Page 54 of When Day Breaks

of dreams & disasters

Lucynda

I always knew there was something more to the story of his mom, but the surprise of his admission that she's alive and that she's nearer than I would have thought is what causes the nerves to float in my belly.

His hand encompasses mine, the feeling very domestic in comparison to everything else we've said and done with each other. It causes my skin to pebble under the warmth of this coat.

We walk a few more blocks into the hills and beyond so many trees. We pass houses with tire swings hooked onto tree branches, some cars parked in the garages, others parked inside. We pass a house where a husband works on an oil change just inside the garage and as we walk in front of their home, his wife comes out with a glass of ice water for him, and even though my paranormal life only started weeks ago, that gesture seems foreign. But it swells in my chest and gives me a glimpse at alife I'd likely never have, even if I hadn't followed Rivian into the dark.

Another house is covered in Halloween decorations while their neighbors are already setting up their Christmas tree. Kids can be seen in the windows running around with icicle streamers while their parents chase them with red and green glass ornaments. I can practically hear the laughter from out here and it gives me pause, wanting to know what that feels like.

I watch them for a second longer before Rivian clears his throat and leads me further, just a few more houses down.

We reach a large, beautiful, rustic home with somewhat of a European flair. It's made up of dark gray brick and white shutters with matching framing surrounding the windows and door. The roof provides a traditional point complete with a chimney—steam billows from the opening as the snow melts onto the roof.

The driveway is wide, and a basketball hoop sits at the edge of it. It's simple, yet elegant and only a few dim lights can be seen inside as the windows are covered with white linen curtains.

I look up at Rivian—he had pulled his hand from mine and has since stuffed both of them in the pockets of his traditional formal attire—who is now looking down at his feet instead of ahead at the home.

"So all this time, she's lived right here?" I ask, looking back ahead at the sight of movement behind the curtains.

My heart rate picks up a steady pace at the knowledge that his mother is right inside. Possibly with a husband and other kids.

"Why not visit her?" I add on. "Why not-"

"There's no point," Rivian cut me off. His tone is stern and anything but sad. Maybe angry? Defeated? He clears his throat while he adjusts his tone with me. "She doesn't remember me."

My heart breaks at his words. No child should ever go through the pain of losing a parent. And while she may be right here, happy and healthy, she's gone forhim.

"Is there a way to fix that? To reverse what was done to her?" I know it might be impossible, but I wonder if he's ever tried to figure out a way to undo what's been.

"Not that I know of." His response is despondent now, almost as if he knows there's no hope for getting back what he's lost. What was taken from him.

I let him have a moment of silence as he braves bringing his eyes back up to the home. Lights flutter beyond the windows, likely from a TV playing a movie or TV show. We can hear laughter, not loud, but just enough.

Then I remember that I have a stronger sense of hearing than I'm used to, so I zone in to hear if I can make out voices.

One male. Older, maybe her husband. And a boy, not too old. And another a little younger.

"She's got two boys. Sixteen and thirteen. She shares them with her husband, Jared. He's great to her, and they’ve raised those kids to have respect and to be kind." I listen to the break in his heart bleed through his tone. “They do well in school with good grades, they’ve already traveled to Scotland together and they do family dinners every Sunday night.”

"I'm so sorry, Rivian." I don't know what else to say. This has to be hard, and the whole time this has been here. Something he'll never have because life was too cruel to afford him time or fairness.

"When the day came that Ameliana was introduced to the Society, my father called for an announcement and cruelly in front of everyone stated that he was getting married to hisanima vinculum,"he starts, and I let him take his time. "His marriage to my mother was out of contract for him to be king. It's not often Outsiders are subject to marital contracts,but however it happened, it did. And my mother was a willing participant.”

He closes his eyes.

"She would tell me bedtime stories about a young girl who followed her destiny and learned to love because it's where her heart felt the warmest in the world." His voice cracks, and I look up at him to see the threat of a lone tear welling in his eye. "She told me the girl always believed her life was meant for great adventure and she felt that where she was, was where she belonged."

I bow my head, hating that he's replaying these memories in his mind, recounting the sadness that traces their origins.

"I always knew they were about her. I knew she was the young girl in the stories. It gave me hope in my own life." He removes one of his hands from his pockets to rub the back of his neck. "The stories stopped when my father had her removed from the kingdom."

I reach up to my cheek to wipe away the snow that's melted against my skin, only to find that I'm crying myself. I can't help the sniffle that leaves me, not wanting him to turn his attention my way but he does.

Rivian lifts up my chin with his index finger and leans down to press his lips to mine. They get caught over a tear that travels over my closed mouth, but he presses gently for a moment letting the tear melt between us before he lets go.

"I hated what my father did. And I blamed Ameliana's mere existence for the trajectory of it. Maybe I have some re-evaluating to do but if I ever know one thing for sure in my entire existence…" he releases my chin and uses his thumb to wipe the tears that shed, the feeling of his warmth gliding against my cold cheek causes me to shiver. "It's that my heart feels warmest when I'm with you."

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