The words hit their mark.
I could feel them digging in.
The guilt.
The old training.
The tiny voice that said, maybe she is right.
Then Wren spoke from the hallway.
“Grandma,” she said softly. “Please don’t yell.”
My mother froze.
Elowen covered her face.
Sylas was not there.
He still had not come back.
That should have surprised no one.
Mr. Gideon folded his newspaper.
“Mrs. Maura,” he said, “I am going to make this very clear because clarity is a gift people rarely appreciate. You may not shame a student in my kitchen for refusing to become your bank.”
My mother’s eyes flashed.
“And who are you to decide what family owes?”
He stood up slowly.
His robe hung crooked.
His hair stuck up on one side.
He looked ridiculous.
He also looked immovable.
“I am a man who learned too late that saving someone from every consequence can become its own kind of harm.”
