Three Times Burned: A Paranormal Fantasy (Remington Hart Book 3)

by H. Anne Henry

  When Thursday came around, I wondered if he was still up to coming with me to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family. There were no excuses to be had—all three pawnshops were closed that day and night, and while we were all technically on call, the Amasai were taking it easy on rotation that night. Considering demons didn’t observe man-made holidays, there was still a good chance some of us would see action, despite it being a time of giving thanks. But there was no solid reason for Creed to break his commitment to going unless he flat didn’t want to go.

  I pulled two coffee mugs out of the cupboard and filled mine as far as I could with room for creamer. About the time I finished stirring, Creed came into the kitchen, still sleepy-eyed and groggy. With his tousled wavy hair, it was usually one of my favorite looks on him, but not so in that moment. Though he had made every effort to rest and I had even heard him breathing the deep, even rhythm of sleep, the dark circles under his eyes told on his inability to settle down. His grogginess was from this lack of respite rather than a result of us pulling an all morning sheet-tangling lovemaking session.

  And that hit me right in the gut.

  “Hey there. Coffee?” I asked.

  “Hey, sugar. Yes, please,” he murmured.

  I poured coffee into the other mug I had pulled down, added just a hint of sugar and left it black how he liked it. He joined me at the counter and gave me a gentle kiss on the side of my neck.

  “Sorry I slept so late,” he said. “We’re not gonna be late to your mom’s, are we?”

  I lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and handed him the coffee. “Don’t worry about it—I just got up not long ago myself. We have a couple hours still, so plenty of time.”

  I wanted to ask him how he had slept, what plan of action he had settled on, but didn’t risk frightening away any and all conversation by delving deeper than pleasantries. What the hell, I was happy just knowing he still intended to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. That was a start.

  “Are we taking anything that we need to prepare?” Creed asked.

  “No, I picked up rolls from Miss Ginger’s yesterday, so we’re all set,” I told him. “I would offer to make us something to eat, but I planned on saving room, if you know what I mean.”

  He smiled. Not one of his dazzlers, but for a moment the clouds cleared and the sun shone.

  “I know exactly what you mean. Solid strategy.”

  I didn’t have long to linger, since actually washing, drying, and fixing my hair would take time, and I didn’t want to be late. But when the silence stretched out between us—me uncertain of what I should and shouldn’t bring up, Creed with more on his mind than was good for him—I used getting ready as an excuse to bug out even sooner than I had intended.

  “Listen, I wanted to get dressed up for the occasion, so I’m gonna go get started,” I told him. “But if you need anything…”

  “I know where to find you,” he finished with another small smile.

  It took every bit as long as I thought it would to get my hair into nicely styled waves, complete with the appropriate products and even hairspray. Still, by the time I finished with it, my make-up, and got my clothes together, I was pleased to have put in the effort. In a dark red blouse with black wool trousers and nice high heels, I didn’t look ready to hunt demons and hellhounds like I normally did.

  Nevermind that the higher rise waistband of the pants was the perfect place to stash my handgun.

  Or that the crucifix I always wore hung beautifully with the neckline of the blouse.

  Creed was dapper in his dark rinse jeans and a black sweater, his springtime mountain scent extra tempting to my senses since he was fresh from the shower. His gaze lingered on me with an appreciation I was glad to see hadn’t evaporated with his mental burdens.

  “You look beautiful,” he told me.

  “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

  We kept the conversation light on the way to Westview, only discussing how the entire SUV smelled of perfectly baked bread courtesy of Miss Ginger’s, how nice the landscape looked bathed in autumn oranges and yellows, and how Creed was looking forward to finally meeting my mom and her husband, Hadden.

  Neither Jocelyn’s car nor Dylan’s truck were outside when we arrived at my mom’s house, so we were the first to get there. Creed parked his Escalade in the driveway and came around to open my door for me and help with the pink and white striped bakery box.

  My mom greeted us at the front door, the inviting aroma of home cooking wafting out as she waved us inside.

  “Come on in… I’m so glad to see both of you!”

  “Hi, Mom. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  She wrapped me in a tight embrace and commented on how she liked the red blouse I wore before turning to Creed and offering her hand.

  “You must be Creed. Welcome.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, accepting her hand with both of his own. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” she smiled. “Looking forward to getting to know you better.”

  When Creed looked at me like a deer in headlights, she rescued him from his momentary panic.

  “Don’t worry, hon. Remi has already told me all about your background and you won’t find any judgement here.”

  “Uh,” Creed stuttered, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Thank you. I’m glad there’s honesty between us and we won’t have to sidestep it.”

  My petite mother smiled up at him and patted his hand. “Both of you come in and make yourselves comfortable. Hadden is just finishing up in the kitchen, and Jocelyn and Dylan should be here any moment.”

  We didn’t have to wait long for my brother and Joss, which I was grateful for if for no other reason than to save Creed from feeling the need to crawl under the table and hide.

  They joined us in the living room, hugs and cheerful chatter filling the space. Hadden came out from the kitchen to announce dinner was ready, pleased that he had it all cooked and organized on time.

  My mom had decorated and table-scaped the dining room in an elegant fall theme with candles here and there along with her best place settings. She seemed proud to show off her knack for setting the scene, and Jocelyn praised her good taste.

  We all took our places around the table; Mom and Hadden at the two ends, Creed and I facing Joss and Dylan on each side. There was pleasant small talk as we passed around side dishes of herbed mashed potatoes and cornbread stuffing, among other things—many, many other things. Hadden carved the turkey and made sure everyone got the exact slices they wanted.

  “I know,” he said when we were all finished filling our plates. “Let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for.” When we all giggled, he smiled. “It’s cheesy, I know, but it’s important we celebrate the real reason for the holiday. I’ll start—I’m giving thanks for this house and everyone in it today, the ability to put together a splendid meal, and most of all… my brilliant and beautiful wife.”

  My mom beamed at him across the table, but it was Dylan who looked like he was about to burst. He allowed our mom her moment to bask in her husband’s praise, then spoke up.

  “Me next.” He grinned and turned to Jocelyn. “It’s you I’m thankful for, and I want to give thanks for you every day, for the rest of my life.”

  He left his chair and got down on one knee, producing a glimmering diamond ring from his shirt pocket. Joss gasped before he popped the question, the tears in her eyes rivaling the sparkle of the ring. The rest of us held our breath in rapt anticipation.

  “Jocelyn Marie Benton, will you do me the most incredible honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Yes! Oh my goodness, yes.”

  They both got to their feet, and he slid the ring onto her finger before they hugged each other and shared a sweet kiss. Joss brushed tears from her cheeks before she sat back down and tried to catch her breath.

  “Well, that was just beautiful,” our mom said, tears in her own eyes. “And a most welcome surprise.”


  “I was afraid to say anything,” Dylan said. “I kept the whole thing to myself so I wouldn’t slip up and give away the secret.”

  I smiled. “That was a wise plan.”

  We didn’t keep up with the round-robin of what we were all thankful for—anything after Dylan’s proposal would pale in comparison. But I had plenty of things I would give thanks for, even in the midst of the turmoil with Creed. Not the least of which was gaining a sister.

  Chapter 10

  I stood at the sink with my mom, drying dishes with a kitchen towel as she washed and handed them to me. It seemed a mundane task after the excitement at dinner, but the dishwasher couldn’t hold everything after such a decadent meal.

  The others were outside, sitting around a fire in the firepit, leaving us to have a moment of quiet. In the months of tumult that started back in the summer, my mom and I hadn’t had a proper chat. It made the time to ourselves welcome.

  “Creed seems like a nice young man,” she said as she handed me a dripping plate.

  I nodded. “He is. I really like him.”

  “But?”

  How on earth she knew there was a ‘but’ without me saying anything was a mystery to me. Probably one I wouldn’t solve until I became a mother myself. If…

  “But I feel like I’m losing him,” I confessed.

  A metric ton came off my shoulders when I said it aloud. To anyone else, I would have felt like I was admitting defeat. But if anyone else could truly understand where I was, it was her.

  “You mean since you learned about his father?”

  She handed me a glass—crystal for the occasion rather than the everyday jelly jars, so I was careful as I dried it.

  “Yes. Ever since we saw Yescha, there’s something between us. Some weird gap I can’t bridge.” I set down the glass and looked at the running tap. “It’s like trying to catch water with only my hands, trying to get back what we had.”

  “Your relationship may never be the same,” she said.

  I blinked. Totally not what I thought she’d say. But I was glad for the lack of empty platitudes and for cutting straight to the truth.

  She passed another plate into my hands. “People change. Circumstances change. Decide if the change is something you work through or if it’s a deal-breaker.”

  With the dripping wet plate in my hands, I considered whether Creed’s dark heritage was something that mattered enough to me to end our union. After all, I had point blank told two angels I wouldn’t leave him—had it been the buzz of finding out that had been talking, or was I truly ready to stand by him for the long haul?

  Did it matter to him? Was that why he was holding me at arm’s length?

  “Pick up the pace, Remi-Jean,” my mom snapped me out of it with the gentle command.

  I finished drying the plate and took the serving bowl from her.

  “He’s convinced the darkness in him is dangerous,” I said quietly.

  “With what you all see every night, it’s easy to think of darkness and light as opposing forces. But they’re not mutually exclusive. We all have our dark parts and our light. It’s what we do with those that matters. It’s the side we let win that defines us.”

  It was simple, but significant. And she was completely right.

  I took a deep breath. “I forget you lived it with Dad for so long.”

  Rinsing a handful of silverware, she said, “John was a good man until the bitter end. But he went through a spell where he lost his faith, and I couldn’t help him.”

  That was a revelation to me. “So it wasn’t the drinking?”

  “That was the pain point, without a doubt, but it was the cause of the drinking and us as a family no longer being enough that ended John and me.”

  “We haven’t really talked about it like this before,” I commented.

  “Well, for a while, you were too young to discuss it in any detail. Then, you and Dominic got serious, and no one wants to rain on new love by reopening old wounds. And the last few years have brought you enough hurts without rehashing old ones,” my mom said.

  Tears flooded my eyes at the thought of my late husband. “I miss him… I still miss him.”

  Mom dried her hands and reached up to stroke my hair. “I know, baby girl. You always will, but it gets easier.”

  “What can I do to help Creed?” I took a breath and refocused on the trouble in front of me.

  “Be present,” she said. “Ultimately, it’s his decision and his alone to be what he wants to be. But as long as you’re on the same team and pulling in the same direction, you can make it work.”

  She held out her arms and I hugged her. I had been a daddy’s girl growing up, always seeking him out first when I had even the pettiest of grievances to sort through. But in the intervening years since he had not only split with Mom but moved away from the rest of us, it was her I had come to rely on. I was fortunate to have her steady presence.

  The patio door slid open, and we heard Jocelyn as she came into the kitchen.

  “It’s really nice outside, but the men started talking about fishing… Oh, am I interrupting?”

  I smiled. “No, not at all.”

  Mom smiled at Joss, too. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a fishing enthusiast, so Hadden doesn’t get much from talking to me about it. He’ll be bending their ear for a while.”

  “That’s okay,” Joss giggled. “I’m not into fishing, either, so I thought I’d come in and see if I can help.”

  The sink was empty, and she had helped us package the leftovers and clear the table earlier, so there was nothing left to be done that I could see.

  “You know what you girls can help me with?” my mom asked. She took the pumpkin pie from the counter. “There’s not enough of this left to fuss with keeping it. Let’s finish it off.”

  I grinned. “I’m game.”

  “I’ll get plates,” Jocelyn offered.

  “Don’t bother,” Mom said, grabbing three forks.

  We sat at the kitchen table, devouring the last of the dessert straight from the pie tin.

  “I think you better show us that ring again,” my mom said.

  Joss’ radiant smile was ear-to-ear when she held out her left hand for us to inspect. The sparkler glinted under the lights, and it reminded me of how she had envied mine. Not the ring itself, but what it symbolized.

  Oh, how the roles had reversed. Joss was just starting that journey with Dylan, and I was left to wonder what the future held for Creed and me. But she and my brother deserved every bit of happiness they had with each other, so I would gladly take on the uncertainty I was enduring rather than trade places with them.

  “Remi, do you want to do some shopping tomorrow?” Joss asked. Before I could decline because of my natural aversion to retail therapy, she sweetened the invitation. “It’ll be anti-Black Friday shopping, at the small shops there at Creek Crossing. I could use a little girl time.”

  The last sentence was full of an implied plea for some alone time to have a conversation, so I didn’t make her ask another way.

  “Sure, that would be fun. I was afraid you wanted to go to the mall here in Westview.”

  “No, it’s to be avoided like the plague tomorrow. Even I wouldn’t set foot in there.”

  “It might be early to ask, but where will you go dress shopping?” my mom asked.

  “Oh no, definitely not too early—I’ve had this all planned since I was young, and I didn’t get to have the perfect wedding the first time around. Mockingbird Lane in Dallas is where all the best dress shops are. I’d love for you both to come with me when I schedule it.”

  “Of course I’ll be there. I’m honored for you to include me,” Mom said.

  “Me, too. I know it’s not my thing, but this is huge. Dress shopping will be second only to the Big Day.”

  Joss nodded with enough vigor to set her beautiful curls bouncing. “I know, right?”

  My mom raised her eyebrows at me. “You’re one to talk, Remi-Jean. Y
ou tried on two dresses. Only two. And you chose the first one.”

  “When you know, you know.”

  She polished off the last bite of pumpkin pie. “To be fair, it was a gorgeous dress. Only someone as tall as you could have made it work like you did.”

  Jocelyn held up her hands. “Okay, now I have to see this dress.”

  “I have the photo album from the wedding… If it’s okay with you?” my mom asked me.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Joss said. “We don’t have to—”

  “No, please. It’s perfectly fine. I don’t mind.”

  The truth was that I enjoyed reminiscing about the good times, holding on to the precious memories that were all I had left of that happy time in my life.

  Mom went and fetched the album from a shelf in the living room where she kept all her photo books. She came back toting the thick, faux-leather binder that held hundreds of pictures and laid it out on the kitchen table between us. The very first page was a full-page photo of me in my wedding dress. It was a smaller twin to the huge, matted and framed photograph my mom kept hanging in the long hallway that led to the bedrooms.

  I was only twenty-two… fresh-faced and young, full of hope as I stood under a weeping willow on the venue’s extensive grounds. I could still remember the feeling of the white satin against my skin, the scent of the roses and lily-of-the-valley tied into a pretty bouquet in my hands, the warm June afternoon barely two weeks after I had graduated college.

  Three short years later, I was robbed of that doe-eyed, newlywed hope. Of those dreams for a long life with Dominic.

  But the bitterness of loss didn’t settle in like it had done in the intervening years. Instead, another brick in the wall of my resolve snapped into place. I was no longer floundering, drowning in a sea of sadness and revenge.

  I smiled a slow smile.

  As if they had been waiting for my reaction to delving into the past, my mom and Joss resumed their happy chatter.