Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“She didn’t just name the house after him—the house is him,” Rath corrected me. “As much as possible, anyway.”
“Wait…so you’re saying I’m living inside my Grandfather?” I stopped eating my cinnamon roll again—the idea was deeply creepy. “I mean, can he see me all the time? What about when I’m taking a bath?”
“No, no—it’s not like that!” Rath hastened to assure me. “Morris is only semi-sentient—he’s a part of your Grandfather—the part that loved and cherished your Grandmother and your family. He’s not spying on you or anything—it’s more like he’s watching over you…protecting you.”
“The same way you’ve been watching over him—I mean protecting the house—since my Grandma, er, faded?” I asked.
Rath nodded.
“She asked me before she faded to keep an eye on the house. I think she knew that eventually you would be drawn back to Hidden Hollow—your family roots go deep in the magical community here. I think one of your ancestors was one of the founders of the town.”
“Well, thank you for protecting the house and keeping it up all this time, until I could get here,” I said. “Even if you did scare the life out of me before you knew who I was.” I shook my head. “You can be really scary when you want to be.”
He nodded gravely.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just very protective of the people and things I care about and I cared about your Grandma a lot. The house is part of her in a way…and you’re part of her legacy too. So don’t be offended, but I’ll probably be watching out for you—at least until you find your magic.”
“I’m not offended,” I said and felt my cheeks getting hot for some reason. “I…I think it’s nice to have someone watching over me. I’ve been on my own since my Mom died and it’s been really lonely. I mean, not like you have to keep me company or anything,” I said quickly. “I just meant—”
“I’d love to keep you company, Sarah.” Rath’s voice was a low, interested rumble and his golden eyes were suddenly half-lidded as he looked across the table at me.
“Oh, um…” I felt myself blushing even harder.
Guys hardly ever flirted with me. Mostly because I’m plus-sized, I think but also because if they ever even tried, I found it impossible to say a single word in return.
With Rath, my words flowed like water instead of freezing in my throat like ice cubes that wouldn’t melt. I thought again of the warm, sexual tingle I’d felt when I shook his hand.
“Hey—did I embarrass you?” he murmured.
I looked up to meet his eyes and tried to get control of myself.
“No, not really,” I lied. “It’s just…I’m not used to talking to guys—that’s all. I’m not used to talking to anyone, really,” I added.
“Right—because of your condition. Your, uh…”
“Selective Mutisim,” I supplied.
“Which makes you unable to talk to most people?” he asked, clearly trying to understand.
“It makes me unable to talk to anyone,” I admitted. “You’re the first person I’ve been able to really talk to since my Mom died two years ago. I mean, other than my cat, but Sebastian can’t exactly talk back, you know?”
Then I bit my lip—there I went, over-sharing again. How pathetic could I be? The minute I found someone I could talk to, I spilled my saddest secrets in his lap!
“I shouldn’t have told you that,” I said, using my fork to push the remains of my cinnamon roll around my plate.
“Why not?” He frowned in honest confusion. “Look, I’m glad you’re able to talk to me. And kind of surprised too, considering how we met,” he added.
“It surprises me too,” I admitted. I was relieved he didn’t seem to think I was some lonely, pathetic spinster who couldn’t talk to anyone but her cat. “Usually whenever I’m around someone I don’t know, my words all get stuck in my throat—right here.” I put my fingers to my throat. “And they just won’t come out.”
“So what causes Selective Mutism?” Rath asked, looking interested.
I shrugged.
“They used to think it was some terrible, traumatic event in a child’s early life that caused it. Now a lot of experts say it’s just a kind of extreme social anxiety. Though to be honest, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe my problem might have to do with magic. At least, that’s what Goody Albright told me.”
“Oh, you’ve already met Goody Albright?” he asked. “Were you able to talk to her, too?”
I shook my head.
“No—she pretty much did all the talking. But I carry a notepad and pen with me all the time, so I was able to ask some questions. She thinks my magic is bound and that the same, er, spell that’s binding it is also binding my voice.”
I didn’t mention the pointed look Goody Albright had directed at my lap or the way she’d said that “other things” must be bound as well. Though it did make me wonder—if I was able to unbind myself, would that mean I could finally have sex?