow increments, like he was trying not to startle a wounded animal. “Something happened between us. Emma and me.”

Tia sent telekinesis into a strand of twinkle lights, twisting them around. “Leave it alone, Henry.”

“Is it why we broke up?” he persisted. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But why—?”

The lights whipped off the branch as she leaped to her feet. “ I don’t want to talk about it. ”