Page 110 of Begin Again

Gabriel, who I thought was the only thing she hadn’t ruined.

The betrayal is a slow, gnawing thing in my chest. She raised me after they were gone. She held me when I cried myself to sleep and told me everything would be okay when my world had been ripped apart.

And all along, she was the one who took them from me.

“Hey,” Selene says softly, pulling me from my thoughts. She shifts, her fingers lightly brushing over mine beneath the blanket, hesitant like she’s testing the waters. “You’ve been quiet for a while. What’s going on?”

I force out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t even know where to start.”

She doesn’t push, doesn’t fill the silence with empty reassurances. She just looks at me, steady and unwavering, like she sees straight through me.

“I trusted her,” I say finally, the words heavy in my mouth. “She was the only family I had left, and I thought… I thought she cared. That she loved me. But it was all a lie, wasn’t it? Everything she ever said, everything she ever did—it was just a cover for the monster underneath.”

Selene doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch from the bitterness in my voice. “She’s good at what she does,” she says quietly. “That doesn’t mean it’s your fault for believing her.”

“Doesn’t it?” I murmur, tightening my grip on the blanket. “I lived with her for years. I should’ve noticed a sign—anything. How do you miss the fact that the person who raised you is capable of…of this?”

“You were a kid, Theo,” she says firmly. “You weren’t supposed to see it. You weren’t supposed to know. That’s not on you. That’s on her.”

I exhale slowly, staring out into the darkness. Her words make sense, but they don’t do much to dull the ache in my chest. “It’s just…a lot,” I admit. “Trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not. Trying to make sense of everything I thought I knew about her, about my parents…about myself.”

Selene leans back, letting the weight of her head rest against my shoulder. The movement is natural like we’ve done this a hundred times before. Her fingers brush against mine beneath the blanket, not quite lacing together, but close enough that the warmth of her skin is a quiet, steady thing.

“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” she says softly. “Or tomorrow. Or even next year. It’s going to take time.”

I swallow hard, letting her words settle in. The truth is, I don’t know what happens after this. I don’t know what I become once the dust settles, once Aubrey is locked away—or worse, once she’s free again.

But right now, in this moment, I know one thing for certain.

I don’t want to let go of her.

I shift slightly, pressing my lips to her forehead in a slow, lingering kiss. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away.

“So,” I say after a beat, my voice lighter this time, “where do we go from here?”

Selene looks at me, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

“Let’s start simple,” I suggest, leaning my head back against the rocking chair. “What’s your stance on breakfast for dinner? Because I’m about to make some very bold claims about my pancake skills.”

She tilts her head slightly, an amused gleam in her eyes. “Pancakes, huh? Are we talking fluffy, golden masterpieces or the sad, burnt hockey pucks?”

I place a hand over my heart, pretending to be wounded. “Wow, that’s slander. My pancakes are legendary. Ask anyone. In fact, I’m offering to prove it. Breakfast for dinner tomorrow night. You in?”

She chuckles, her eyes warming. “Alright, I’m in, but I have to warn you, I don’t believe in breakfast for dinner. I believe it firmly belongs before 11 a.m., but I’ll do this for you one time. These better be some world-changing pancakes. But if they’re terrible, I’m taking Valkyrie and leaving town for good.”

“Deal,” I reply, grinning. “But we need to circle back to the blasphemy that is you not liking breakfast for dinner. What is that?”

Selene smiles, but it fades slightly as her gaze drifts to the dark tree line. Her fingers idly trace a fold in the blanket, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter. “There were a lot of times growing up that it was all we had money to eat. I could make pancakes, and Orion would sometimes ‘steal’ eggs from our neighbor Ms. Spicer. I use the word ‘steal’ loosely because she knew mom would spend all her money at the ABC store. So sometimes, we’d find eggs packaged up for us on the porch, or she’d catch us walking home from school and make sure we had what we needed. We ate a lot of fried eggs, breakfast potatoes, and pancakes…” She trails off, staring at the shadows cast by the porch light.

I don’t know what to say. That was the last thing I expected, and now pancakes don’t feel like such a lighthearted topic anymore. But I get it. I do. Food carries memories. Some good, some bad. Some you’d rather not be reminded of at all.

She must see a change in my expression because she nudges me with her elbow, a small smile returning. “Now that I’ve done enough trauma dumping on you, are you still up for pancakes tomorrow? What happens after that?”

I grin faintly, appreciating how she doesn’t have all the answers either. “I was thinking…maybe we could figure it out together. And in the meantime, maybe we make some plans to do regular things. Activities that don’t involve crime scenes or FBI agents.”

Her brow arches slightly. “Like what?”

“Well, Umbra is going on a world tour soon,” I say, absently rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand where it rests on my stomach. “I was already planning on joining the great war for tickets online to go to a show or two, but…if you’re going, maybe we could meet up. Or travel together. Japan was one of the stops in the last world tour, right? Hopefully, they’ll go back again. I’ve been wanting to check it out for years. Could make a vacation out of it—see the concert, explore the country. What do you think?”

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