Page 104 of Manacled Hearts

To say I’m surprised is a massive understatement. It was easy to think that they left for themselves, for their baby. It was easy to think that I mattered less. I never allowed myself to think that maybe… just maybe, they did it for me too. I never cared enough to talk to them after that anyway. But many times I wondered if things would have been different if they stayed. I needed comfort, I needed someone to understand my suffering, I needed my brother.

Sighing, I allow myself to accept the acknowledgement waiting in the recesses of my mind—I needed my brother, but I couldn’t bear the happiness in his eyes as he looked at his breathing girlfriend. Not then.

Now, I’m holding onto resentment, but beneath that ugly emotion, I find that I’m not bothered by it anymore. Especially not when I catch a glimpse of Aaro, and it dawns on me that the healthy, curious little boy deserved a healthy mother too. Annika was too broken back then.

“You’re right,” I agree. “I’m not sure how it would have been if I had you here.”

“Hard.” She answers too quickly, her shoulders falling with the weight of these tough feelings. “I spent many nights on this terrace cursing that I was breathing this pleasantly salty air. Too many times I got close to giving up on myself, and I want to think now that I was so stupid back then for having such thoughts. I want to be embarrassed of myself. But I’m not. There was too much validity in my mindset, in my feelings—and my guilt. Whatever you were thinking about me then, my thoughts were even worse, and that’s why I had to leave.”

I didn’t know her state of mind was so precarious, that she would have gone as far as giving up on life. Fuck, I was never that close. I was grieving, I was sad, but most of all I was angry at my incompetence. I was disappointed in my inability to save Hanna before she was killed. The guilt was eating me from the inside out, but I was never close enough to give up. I’m an even bigger asshole for not noticing how hard Annika was suffering. Though, I’m not sure she would have confessed that to me back then.

I wouldn’t have asked anyway, too wrapped up in my own self-loathing. Still am. I am a failure, and it’s why I should stay as far away from Evelyn as possible.

What if I fail like that all over again?

What if I lose her too?

EVELYN

The atmosphere at the dinner table is calm, peculiar considering that they plotted three violent raids in the last hour or so. One would think it’s so light because two kids are present, but that’s not it at all. These men are so nonchalantly comfortable with the destruction they’re about to rein down on Frankie and his men, that they are at ease now. Even as they’re leaving in a few minutes.

All but Carter, who sits quietly next to me, his back straight, movements eerily fluid as he turns his head, observing, or as he cuts into his last slice of roast ham and steamed vegetables. Every single movement he makes, from the glide of his eyes to the rise of his chest as he breathes, is so controlled. It gives me the impression that he’s the most skilled of predators, sitting idly at the top of the food chain, waiting for the prey worth his effort. But sometimes, I also have this urge to poke him to make sure he’s real. Weirdly enough, I see some of these traits in Aaro too.

Just like Carter now, I’ve been observing them in silence since late afternoon. Finn told me everyone was coming over because Carter found something, right as I got out of the shower after my grueling training session with Madds. All three of us went to The Fightclub around midday, Maya included, because I was too anxious to sit around any longer. Once I heard they were coming, I was dying to hear what Carter found. I planned on sitting in the shadow of the corridor and listen in, but no one told me to leave.

Annika and Morrigan came too, and I would have stopped feeling privileged for being allowed to listen in as they planned, if I wasn’t the outsider. Which I am. Not a girlfriend, not a mother, definitely not a wife. Yet, no one batted an eyelid at my presence. Not even quiet, eerie, Carter. He is the most curious of them all. He both scares and fascinates me because there’s a cold emptiness in his peculiar hazel eyes. There were some emotions, sometimes amusement, sometimes a hint of excitement at the prospect of vengeance and murder, yet there was no warmth. Not the type you expect from a person who has been friends with these people for over a decade. From listening to him talk it’s clear he cares. He was the first to push back when something sounded like it could put someone in danger or be an unnecessary risk. Then again, that could come from a practical point of view too. I gathered that he’s pretty much a genius, applying his wits in his hacking skills, but I heard him more than once being referred to as The Carver, and I shudder to think why that is.

Maya happily munches on the rest of her dinner, her eyes wide as she takes in everyone at the table. There’s a pang of sadness in my heart as I realize that she’s never experienced anything like this, a big family dinner, until we came here. I don’t think she remembers us and our parents together at the dinner table, and even so, it wasn’t like this. So many chatty people engrossed in different conversations, a little boy she can play with, couples loving on each other. And I’m going to take this away from her. I feel like an asshole. How can I rob my sister of this when she looks like this is where she belongs, just to pull her to our miserable existence back in cold Fleeton, living in a subpar place, hopefully never homeless again, while struggling to feed each other and pay for Dad’s care? How can I do that to her?

She looks cheerful and content as she observes Morri and Vin, and Ronan and Annika’s sweet gestures to each other, giggling to herself whenever one brushes a hand on the cheek of the other or they steal a kiss. I haven’t told her yet that our life here isn’t permanent, and I can’t predict how she will react when I drop the news that we could be going back to Fleeton. To Dad.

My mind drifts away as the conversation dies down around us, everyone probably thinking more about what’s coming once they leave the table.

“Evie?” Maya’s voice brings my attention back to her, her voice dragging a bit like it does when she’s dying of curiosity.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

I’m so startled by the question, my gaze shoots around the table just for my cheeks to heat when I notice that most of them have heard the question too. Morri chuckles to herself and I want to throw something at her.

“I don’t need one, honey,” I answer, praying she’s satisfied. “Go on, finish your dinner.”

She wipes her face quickly with the napkin, too quickly for me to hope that she’s satisfied with my answer.

“But I think you should get one. Find someone to love. Then you’ll be happier, and maybe you’ll smile more. And bake like you used to.”

The innocence in her voice breaks something inside of me. I’ve been trying so hard to make sure that the cruelty and hardship of our life didn’t brush off on her, I made sure not to swear around her, not to yell, get angry or upset, I tried to shield her from it all. I didn’t even think to pretend to be happy around her. It’s only when I realize just how quiet the space got that my cheeks flame with embarrassment and I want to slide down this chair and hide under the table until everyone leaves.

“I have no interest in a boyfriend. I much like spending my time with you.” I smile, brushing my hand over her head. “Now stop asking silly questions or you might not get dessert.”

“I like it too, but… I can’t love you like that, Evie. I can’t love you in that pretty way Daddy loved Mommy.”

I choke so hard on my food, Carter pats my back to help me. My sister seems set on embarrassing me and making me cry tonight. What is happening right now? Before I manage to catch my breath, to my freaking horror, she continues.

“Like them.” She points to the two couples. “They kiss and hug, and they look at each other like Mommy and Daddy used to. Like Finn looks at you sometimes when you’re not paying attention. And like you look at h—”

“Maya! How about you go wash your hands? In the bathroom, now.” God almighty, bury me now.

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