Page 22 of The Minotaur's Little Peach
"Besides," she adds with a grin that transforms her serious features, "I've got other patients who actually require my expertise. You two have figured out how to take care of each other."
After she leaves, I find myself processing her words in the quiet space between Taran's feeding and sleep. Take care of each other. Not just Daegan helping me, or me providing him with family connection, but something more reciprocal. Something that acknowledges the way his shoulders relax when I laugh at his stories, or how my breathing evens out when I hear him moving through the house in the morning.
The grief still comes in waves, sudden and devastating as winter storms. Yesterday, folding Korrun's shirts that I finally felt strong enough to reclaim from storage, the familiar scent of his skin caught me completely off-guard. The sob that tore from my throat felt like it might crack my ribs, and I fled to the bedroom to muffle the sound against a pillow.
When I emerged twenty minutes later, red-eyed and shaky, Daegan was positioned at the kitchen table where I couldn't miss seeing him. Not lurking outside the bedroom door like he was eavesdropping, not pretending he hadn't heard my breakdown, just... there. Available without being intrusive, present without demanding explanation or performance of recovery.
"Tea?" he offered, nodding toward the steaming cup he'd placed at my usual spot.
The simple normalcy of it steadied me more than any words of comfort could have. He'd heard my pain, acknowledged it by preparing something to ease my throat, then given methe dignity of processing it privately. No hovering, no anxious questions about whether I was all right. Just patient acceptance that grief moves through its own cycles and can't be managed away.
These moments of understanding accumulate like small treasures, reshaping my perception of the man who shares my daily life. Where Korrun approached emotional storms with the desire to fix them—bringing me practical solutions and determined optimism—Daegan offers something more like a harbor. Safe harbor where I can weather whatever comes without judgment or pressure to be anything other than exactly what I am in this moment.
The differences between the brothers reveal themselves in hundreds of small ways. Korrun would have already reorganized my spice collection by frequency of use and alphabetical order, convinced that efficiency would somehow make cooking easier. Daegan leaves my haphazard system intact but quietly memorizes where I keep everything, so when I'm juggling Taran and trying to season soup one-handed, he can pass me exactly what I need without being asked.
When Taran has particularly restless nights, Korrun would have approached the problem with research—asking other parents for advice, consulting whatever texts he could find about infant sleep patterns, developing systematic approaches to test until we found the solution. Daegan simply takes the baby and walks him through the house, humming those half-remembered sailing songs until tiny fists uncurl and breathing evens out into sleep.
Neither approach is wrong, but the contrast highlights something I'm only beginning to understand about my own needs. Korrun's determined care gave me security and stability, the deep comfort of being loved by someone who would move mountains to ensure my happiness. Daegan's presenceoffers something different—the trust that I'm strong enough to weather my own storms, with the quiet assurance that I don't have to weather them alone.
"Being on land is harder than I expected," he admits one evening, steam from his tea curling between us as we sit at the kitchen table. Taran sleeps peacefully in his basket nearby, finally settled after a fussy day that tested both our patience.
"How so?" I ask, genuinely curious about this perspective I've never considered.
His fingers trace the handle of his cup, and I notice how the lamplight catches the silver hoop in his ear. "On a ship, every decision affects survival. You learn to read weather, watch for reefs, manage supplies because your life depends on getting it right. But here..." He pauses, searching for words. "The consequences feel bigger somehow. More personal."
The admission surprises me with its vulnerability. This is the same man who negotiated market prices with casual expertise this morning, who moves through domestic challenges with unshakeable competence. But something about permanent residence, about caring for people rather than cargo, unsettles his confidence in ways that ocean storms never could.
"I'm glad you came back," I tell him, the words carrying more weight than I intended. "Not just for Taran, but... I was terrified to be a mother. Especially alone. I thought I'd fail at everything—feeding him wrong, holding him wrong, somehow damaging him just by not knowing enough."
Daegan's sea-green eyes meet mine across the table, steady and serious. "And now?"
"Now I think maybe that fear was keeping me from seeing what I actually could do." I glance toward Taran's peaceful form, still amazed that this perfect creature grew inside my body and emerged healthy despite all my worried incompetence. "I'mstill scared, but it's different. Less about failing him and more about... wanting to be the mother he deserves."
"You already are," Daegan says simply, and something in his tone makes my chest warm. Not the effusive praise that tries to convince, but the quiet certainty of someone who's watched me navigate these weeks and drawn his own conclusions.
The conversation flows easier after that, touching on small observations and shared experiences that build understanding between us. I tell him about the way Taran's expressions sometimes mirror Korrun's so perfectly it takes my breath away, and he shares stories about the letters Korrun sent during my pregnancy—how my brother-in-law's writing transformed when he talked about becoming a father, practical concerns giving way to wonder at the miracle of new life.
"He was planning to teach Taran to swim in the cove behind the house," Daegan mentions, his voice soft with memory. "Said he wanted him to be comfortable in water from the beginning, like we were as children."
The image forms easily in my mind—Korrun's patient hands supporting a small body in gentle waves, his deep voice offering encouragement as tiny limbs learned to move through water. It should hurt, this glimpse of futures that will never happen, but somehow it doesn't. Instead, it feels like a gift, another piece of the life Korrun imagined for us that I can carry forward.
"Will you teach him?" I ask before I can think better of it.
Daegan's smile spreads slowly, transforming his features with genuine pleasure. "I'd like that. When he's old enough, I mean. No sense rushing him into deep water before he's ready."
The promise settles between us, another thread in the web of connection that's been growing stronger each day. This is what family looks like now—not the life I planned with Korrun, but something new built from love and loss and the quiet decision to care for each other through whatever comes.
12
DAEGAN
Icatch myself smiling more often these days, a realization that hits me while I'm mending a tear in one of my shirts. The needle pauses in my hand as I acknowledge what's happening here—not because the grief has lifted from this house, because it hasn't. It still clings to the corners like persistent fog rolling in from the harbor, settling into spaces when we least expect it. But Soreya has these moments now, bright ones, when her guard drops around me in ways that make something warm unfurl in my chest.
Like yesterday morning, when she returned from the market with that particular set to her jaw that meant trouble.
"That bastard Renwick tried to charge me double for somana because 'prices have gone up with the recent rains,'" she'd muttered, unpacking her basket with sharp, efficient movements. "As if I haven't been buying from his stall for three years and don't know exactly what those roots should cost."
The way she mimicked his pompous tone made me laugh—a real laugh that surprised us both. "Let me guess, you told him exactly what you thought of his sudden price increase."
