I’m amazed.
He doesn’t say a word, his eyes flicking to the book clutched to my chest before he carries on to the French doors in the kitchen to let Jarvis out. Hoping he’s going to let it go, I move to take a step forward.
“I don’t think so, Eaglet. Sit there.” He nods toward the kitchen table as he shuts the door. He doesn’t turn the lights on. I had them off, reading by the light of my phone in case someone did come down. Maybe they wouldn’t see me if I quickly stuffed my phone under a pillow … or so I thought.
I sit and wait. Silas waits too, by the door for Jarvis, watching through the glass-paned door. He’s in his black robe. Large feet bare. Silas never stopped being larger than life even though I’m closer in height to him now than when I was little. I’m still a good eight inches shorter, but five-ten isn’t short. He’s just unusually tall. He’s also broad-shouldered and has a brow ridge that extends far enough over his eyes to make them appear as though they’re lights in the back of a cave. He’s the fucking terminator.
I’m John Conner.
He lets Jarvis in along with the cool night breeze. “Lie down, boy,” he says. Jarvis clips off to his cozy bed in the kitchen. Silas slides a chair out and sits. “You’ve been crying.”
Okay, I know we have the whole eagle thing going on in our family, but how did he know that? There isn’t much light, even with the moon shining in.
“That’s a relief. I thought you would be pissed at me for being up reading this in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, we’ll get there. But let’s talk about what’s bothering you first.”
“It’s a sad read. That’s all. You know, Silas? I see a theme emerging. You think I’m going to find out I was unloved by my parents—the biological ones—and I dunno, go postal or something. I don’t know about Father yet, but I can already say Mama did love me. When you’re as sick as she was—mentally and physically—all you can do is survive.”
“That is an astute observation. One not many would make.”
“I have. I agree I was abandoned, but I was quickly taken in by the best option possible. I already told you I was most worried I was a burden and even though you said I wasn’t, I’m so fucking comforted reading this.”
“Even though it makes you sad?”
“Yes. Every page shows me how wanted I was, which is selfish. I shouldn’t be concerned with that, only what you all went through.”
“No. I want you to be selfish. Take the comfort without guilt. Makes the rest of it a little easier to stomach.”
That’s true. “Simon’s such a mom. He broke the fourth wall to assure me he wasn’t going to tell me the details of his and Darius’s sexcapades.”
Silas quirks the corners of his lips to form what passes as a smile for him. “I didn’t read it after the ‘edit’.”
“It’s weird, but even with knowing how things turn out, there’s a pit in my stomach at the thought of us away from Darry. Which is why I’m up. I need to read to the part where we’re reunited.”
“Hand it over.” I groan but give him the book. “Julius needs to put a bell on you.”
He stands and so do I knowing I’m meant to follow. He whistles for Jarvis. He walks me to my room and there’s something I want to say I’ve been trying to figure out how to say.
“Sleep, Eaglet. Don’t let me catch you out of bed in the middle of the night without a better reason than this book, which you’ll have returned to you at breakfast.” He kisses my forehead.
It’s also a warning to tell on myself to Julius—I can tell him before breakfast and save myself a public hanging.
“Yes, sir … but wait!” I whisper yell. “That’s not all Mama was saying when she said the eagle thing. She had me, Dad, but I was meant for you.”
Silas smiles.
A genuine, honest-to-goodness smile. I think I can still count on my two hands the number of times I’ve seen him smile like this. His other “smiles” are jaded and forced or the crocodile one he does when he’s about to prey on some unfortunate soul. Now and then he’ll half-smile, which we count, or we’d have to say Silas never smiles.
“Father’s Day is coming. I want a card and gifts. Twenty-five years’ worth.”
I laugh, but not too loud so I don’t wake anyone. Namely the sleeping Italian. “It’s my birthday first.”
“Which I have never missed. Go to bed.” He’sstillsmiling, and I wish I could get a picture, but I know as soon as I take my phone out, he’ll scowl.
With all kinds of devious plans of getting him things like a “World’s Best Dad” mug, I gracefully float into our room and slip into bed, worming my way into Julius who stirs.
“Amore?”
