Morgan had the grace to look a little embarrassed, but Sybil’s eyes just narrowed. “You were naive, as usual,” she said, keeping her voice low. “You think magic is all rainbows and kittens and braiding friendship bracelets, but we are fighting to protect our way of life after Mother shackled us to a vampire, and this person”—she didn’t bother trying to hide her disgust—“is as dangerous as she is unstable.”
Both Morgan and Lily opened their mouths to speak, but I beat them to it. “Oh, I assure you, I’m far more dangerous than I am unstable,” I said to Sybil.
That must have come out more threatening than I’d intended, because all three of them went silent, staring at me with wide eyes. I took my napkin off my lap and put it on the table, taking a long look at Morgan and then Sybil. “Your sister and brother are the best friends I’ve made since I came home from Iraq,” I said, in as calm a voice as I could manage. “I’m so grateful they’re in my life. Now Lily is trying to find a way for us all to coexist together, and maybe that is naive, but I’m still proud of her. You should be too.” Sybil started to roll her eyes, and I went on, “And if you can’t be proud, you should at least be grateful to have her. I’d give anything to have my sister.”
The three of them all started to speak at the same time—Lily to apologize to me, and, well, I didn’t care what the other two were saying. Loudly, intentionally, I slammed my fist down on the table, causing the silverware to rattle, the three women at my table to jump, and most of the restaurant to turn and stare at me.
I ignored all of them. “Since that’s not an option, or at least, not an option I’m willing to take, I’ll settle for doing anything I can for her daughter. If that means working for Maven, I’ll do it, and if it means playing nice with you stuck-up witches, well, I can do that too.” I picked up my purse, dug out a twenty and a ten, and dropped them by my plate. “Thanks for tea. Gotta go meet Simon.” I kissed Lily’s cheek and marched out without looking back.
Chapter 20
I called Magic Beans to check in with Maven, as instructed, but she wasn’t in yet. It was a little early, but I drove straight to the meeting spot I’d arranged with Simon, feeling simultaneously angry, embarrassed, and maybe a little wistful. It had been stupid of me to try and make nice with Morgan and Sybil; I shouldn’t have let Lily talk me into it.
At the same time, in a weird way, the whole nasty scene at the Teahouse had made me miss Sam even more. Morgan and Sybil might have been assholes, but they were also trying to protect their little brother and sister. It reminded me of what I’d lost—and, somewhat ridiculously, got me thinking about the few times Sam and I had fought, really fought. It had always been over stuff like this—one of us wanting to keep the other safe, certain we knew the best way to do it. I hadn’t wanted her to go out drinking the night before the SATs. She hadn’t wanted me to join the girl’s hockey team because she thought I would get hurt, and it would scare boys away from me.
Okay, she’d been right on both counts. The point was, I could kind of see where Morgan and Sybil were coming from, even if I didn’t like it. But I had no idea how to show them I wasn’t dangerous.
Yeah, it would probably be a little easier if I was more confident about that last part.
But setting all of that aside, there was still the matter of Sybil’s suggestion that I was ruining Simon’s relationship with his girlfriend. That hurt me, in a way that pierced my usual defensive anger and shot straight to a place of real anxiety. Had this come from them, or from Tracy? Could any part of it be true? Quinn was the person in my heart, I was sure of that. He was the one I thought about, the one I wanted to go to when I felt upset. But at the same time . . . hadn’t I been thinking more about Simon since Atwood’s barn? Didn’t I worry about him more?
Was I just more invested in his welfare because I’d saved his life? Or could it be that my magic was drawing me to him, or him to me, now that he’d crossed the line and come back? For about the fortieth time, the enormity of what I’d done to Simon struck me. I’d brought him back from the dead, and I had no idea what that might mean for either of us long-term.
Unfortunately, I reached the rendezvous point long before coming up with any answers. Simon’s Chevy was already parked at the curb when I pulled up, so I pulled in behind him. I’d intended to go straight to his door so he wouldn’t have to do any unnecessary walking, but he’d already gotten out of his car and was limping toward me when I climbed out. He wore a slightly beat-up-looking backpack, the kind with a cross-strap over the chest to secure the weight for long hikes. He seemed to be leaning a little heavier on his cane, though that might have been my imagination.
“Whoa,” Simon said when I stepped out of the car. “Where are you coming from?”
I looked down at myself, remembering the dress. Right. “Tea with your sisters,” I said sweetly. Simon’s mouth dropped open, which made me laugh. “Did the doctor give you the okay to drive?”
“Only when I’m not on the painkillers,” he explained. Ah. That might explain why he looked in rougher shape than before.
He was obviously about to ask me questions, so I held up a finger. “Hang on a second, I’m gonna change.”
“Where—oh.” Simon turned his back as I climbed into the backseat with my bag of clothes. I heard him whistling purposefully, to protect my modesty, and laughed again. The sports bra and panties I was wearing provided more coverage than most bikinis, but who was I to stop Simon from being a gentleman?