Page 69 of A Time of Witches

“I’m sorry,” Asher said quietly, breaking into Lilith’s thoughts.

She lifted a shoulder. “Mama grew up poor. Like, real poor.” A Southern lilt bled through Lilith’s words, the crisp edges of her speech softening with the wine. “Sometimes a hard life makes people better, sometimes it makes them bitter. And Mama was a real lemon.”

She smiled as if she’d cracked a joke, but neither of them laughed.

And maybe there was more to Mama than that bitterness.

The corner of Asher’s lip tucked down. “Difficult families can be…”

“Difficult,” Lilith finished for him.

They both chuckled, the kind of laugh you give because it’s easier than embracing the pain.

Lilith took another sip of wine. “Was your family…?”

“Difficult?” Asher finished with a sardonic grin.

“Yeah. Because you’re pretty complicated yourself, sir.”

“Complicated?” Asher arched his brow, making him look more debonair than skeptical.

“Do you fall in love quickly?” she asked with a grin, firing his question back at him on a slingshot of flirtation.

“With animals, always.” He reached down and rubbed a hand over Toby’s belly, earning him a grunt of happiness from the slumbering dog. “With people…I didn’t have the best example either.”

Lilith sat forward. Maybe she would finally get some answers from Asher.

And as much as she wanted—needed—to find out more about the manor, she realized she wanted just as badly to find out about the man.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Lilith

“Was it your mama or your daddy?” Lilith asked. Because a complicated childhood was always the fault of one or the other, wasn’t it?

“My father.” Asher’s fingertips lingered on his wineglass. “He spent his whole life trying to reclaim the greatness our family once had, never accepting that his father squandered the last of the inheritance. All Father had left was that house. It was everything to him. And for a while it was everything to m—”

He cut off abruptly and shook his head, jaw clenching.

Had he meant to say it was everything to his mother?

“How did your mama cope?” Lilith nudged.

“She didn’t.” He scoffed, the sound harsh with pain. “She was lonely and soothed herself with the bottle until it wasn’t company enough, then she left.”

“I imagine you were lonely too,” Lilith said softly. “Even before she left.”

Asher’s gaze slid away from hers.

Lilith stretched a hand toward him without thinking. Not until her fingers brushed his forearm. He lifted his eyes to hers, securing the connection between them in a way that made Lilith’s heartbeat stutter.

“How old were you?” she asked gently.

“Ten.” Asher took a drink and continued, “My father took to the bottle after she left. One night, he went out and never came home. Drowned in the neighbor’s pond.”

Lilith hurt for the little boy Asher had been, orphaned and entirely alone.

“Oh, Asher…”