“Sure,” Mom says, surprising me.
“I have some sparkling water. Is that what you mix with vodka?”
“In my day, we mixed it with energy drinks,” Mom says, and Ethan laughs.
“I like your mom.”
I just shake my head and go into the kitchen, dig out the vodka that I’m pretty sure is over a year old. It doesn’t go bad, does it? I make Mom a cocktail—if you can call vodka and sparkling water a cocktail—and pour Ethan and I just plain sparkling water. He shouldn’t drink anymore tonight if he wants to take another pain pill.
Though, knowing Ethan, he won’t want to take anything that will make him not be able to spring up and defend me at a moment’s notice.
“I think I can defend myself,” I whisper to Hunter, holding up my hand. Red-hot energy buzzes around my fingers, and I clench my palm to keep fire from springing from my fingertips, though that’s one way to show Mom, right? I look at Hunter again and I swear he nods as if he can read my mind.
Mom denies that ghosts are real, says vampirism is a severe allergic reaction to the sun…but how can she tell me the fire I’m holding in my hand is anything but that—literal fire?
“Another time, I know,” I mouth to Hunter. I plop a few ice cubes in each glass of sparkling water and take them into the living room, and then go back into the kitchen to serve the cheesecake.
“I won’t stay long,” Mom says, taking a tiny sip of her drink. Mom’s a wine drinker, and I actually can only recall one or two times where I saw her drink hard alcohol. “I know you two want to be alone.”
“I’m not sure how you want me to respond to that,” I say, making a face as I sink onto the couch next to Ethan and stick my fork into the cheesecake. It’s delicous.
“I was young once.”
“Gross.” I wrinkle my nose, and Mom laughs.
“How did you two meet?”
“Uh,” I start, looking at Ethan before I smile and go with the truth. “I went to a bar with Laney, ran into some asshole I went to high school with who really is still an asshole, and left to get some air. Ethan was just there. Like a creep,” I add.
Ethan nods. “I was just standing there waiting for some hot chick to walk alone down a dark alley.”
“See?” I nudge him with my elbow. “Creep.”
Mom laughs. “How’d you really meet?”
“That’s how,” I say. “We just ran into each other without him being a creep though. We got to talking and…” --and Ethan ghosted me, followed a deadly demon into the woods, and pulled me out of freezing cold water-- “…and we just hit it off.”
Mom smiles, looking from me to Ethan again, and I know where her thoughts are going, and for some reason she thinks if I meet a nice guy, get married and settle down, I’ll become normal, forgetting about ghosts because I’ll be too busy with a family.
Ethan would do the opposite of that.
“What’s our family history?” I blurt, feeling so obvious right now, though only Ethan knows why I’m asking. “On your side, Mom, I mean. After Aunt Estelle passed, I realized I don’t know much about the Fowlers. Nana and Papa retired to Florida when we were still kids, and I don’t remember going to family reunions or anything before then.”
“There’s not much family on my side,” Mom adds. “Not since your uncle and his family moved to Seattle.”
“You have a cousin?” Ethan asks, and I nod.
“Max. He’s seven now, I think? Or was it his seven-year adoption anniversary?” I wince. “I should know this.”
“You should. And yes, he’s seven and the adoption anniversary is next month. Make sure you send him something.”
“Remind me what he likes and I will.” I look at Ethan, knowing he’s wondering if anyone else related to me on my mom’s side has shown any signs of magic. “My uncle and his husband are both pathologists. Being doctors runs in the Fowler family, apparently,” I say, and hope Mom doesn’t bring up how I could try again to get into vet school. We both know I didn’t get the grades for it, and any mention of my bad grades that were caused by distracting supernatural forces is a sore subject. “Wasn’t Papa a medic in the army?”
“He was,” Mom goes on. “And it’s interesting you said Fowler family. We weren’t always the Fowlers.”
“What?”
“Your great-grandmother, Nana and Aunt Estelle’s mom, was JoAnna Lancaster. She moved from New England to the Midwest as a single mother and changed their last name to Fowler.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. Nana suspects it was because being a single mother in that time was looked down on. Great-grandma JoAnna never married Nana’s father, and he was never around. Having not one, but two babies out of wedlock must not have settled well with her family, and coming here, she took up the ruse of being a widow. Well, that’s what Nana remembers.”