Kellan throws a strawberry top into the sink. “Of all of us, I know her the best, and I think she could get through this. Last week was the hardest part, and she’s past it.”
That makes Rian glance up. “You know her best? What makes you think that?”
And just like that, we’re off track. Bickering like boys fighting over the last match to light a cigarette.
I drag a hand through my hair. “Enough,” I say firmly, my voice booming through the small space.
“Forget it,” Rian snaps.
But I don’t forget it. I clock every look, every soft tone he uses when he talks to her. And Kellan’s not innocent either. Bringing her tea, adjusting her blankets, sitting up in the hallway like a damn guard dog.
Even I’ve changed. It’s not something I can see when I look in the mirror. People have told me “it’s in the eyes” before, so I’ve held my eyelids up and looked back, and there’s nothing different that I can tell. But I don’t want to hurt her, and I don’t want anything else in the world to hurt her either. I don’t want those boys to suffer, but it’s not just about them, as much as I keep trying to push that narrative.
I look at my brothers, at the way they both flit around each other in the kitchen. A couple of clucking hens. It embarrasses me tosee them act like teenagers over this woman who was reduced to crying on the shower floor over a trigger pull.
It embarrasses me that I know I feel the same way they do.
This isn’t just sex or Stockholm syndrome.
“We can’t all be in love with her,” I say flatly.
That shuts them both up.
Rian clears his throat. “No one said anything about love.”
Kellan drops the knife into the sink with more force than necessary. “Yeh, but now that you’ve said it, maybe we should talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I growl.
“Isn’t there?”
“She’s not one of us. She’s leverage. She’s…”
Kellan finishes for me. “She’s the mother of our children. She’s one of us. That’s what all of this is, isn’t it? Making her one of us?”
“Not the mother ofourchildren,” Rian corrects, and it hangs in the air. “They don’t belong to all of us.”
Silence again. The kind that buzzes under the skin.
I look between them, seeing the same thing I feel reflected back. Guilt, want, confusion. Excitement.
I drag my hand over my face and then lean forward, resting my forehead on the counter. Finally, I stand up straight, my face still in my palms. “Dais expecting this. He wants her hardened. He wants proof that she’s loyal.”
Kellan scoffs. “Loyal? You mean useful.” Rian and I look at him in surprise. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised by this new attitude he keeps bringing around. I saw the way he hesitated with that knife behind our father’s neck. But it’s so unlike him, like seeing a glimpse of an entirely different personality. He chuckles and eats a strawberry. “What? Why are you guys always so surprised that I have independent thought?” He rolls his eyes.
I shake my head. “Loyal or useful—it doesn’t matter. It’s the same thing, as far as he’s concerned.”
Rian interjects, “I saw something change in her. After. Not all bad. Let’s just tell her the truth, so she’s ready. No more tricks.”
I stare at him. “You think trauma made her better?Jaysus, Rian. That’s dark, even for you.”
“Even forme? Didn’t you just say that Dadaí picked you to kill Mamaí because you were a fucking child psychopath?”
My nostrils flare, and he’s right, because even though he’s blood, I have an image in my mind of twisting his neck until I hear it crack. Of smashing his skull against the corner of the counter until I’ve dented it in and I can see brains.
I take a deep breath and say, “She can’t bereadied.Let’s just drop her off and tell her when we get there.”
“How do you expect her to trust us if you don’t keep her in the loop about anything?”
