Page 195 of Anger

She looks back at Kane.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful somewhere else for a bit? I’d like to talk to Amélie’s friend alone, if that’s all right?”

Kane hesitates, but eventually nods his head and stands from the table.

Leaving the orange juice carton, he takes his dirty glass to the sink, grabs a clean one from the cupboard, then sets it in front of his mom.

Filling her glass, he gently reminds her, “You need to drink that for me, okay? Don’t forget. And I’ll be back in a little while to cook some breakfast.”

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses him from the room then turns a set of sapphire-blue eyes my direction.

Blue’s mom may seem frail in mind and stature—I can see why both her children worry as much as they do—but behind this woman’s eyes is something I recognize every time I look at myself in the mirror.

How Blue and Kane have missed it, I have no idea. But this woman isn’t simply running from the monsters who got to her early in life. She’s still fighting them tooth and nail.

And from what I can see, those bastards have no chance of winning.

“Amélie must really like you,” she says, her voice so soft that it’s difficult to judge what she’s thinking. The frail tone is so at odds with what I see behind her eyes that I have to wonder if I’m about to be welcomed into the family … or if I’m about to have my ass handed to me.

“She must like you to have brought you to the house. She’s never done this before.”

I mean, technically I dragged Blue here kicking and screaming, but I keep that little tidbit to myself.

“Damon, right?”

I nod my head, and she reaches both hands across the table as if asking for mine.

Not knowing what else to do, I take her hands, holding completely still as her warm fingers tighten over mine.

“I’m Emma, in case you forgot from last night. It was pretty late, and we all were tired.”

This is unfamiliar territory to me. Unsure what to do with myself, I remain as still as possible, refusing to look away as she holds my stare.

A curious expression shifts her facial features. “I see the bastards got you, too.”

It made your brother fight…

Be a MAN…

Stop crying…

My brows tug together, tension inching across my shoulders. She must feel it in my hands because her fingers tighten down some more.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I know. I can see the scars. The ones on your skin but also what’s behind your eyes. I’m sorry about what was done to you.”

Thinking this must be where Blue gets it from, I try to think of a response, but my words fail me again. Not that Emma is expecting a response. She never gives me time for one.

“You know, I used to think that holding it in was the strong thing to do. That’s what I’ve done. All these years…” Her voice trails off like she’s lost to a memory from a lifetime ago.

Shaking her head freeof it, she adds, “I’m sure Amélie told you we moved around a lot. And she’s not wrong. I felt I had to hide her from the world. Make sure the people that got to me never found her. I’m not sure exactly what she thinks about what I did. We’ve never talked about it. But while it may seem like all I did was run, I promise you, I fought for my daughter. Our lives were never easy, but I watched over my children. Kept them safe. I got them to the point where they can take care of themselves now without their mom having to hide them away.”

She laughs, the sound barely there.

“Kane is a strong man now, and Amélie is so strong, too. Much stronger than I was at her age. But I still worry for her. That’s a mother’s job—to worry. That’s our strength. Imagine living the majority of your life watching over the two people you love most in the world. Protecting them from everything. How different my life would have been if I’d only had myself to worry about once I escaped—“

Abruptly cutting off that thought, she switches to another. “Anyway, I’m saying too much.”

Emma still refuses to release my hands, but I can’t help my curiosity.

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