“Yeah,” Sherry croaked. “Like, a man and a woman are a couple sometimes.”

“But Mom,” Jake said. “You’re both girls!”

“And that’s why Mrs. Burlinski reacted so strangely,” Madison said, and this time Sherry didn’t complain about her speaking up.

Jake sat up. “Does that mean Madison is like Bob?”

“Who’s Bob?” Madison asked.

“The stepfather of one of the girls in the trailer park,” Sherry supplied, and to Jake she said, “It’s complicated.”

Madison rubbed her neck. “Well, your mother and I are a couple, but—”

“Does that mean I can call you Mom too?”

Sherry stared at him as if he had just grown two heads.

She should have been happy about his question. Calling her Mom would have been perfect for their charade. But this was no game. Not for Jake. And it felt all wrong. Madison held a hand to her suddenly cramping stomach.

Sherry took a deep breath. It sounded shaky. “It’s not important what you call someone, baby. It’s much more important that this someone is always there for you. And I and Rita Mae are.”

“And Madison,” Jake added, grinning.

“A…and Madison,” Sherry croaked. She forced a smile and tapped his nose. “Do you remember when you wanted to call Rita Mae ‘Grandma’?”

“Yeah, but she said she was too young for that.”

“And do you love her any less because you call her Rita Mae instead of Grandma?”

He shook his head.

“And do you think she loves you any less because you don’t call her that?”

“No.”

“See? That doesn’t change anything.”

“Madison?” Jake looked at her with a vulnerable expression on his little face.

“Yeah, grasshopper?”

“Will you always stay with us?”

Madison felt sick to her stomach, and her eyes started burning. His guarded yet hopeful expression was too much for her. She had to leave. Now. She jumped up.

Jake followed her movements like a hawk.

“I…” She cleared her throat. “We will always be friends. No matter what,” she forced out and tried to smile.

After some endless seconds, he nodded as if deciding that was enough. “Okay.”

“Good night,” Madison mumbled. She stumbled out of the room as fast as her legs would allow. Standing in the hall, in front of the closed door, she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. A few deep breaths and it would be better. It had to be.

Don’t think about it. How often did Grandmother Eileen promise something and later didn’t give a shit about it? But as much as she tried telling herself it had been a necessary lie, a quiet but insistent voice told her that she wasn’t anything like the witch. And maybe, just maybe, she could keep her promise to Jake somehow.