Now that he was twenty-three, he liked to play it cool publicly, but Leo had always been a mama’s boy. When he first joined their family at three, Stella couldn’t stand him because he was so attached to their mother. But he’d come from such a traumatic event that he needed the comfort of Cecilia’s steady presence, and he was wary of their father because of the violence in the home he’d come from.
It took a long time to pry him away from her mother and even longer for him to feel at ease in the family. And, once he’d opened up, baby Rosie joined the family as well and he took to big brother duties instantly.
Seeing them both so grown, Stella couldn’t believe she’d ever felt jealous of the two people she loved most in the world.
Leo ran a hand through his hair, which had turned a light golden brown from so much time outdoors. He had grand plans of training for the Gauntlet Games, but there wasn’t a chance he’d risk upsetting their mother by entering the dangerous competition.
“It’s no big deal. She’s justoff,” Stella said.
The front door opened behind them and they all jumped as their father walked into the house.
Rainer grinned at them. “What are you three conspiring about?”
“Mama’s cooking dinner,” Rosie said.
Their father frowned, peering into the kitchen. “She is? And do we have a backup plan?”
As he said it, their mother let out a string of expletives and pulled a tray of what looked like scorched lemon cakes from the fire.
“Sweetheart,” their father said, pushing into the kitchen. “Do you need some help?”
Cecilia turned, her hands on her hips. “Don’t manage me, Rain. I’m just trying to do something nice for all of you.”
Stella walked into the kitchen. “I’m happy to help, Mama.”
Cecilia pointed a wooden spatula at her children. “Oh, I know you three have been plotting. You don’t think I can do it, but I’m just making fried cheese sandwiches. I think even I can handle that. Even if the lemon cakes burned. I just won’t cook these as long.”
Their father started to speak. “I can?—”
“Rain, honestly, I can do it,” Cecilia snapped.
He gave her an indulgent smile.
She put her hands on her hips again. “Don’t give me that look.”
“Maybe I just like you in your usual role of chef-kisser,” Rainer said.
Cecilia cocked her head and angled the spatula toward him. “Why don’t you be the chef-kisser?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, scooping her into his arms and kissing her.
He ignored the chorus of groans from his children.
“Stop or you’ll spoil all our appetites,” Stella said.
Rainer finally set her back on her feet and grinned. “Now, what’s the occasion?”
Cecilia stepped away and removed her apron, smoothing her dress and brushing damp hair back from her brow. “I had a wholeplan for how I was going to tell you all,” she started. “I’m not even sure how to say it, but?—”
“You’re sick,” Stella said.
Rainer’s head whipped around, his brow drawn in concern. “You are?” He looked from Cecilia to Stella, looking betrayed. “And you knew?”
Stella nodded, guilt unspooling in her stomach. “She was sick at the Godsball.”
“And this morning,” Rosie said.
Stella stared at her sister. “You knew?”
