I call you a nice guy instead?” He grimaces. “Matt… you’re a good person.” Another face pull. “Okay. You're a smoking hot super-witch. How’s that?”
His strained expression breaks and he seizes my wrists to pull me towards him, planting his lips on mine. “I can be sweet if you need, Amelia,” he murmurs and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “We’ve had a long day—two long days—I want you to rest.”
Something in his expression tells me that’s not the truth and I mentally kick myself for the shyness.
I’ve longed for Matt, dreamed of him wanting me, and now I’ve created a situation where he’s waiting for shy Amelia to tell him what she wants.
39
AMELIA
Mum works in the village; she says this is to support our family income during times our crops aren't in high demand. Dad has a military pension but that doesn't stretch far. We're self-sufficient and need less than a lot of families, so I've always suspected Mum has the same affliction as me—she likes human company.
She's driven the same small silver car for as long as I can remember, and Genevieve jokes she cast a spell to keep the decade-old car running. Dad teased she should use a glamour too, but Mum loves her car, rust and all. The hatchback is always parked on the driveway in front of the garage, and when I see the car is missing, I know Mum is out.
Will Dad be home? He spends a lot of time alone, often in a workshop detached from the house filled with tools for his carpentry. Once he recovered from the accident, our house received a full makeover. He crafted the kitchen cupboards and almost every wooden item in the house; Dad uses magic to carve the detail and I used his teaching to carve the ice sculptures at the Winter Ball.
My bed headboard is etched with flowers to match the bluebells that grows around, and he made dressers too, one each for Genevieve and me between our beds in our shared room. All the wood used from the farm gives our home the feeling that the outside is inside too.
I creep across the pebbled path and around the side of the house, away from the front door and windows that look out over the driveway. Washing hangs on a long clothesline around the back, sheets and towels flapping in the strong breeze. As a large blue sheet blows upwards, I spot Genevieve.
She's sitting on a bench that Dad made years ago, cradling a mug in her hands. Genevieve's long dark hair is loose around her face and she's wearing a simple blue dress, slender legs crossed and feet bare. When we were younger, I hated that my sister was taller and more elegant than I am, but came to accept our differences didn't take away our similarities or closeness. She has an open and loving heart that some take advantage of, and she's always been there for me.
I haven't seen Genevieve since the winter holidays, which feels a lifetime away, and as I cautiously approach, I'm relieved to see she has more strength in her posture, and has regained the weight she lost over the summer.
“Amelia!” The tea in Genevieve's mug sloshes as she jerks in surprise. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?”
Her reaction isn't what I expected from somebody with a missing sister. “Um. I lost my phone.”
“The place might be stuck in the Dark Ages, but the academy has phones,” she says and laughs. “Are you just home for the weekend?”
Nobody has told my family?
“I wanted to see my big sister. I missed you, Gen.” A lump I didn't expect forms in my throat and my voice breaks.
Genevieve hastily places the mug on the bench beside her and stands. I shake my head at her as she walks towards me, but she engulfs me in a hug before I can protest. Her arms are stronger than the last time we hugged and Genevieve's affection reminds me that I'm still her little sister Amelia, even though I'm struggling and living in a different world.
“What's happening?” she whispers, still holding me, and her familiar floral perfume pulls me further back to the past. “Why are you really here?”
Before the threatened tears start, I pull away. “I need your help, Gen, but I also need you not to judge me.”
Her brown eyes widen. “What have you done?”
“Is Dad around?” I ask and back towards the washing on the line, as