The questions sounded rote, a liturgy that fell automatically from my lips. They were inane questions really, but the answers meant a hell of a lot to me. I wanted... no...neededmy kids to be okay.
“Some,” Darla said. “Not much of an appetite, though. Cain bribed them to finish their vegetables, at least. They stayed up an hour past bedtime watching cartoons. Is that okay?”
Normally, that kind of permissiveness might have earned them both a mild scolding. Routines were important in my house. It gave us all structure and that was comforting. But tonight, I’d let it slide. Cain was their uncle, and uncles were supposed to sneak your kids candy and let them stay up late. At least he hadn’t given them caffeine and let them play with water guns in the living room, the way our uncle had.
My smile was sleepy but genuine. “It’s fine. Don’t make it a habit, though.”
Darla snapped off a cheerful salute. “You got it, Mrs. Grundy.”
Mrs. Grundy was Darla-speak for someone being uptight and no fun. I could tell she didn’t really mean it this time around. She was trying to be a bit of sunshine during a hard time, and it was noble of her. It wasn’t her fault that I was padded with so much cynicism. But her optimism bounced right off my titanium-grade bad mood.
Darla teetered backwards in shock when I threw my arms around her and drew her into a hug. Even Maverick looked a little caught off guard when I did it. As a general rule, I didn’t go in for casual intimacy. It seemed silly, in retrospect. I hadn’t hugged Cain enough in life. So what if Darla and I weren’t as close as family? Cain was here and I could hug them both, thanks to her gift.
“Thank you both,” I whispered.
Darla’s hand patted my back awkwardly. It didn’t surprise me to see a little of Cain in her eyes when she pulled back. It was her voice when she spoke, but his inflection. I could see the minute differences in posture and expression.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I answered, giving them a final squeeze before I let go. “But I will be.”
I had to believe that. I had to move forward with the assumption that I’d solve this. The alternative was too horrible to bear. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to die. It was what my death would mean for the boys. They’d already lost their biological family. I wouldn’t rob them of a home a second time. Not if I could help it. Sean stirred fitfully when I ran a hand over his hair. He was damp with sweat and clammy to the touch.
My poor baby.
Mine. This wasmyfamily. I wasn’t giving them up without a fight. If that meant sending Astrid to Blood Rose, I’d do it. I hated myself for thinking it, but I would let her go back to save them—to save my children. I wouldn’t let her go inblind, of course. She’d have every protection and lifeline I could conceivably give her, but I was willing to die, tokillfor these boys. I hated such a dark spot existed in my soul, but it did.
Then again, if I hadn’t had the darkness within me, Mav and I wouldn’t have been friends, and possibly more. The truth was: his soul was more stained than mine. He was capable of things I wasn’t.
Darla took her leave, and Maverick helped me move the boys back to their beds. Charlie woke just long enough to go to the bathroom, then shuffled back to his room like a zombie. No, scratch that. Iknewzombies, and all of them moved faster than Charlie.
I hadn’t realized I’d been staring until Maverick cleared his throat. I turned halfway on the sofa, angling my body toward him. We’d been talking, but I’d cut off abruptly, watching my kiddo like a hawk until he was safely back where he should be.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Don’t be,” he said. “I like how dedicated you are to your kids. I never knew the feeling. It’s nice to see, even if it wasn’t aimed my way.”
It was frank statements like those that gave me an insight into how bleak his childhood had been. I’d been informed he was a jerk when he first came to the Hollow. After learning about his home life, I was surprised he hadn’t turned into a comic book villain. General douchebaggery was a far cry from evil. Neglect carved an empty place inside you, and nothing could fill it. Maverick was healing, but his mom had dealt him a permanent wound when she turned him out at eighteen. Her good reasons didn’t matter. He’d been hurt.
Maverick flinched when I touched his cheek with a whispered, “Mav...”
“Sorry,” he said, voice strained. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
“No. I’m glad kids are your priority, too. So many people perpetuate a cycle of abuse. It takes a lot of work to break a generational pattern. You protect kids. You love your family. You fight for them. I l...” My tongue stuttered over the word, altering it at the last second. “I like that. I like it a lot.”
Maverick kissed me.
No, that didn’t quite do the action justice. He lunged at me, capturing my face in his broad hands. He was surprisingly gentle, despite his haste. His lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me before I could stagger into that dreaded L word again. If I thought too hard about what was going on, I’d cry. I didn’t want to cry. I wanted this. Wanted his skin on mine, sponging all thoughts away.
I cursed my need to breathe. We both seemed set to see how close we could get to the edge before we sucked in ragged breaths. It wasn’t just that, though. There was a drivingneedfor this. His hands on me. I’d been craving it longer than I was willing to admit.
Had been afraid of it for longer than I wanted to admit.
Jonathan had ruined more than just our marriage. He’d neutered my already limited ability to trust people. If you trusted someone, the betrayal just hurt that much worse. Maverick was far from perfect. He could screw up epically. Break my heart all over again.
A small voice in my head muttered the words that I’d been unwilling to say to myself until now.
So what? So what if he screws up? He’s human and thanks to him, so are you. He’s earned a little grace.