Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(39)

Mikey had been downstairs alone with Prentice for two and a half books. No telling what antics he’d get up to.

She quickly walked down the dark hall and was closing on the stairs when she heard the end of something Prentice was saying.

“…Jason and Sally.”

To which Mikey immediately replied, “Of course she would. She lost her mother when she was eight. It isn’t the same, considering her mother slit her wrists, but she still lost her.”

Isabella’s body rocked to a halt and she stood, statue-still, out of sight at the top of the stairs.

She’d never told Prentice about how her mother had died. She wanted to, she’d even rehearsed what to say but she never found the right time.

And, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want him to think bad things about her mother or her and what her mother’s act might make him think about Isabella.

There were bad vibes rolling up the stairs and pounding against Isabella but her mind was blank with panic and her body was numb with fear.

“I’m sorry?” Prentice asked softly.

“You didn’t know?” Mikey replied, then after a long, pregnant moment, he muttered, “Oh my God, you didn’t know.”

There was more silence, more bad vibes rolling and Isabella didn’t move a muscle.

Then Mikey decided he hadn’t yet finished sharing. “She found her, Prentice. Eight years old and Bella found her mother in a bathtub filled with blood.”

Isabella’s mind shut out the rest of the words and she took a step back then another one, automatically seeking retreat.

She ran into something.

She whirled and stared at Jason who was standing behind her in the dark but she could see his face was white as a sheet.

He’d heard.

“Jason,” she whispered, horror saturating her.

“Your Mum died when you were eight?” Jason whispered back.

“Jason,” Isabella repeated, her mind unfocused, unable to think of anything else to say.

“You found her?”

It was a shout, a shout filled with sheer agony and it felt like it tore apart her ears and her heart.

She instantly dropped to a knee and grabbed Jason’s hands as she heard quick footfalls on the stairs.

“Jason, listen to me, it was a long time ago,” she whispered urgently.

“You found her,” Jason repeated and Isabella felt Prentice with them but her eyes were riveted on his son.

“A long time ago, Jason.”

“Your Mum’s dead, like mine.”

She scooted closer, squeezing his hands and whispered, “Honey.”

He shook his hands free but he didn’t run away.

He threw his body into hers, nearly taking her off-balance and his arms closed around her so tight it hurt.

It didn’t hurt her body. It hurt her heart.

Isabella gathered him close.

“You know how it feels,” he mumbled into her neck, his voice thick with unshed tears.

She melted into his ten year old grieving boy’s arms.

“I know how it feels, sweetheart,” she whispered, her hands moving on his back.

“You know how it feels,” he repeated.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Jace, come here, mate,” Prentice said gently from close and Isabella could feel a soft tug pulling Jason’s body from her arms but Jason stayed fix and the tugging stopped.

“Does it still hurt?” Jason asked and Isabella closed her eyes, stopped stroking his back and held onto the boy even tighter.

What she didn’t do was answer.

Jason pulled a little bit away and looked in her eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, he muttered, “It still hurts.”

She should lie. It would make it easier at that moment for both of them.

But he’d eventually know she lied and she didn’t want Jason Cameron to think she was a liar.

Ever.

So she didn’t lie.

Instead, Isabella put her hands to either side of his head, leaned in close and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Jason, but yes, it still hurts.”

He swallowed.

Then he nodded.

Then he pulled away, turned and walked to his room.

Isabella didn’t look at Prentice as she straightened but when she was upright she saw his broad-shouldered back turning into his son’s room.

Slowly, she walked down the stairs. Mikey was standing, face pale as a ghost, in front of the couch.

Isabella wished she felt fury. Instead, she felt nothing but heartache.

When she got close, Mikey asked in a low voice, “Girlie-girl, why didn’t you tell him?”

She shook her head, too weak even to speak.

And besides, what little strength she had she was using to stop herself from weeping.

“Tonight… all my stories… he didn’t…” Mikey stopped and his eyes grew narrow with confusion and sadness. “When you were with him, did you tell him anything?”

She shook her head but this time, she explained.

“When I was here, I wasn’t that girl with sad eyes,” Isabella whispered in a voice that could barely be heard. “When I was with him, I could be free.”

“Oh darling,” Mikey muttered, pulling her in for a close hug and he hugged her for a long time. Then he murmured in her ear, “Walk me to the door, darling.”