Page 79 of Manacled Hearts

“Only Lulu,” I whisper.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We can help him… you.” His steps are closing in.

Do I have the heart to tell him I did this to protect my father from them?

“I don’t need it. He’s perfect where he is. It’s a specialized home for people with dementia. They have all the facilities, and great staff,” I answer.

“But they don’t have you…” Finnigan trails off and the kindness in his words takes my breath away. “I’m sorry I stopped you from leaving the room, then. Maya didn’t get to talk to him.”

I sigh because I wish I could blame him, but in truth, it was too late.

“It’s okay. She wouldn’t have managed to. He was already slipping away. It’s probably better this way.”

His shadow looms over me for a moment before the bed dips, my body involuntarily leaning toward him, and I quickly gather my hands in my lap. I don’t turn, don’t pay him any attention as my focus stays on my sister beyond the window.

“Why didn’t you tell us about him? We thought you were homeless because he… passed away.”

I take in a shallow breath and realize I don’t have the energy to invent a different reason that might not hurt his feelings.

“Because I didn’t know anything about you. All of you. Not that I know that much now.” I rub my thumbs nervously on my lap. “There was no reason to trust you, and I will protect my family at all costs. I could never risk him being used in any way because of my screw up.”

A slow, deep inhale coming from him tenses me up. I wait for the retaliation, for the snappy remark.

“Okay, fair.”

My brows pull together, but I hold myself from turning to him.

“Has your opinion of us changed?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation, surprising myself.

I know my instincts spoke before me because it’s true. They treat my sister and I with nothing but kindness. From shelter, to food, to a decent job, and… friendship. As terrifying as that is, since I cannot stay in this city, they give me friendship. Unconditionally.

“For the better?” he asks.

“You’re not what I expected. All of you, I mean.” I quickly correct myself. “People whisper about you in town, about the ruthless Sanctum, the crime, the sex, the power. They fear you. I’m not saying you’re not to be feared, you probably are, but what I’ve seen so far… it’s exponentially different from their perception of you.”

The exhale I hear coming from him warms me. There’s relief in that whiff of air, and a tinge of hope blossoms beneath my flesh.

“Tell me about your parents.” He speaks those words in such a calm, soothing tone, I feel compelled to share.

“They were normal people. Not rich, not poor, normal jobs. We lived in one of those suburban neighborhoods that’s almost in the countryside, with plenty of space between houses. It was just the four of us. My mother came from the foster system and didn’t know her parents, my father’s mom died when I was two, and my grandpa when I was six. No siblings on either side, no great aunts or uncles. It was just us… we were happy.” I inhale slowly, defeated. “Until we weren’t.”

I watch as Maya comes back into the garden, shyly handing Aaro a little plate with a piece of my cake. They both blush and there’s something so endearing about this sweet moment.

Finn doesn’t say a word. He’s perfectly still in my periphery, patiently waiting on me to spill my story. Maybe there’s hope yet for whatever this is between us. Though he seems reluctant to even admit it.

“About five years ago, our lives changed. Dad started having strange symptoms that didn’t quite add up. At first, they kind of ignored them and passed them as stress. But then the forgetfulness came, and from then on, he deteriorated. He has early-onset Alzheimer’s, and it’s aggressive enough that the decision was made for him to go to a care home that specializes in dementia. He insisted himself on one of his good days. Mom fought him so hard, I thought she would win. She didn’t, Dad wouldn’t let her.”

I remember that period like it was yesterday. There was no yelling, no actual fighting, but begging. So much begging from both sides.

“Dad couldn’t work anymore, of course, and mom not only had to work harder, but take care of a three-year-old, a thirteen-year-old, and my father. It got to the point where she couldn’t leave him alone with us. I had to go find him after school on more than one occasion, because he got lost in the neighborhood. Once he almost burnt down the kitchen. Dad couldn’t do this to mom, he loved her and us too much to make us suffer. So he went to the home. A good one.”

“Evelyn… I’m so sorry.” The sincerity in his tone splits open a little part of me I haven’t been allowing to get too close.

“It’s okay. I got used to it.”

“But who’s paying for him now? Who has been paying since you’ve been on your own?”

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