Page 34 of A Killing Cold

“What a festive bunch,” he declares. Paloma rolls her eyes. Sebastian wanders over and thrusts a T. rex toy at Trevor, who takes it. “Rawr,” he says, menacing the brontosaurus in Sebastian’s hands. “I’m going to eat you.”

“They friends,” Sebastian informs him gravely.

“Sure they are, kid,” Trevor says. He ruffles Sebastian’s hair. “You’re all recovered from your little adventure, then?”

Almost to the door, Olena misses a step. Empty glasses clack on her tray, and she steadies them as Alexis’s head rotates to fix her brother with a cold look.

“Oh, you heard about that?” she asks.

“Bastian the Abominable Snowman,” Trevor says. “It has a ring to it. No harm done, though. And I bet you had a good time with your new auntie.” His voice is almost singsong, and despite the unobjectionable wording, it feels like mockery. Connor’s hand settles on my knee.

“What’s this?” Rose asks, entering the room. She looks stunning—dressed in a gray wool top threaded with something that shimmers in the light, complemented by a pair of pearl earrings set in white gold. The few streaks of gray in her hair only add to her loveliness, which otherwise might seem too unreal, manufactured.

“Oh, Sebastian decided to take a little hike on his own,” Nick says, cutting in. “Gave Olena a hell of a scare, but Theo intercepted him before he got too chilly.”

“Oh dear,” Rose murmurs. Her eyes track to me. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” I say quickly, not wanting to claim credit when I haven’t mentioned exactlywhySebastian was able to wander away unnoticed.

“He’s so sweet ninety percent of the time, and then the other ten percent he turns into the Tasmanian Devil,” Alexis says. She commandeers the T. rex and makes it stomp on Sebastian’s head. He shrieksand twists away, delighted, and Alexis scrunches up her face at him playfully.

“Wonder where I’ve heard that before,” Nick says. He and Rose share a look, and Rose laughs a little.

“All three of you were little terrors,” she says.

“No! I was perfectly behaved,” Alexis says. A laugh slips from my lips. She cuts me a look. “You don’t believe me?”

I cover my mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, she was the very worst,” Nick tells me, a twinkle in his eye. “We should have just installed a ladder under that window when you were a teenager. It’s not like we didn’t know you were sneaking out every night.”

“I was sneaking out to do extra math homework,” Alexis says, deadpan. “And practice clarinet.”

“Is that what that was?” Paloma asks, feigning confusion. “Because I definitely thought we were making out.”

“Embouchure exercises,” Alexis parries, eyebrow arched. Paloma laughs. Trevor rolls his eyes.

“I have trouble thinking of you as a rule breaker,” I say to Connor. It’s little more than a murmur, but Nick catches it. He tips his drink toward Connor.

“Oh, he was a mellow teenager. But as a kid? I think he must have run away, what, five, six times? Never got much farther than the park, but we did once find him building a tree house to live in. He’d picked out a plot of land to grow his own crops. It was ten feet away from the swings, but still.” He chuckles. Connor doesn’t; his leg stiffens beside mine.

“Did you live together?” I ask, head tilting a little. Connor hasn’t mentioned much about Nick. I’d gotten the impression they didn’t see much of each other.

“Not exactly,” Rose says. She smooths her skirt in her lap. “After Connor’s father passed, Nick came to stay with us now and then, to help out. He was a godsend.” Nick looks faintly embarrassed.

“You needed the help. I did what I could, that’s all,” Nick says. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“You know that’s not true,” Rose says warmly. “You were like a father to these kids.”

“Dad was our father,” Connor says curtly.

Rose’s mouth purses, ever so slightly. “Of course he was. I’m just saying that your uncle helped us out when we needed it the most.”

“I was just glad to be part of your lives,” Nick says. I watch Connor in my peripheral vision. The hand on my knee has tightened, just enough to dent the skin. I put my own hand over his, and his fingers relax.

He smiles a little. It looks false. “Right. You were very helpful,” he says, politely enough. “Sorry. It’s just still hard to talk about sometimes.”

“Of course,” Nick says, his voice rough.

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