Unhooked(5)

“I think he was,” I tell her. Because I don’t know how I’m supposed to explain that there’s always something in each of the places we’ve moved to. Rows of stones carved with protective runes. Lines of salt or iron nails buried at the four corners of the property. Crystals hanging from the windows or, this time, lights that must always remain burning.

“I guess we should start bringing up the bags,” I say, glancing at Olivia.

“He’s not going to get them for us?” she asks, and her confused expression is almost enough to lighten my mood.

I shake my head. “It shouldn’t take us too long. The rest won’t be here until tomorrow anyway.”

“Right,” Olivia says, shooting me a concerned look. I give her a subtle nod to let her know I want a second to talk to my mom before I follow. “I’ll just get started then,” she tells me, heading toward the stairs.

I hesitate, waiting to see what my mom will do. But she only seems to have eyes for the fairy wall. It’s like I’m not even there.

“We could still go back, you know,” I say, taking a step toward her. “We could get you some help. I’m sure Olivia’s mom knows someone at the hospital who could—”

My mom glances at me, and the look on her face makes the words die in my throat. “We’re safe now,” she whispers. “Everything will be fine.”

“We were safe in Westport,” I say with more bitterness than I mean to let slip. “I was happy there.”

My mom frowns, like she doesn’t really understand why I’m pushing her on this. “I know you were, but . . .” She doesn’t finish her thought, but her brows pinch together. “This is the right thing to do,” she says finally. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

This is where I’m supposed to say, Of course I trust you. But I can’t. Maybe in a few weeks, after the rawness of being torn away from the life I’d dared to make for myself has eased, but not yet. “This won’t be the last time, will it?” I ask instead.

My mom has never said any of our moves would be the last. She’s never even pretended, and I’ve never asked—only hoped. But this move is different. This move doesn’t feel like me and my mom against the world. This move feels like me and my mom against each other. This time, I need to know.

She gives me a wobbly sort of smile, and in that moment I understand Olivia was right. If I stay with my mom, my future is destined to be a series of never-ending moves. It will be a life without any true home or any lasting friendships. And if I leave? If, once I’m eighteen and legally free to go, I walk away? I’ll lose the only family I have. Because my mother will never stop moving. Not as long as she believes there are monsters chasing us.

When I start to turn away, she catches my hand. “Gwen,” she says, turning my name into a plea, like she understands where my thoughts have gone. She lets go of my hand long enough to take a bracelet from her own wrist and slip it onto mine. “You’re nearly grown, you know,” she says, brushing my damp hair back from my face. “It’s time you have this.”

I pull my arm away from her and examine the bracelet. It’s one I’ve never seen her go without—blue-gray stones almost the exact color of her eyes. They aren’t quite round, like pearls, but they are smooth and almost translucent. When I was little, I used to love running my fingers over the cool, wobbly stones as I counted them.

“You don’t have to,” I say, because I’m not sure I want this. It feels too much like a bribe. Here, have this bit of glass and forget all the things I’m pulling you away from. All the things you’re leaving behind.

“Take it,” she insists. “Your father gave it to me, and now I’m giving it to you.”

“My father?” I glance up at her, surprised. She’s never told me that about the bracelet.

“He wanted me to keep you safe, Gwen,” she says, which is the only explanation she has ever given me for anything when it comes to my father. As far as explanations go, it stopped being enough a long time ago.

“If he wanted me safe, he shouldn’t have left,” I toss back.

My mom’s face pinches into a scowl, and her whole body goes rigid. “He didn’t want to leave,” she says. “He did it to protect us. To protect you.”

Of course. Because it’s always been my fault that the love of her life left.

I start to pull off the bracelet, but she stops me by putting her hand over mine. “No, it’s yours now. Don’t ever take it off. Promise me.”

Not a gift, then—a shackle. Another burden I’m supposed to carry for her. I frown but don’t argue. There’s no point in it.

Olivia finds us locked in uneasy silence when she returns with one of her carry-ons and my duffel. “Everything okay?” She glances at me for the answer.

“Fine,” my mom replies. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“I brought up your bag,” Liv tells me.

“Thanks,” I tell her, glad for the excuse to turn away from my mom. The bracelet feels so much heavier on my wrist than the small stones should feel.

“I suppose I should help with the rest,” my mom says to no one in particular.

When my mom’s finally gone, Olivia glances at me. In her expression I can see the questions she wants to ask, but she hands me the bag instead. “Rain stopped,” she tells me. “Want to go for a run?”