Page 45 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

thirty-one

There’d been some knowing looks at the dinner table that night.

Tia had clearly been embarrassed but Henry felt like strutting like a warlock asshole and giving everyone a high five.

She’d trusted him to please her, to be in control.

And the result had been in-fucking-credible. Even with the burnt curtains.

But with the haze of sex dissipating like morning mist, his mind kept returning to the why behind it all.

Tia had been distraught when she’d come back from town, enough that she’d settled into her default mode and attacked.

He’d made her a promise, so he wouldn’t ask why, but the idea of her hurting made him furious enough to burn down Siddeley’s woods.

And then there was the other thing.

Leave. That’s what your dad wants, right? Do what you did before and leave. Stop pretending you’re going to choose differently.

He’d lain next to her after she’d fallen asleep, the words turning over in his head, an itch he couldn’t satisfy. He needed to know what she’d meant. He needed to know what choice he’d made.

Dinner was the usual, Lady Mildred insulting Chrichton and Sawyer, the former miserable and the latter cracking wise.

Siddeley shifting in sheer embarrassment.

Mina and Annaliese discussing dresses for the Snowflake thing.

He’d played his role, affectionate and charming, all the while buzzing with impatience to get Tia alone.

His chance came after dinner, when he volunteered them to walk Rudy. Now snow churned up in the Old English sheepdog’s wake as he bounded ahead, Henry and Tia following across Snowman field.

“This afternoon,” he said into the quiet, as they reached the halfway point.

He felt her tense, her steps stutter. He didn’t stop, figuring she’d be more comfortable if they kept walking.

“What you said about my dad. About me. Making a choice.” A small indrawn breath from her and suddenly his heart was racing. “What did you mean?”

“Henry…”

“Please.” The same word she’d used. The same desperation. “I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ve got to know.”

The sky was a sweep of indigo pockmarked by stars. One blinked at him as he stared up, hands tight in his coat pockets. “Why did we break up?”

Instead of answering, she twisted to the right, heading toward the snowman corpses. Rudy barreled into one with a delighted woof, scattering chunks of snow. She watched it rain down, tugging her bottom lip with her teeth.

He didn’t dare say anything as he waited.

“Your dad’s never liked me,” she finally said, softer than the breath that plumed white before disappearing. “He’s always had someone else in mind for you. More…I don’t know…biddable.”

“Biddable?”

Her smile was sad. “You might’ve noticed I’m not a typical Higher society witch.” Pain flashed over her face before she cleared her throat. “He wanted you to focus on the company, on him. I divided your attention. Demanded it, really.”

He knew this. Memories of him and her going around and around on it, never agreeing.

“You didn’t care. Not at first, but slowly it got to you. You started to change. Just a little, bits and pieces, but you started to put his opinions first. Started to put the work first.”

Something dark moved through his chest. “So, I worked more. How does that lead to a breakup?”

She hunched her shoulders, refusing to look at him. “It wasn’t about work. It was about him. Your need to prove something—and that meant choosing him over me.”

“No.”

“You don’t even remember that night.”

“ What night?”

Her jaw worked. “The night in the gardens when you finally chose him over me.”

He remembered enough. She was the most important person in his life. How could she even think that he’d—

The memory reared up and swallowed him.

She faced him in his parents’ gardens, all storm-fried fury and determination.

“You have to help,” she demanded, jabbing a finger at him. “We need you to help, Henry.”

Night fell around them like a warm cloak, perfumed with his mom’s roses. He held back a sigh, irritated that she’d dragged him out for this. He loved how passionate Tia was but it also made her way too dramatic. She was twenty-one now; she needed to grow up.

“Emma’ll be fine,” he said with all the patience he could. “It’s just gossip.”

Her eyes flashed. “You know what gossip can do.”

“It’s just words.” He checked his watch and winced.

His dad had said he’d be back from the office at seven and it was five to.

He’d expect to see the reports he’d entrusted Henry with.

He couldn’t let him down, not when he was finally being treated like a partner.

He glanced up to see Tia glaring at him.

An answering emotion sizzled into life. “What now?”

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, too sweetly, and he felt his temples begin to pound. “Am I distracting you? Is my life not important enough?”

“Of course it is,” he said between his teeth. “But you’re exaggerating everything. Yeah, it sucks Bastian left but he’ll probably be back in a couple weeks. Maybe he needed some space.”

She drew back, looking like he’d punched her. “Like you do, you mean?”

For fuck’s sake. He hardened his jaw. “Tia, I don’t have time for this. My dad—”

“Of course, the great Dick has to come first. What was I thinking?”

His temper simmered and he dropped the patience. “C’mon, Tia. You know how hard he’s been riding me.”

“Then tell him to shove it.”

“I don’t want to.”

She laughed, the sound bitter. “Right. It’s only me you’re happy to disappoint.”

He dragged his hands down his face, much too stressed for this. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Something sparked in her face and she stepped forward, reaching for his hand.

“I want you to stand up for Emma at the next party, and all the parties after. Tell the haters to shut the fuck up. Then you can work for two weeks straight, I won’t say a word about it, but please. Be there for her, me, for once.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “I’ve always been there for you.”

She gave him a look that called him a liar. “When was the last date we went on where you weren’t late or didn’t have your head buried in a data crystal? Hell, when was our last date?”

“It’s a difficult time,” he deflected, irritated as he tried to remember when he’d last arranged something for her. More irritated that she had a point. “Why can’t you think of me for a change?”

It was old ground and they kept wearing the same paths through it. He didn’t get why. A year ago, they’d been happy. Now all they seemed to do was hurt each other. He hated it and he was so fucking tired of it. But he could never let her go. She was it for him.

“Look,” he said, because of that simple truth, reaching for her hand. He stared at features he’d grown up loving, softening. “I know I’ve been busy working on this project for my dad. But I can’t cause any scandal right now.”

Her face hardened and she pulled at her hands.

He held on. “Give me a little more time and then I swear I’ll back you and Emma up. I’ll be there for you.”

“You keep saying that.” She bit her lip, looking away. When she turned back, his heart kicked at the sight of tears. “Please, Henry. Please. Do this for me.”

It fucking killed him to see her cry. He wanted to gather her close, promise the world to her. But…his dad, the project. He was so close.

He knuckled a tear away. “Just give me a little more time,” he repeated.

Frustration bloomed in his chest as she knocked him away, something darker, more painful, in her eyes.

Something like panic stirred, an urge to take back his words, but he refused.

She had to be reasonable. His reassurances fell on deaf ears as she shook her head and stalked off into the night…

Henry opened his eyes, blinking. His chest was cracked open, heart sore. She’d never come back. She’d walked away and left him, them, in the dust.

His breathing was labored as she looked back at him in a field of white snow. No idea his memories had all locked back into place.

He cleared his throat. “You’re saying,” he managed, drinking her in with the dizzying perspective of eight years longing for her, confused and angry and bitter. “You’re saying my dad broke us up?”

How did a person look the same and yet completely different?

He cataloged everything, the slight wrinkle of her nose, the flattening of her lips.

Lips he’d kissed again like he’d yearned to every night, even when he’d tried the first few years to forget about her with other witches.

Nothing had worked; it had only made him feel hollow, and he’d stopped trying.

Remembering their breakup, the years after, didn’t change much, but it sharpened his view. Before, he’d wanted her, felt the ache, the joy of those simple early memories. Now, living so long without her, he burned to touch her. Hold her. And never let her go.

He watched as she struggled for words. “Do you know what it’s like to be the other person in a relationship?

Because that’s what it felt like. Dates got canceled, calls ended, I got left alone at parties because there were more important people you needed to speak to.

” He opened his mouth and she interrupted, somewhat pointed.

“You canceled on me my last birthday before we ended. For a business trip. And no, you didn’t portal back with another pointless glass rose. ”

He froze. He…had. He’d reasoned it away with his work being important, that she should understand. Her words from the other day lingered. I stopped being the one you wanted to show up for .

He’d made her feel that. Just like her parents.

Sickness congested in his throat.

“It came to a head when I begged you to help me with something that was important to me. You kept saying you would but work took priority. Again and again. And again. Finally, I got it.”

He blinked, almost scared to ask. “Got what?”

She held herself very still. “I wasn’t important enough.”