Page 39 of The Wolves At My Sides

I kissed him softly as Irwin crawled back into bed behind me. He cuddled up next to me and his warmth spread like a warm blanket. He kissed the back of my neck before pressing his cheeks against my shoulder to watch Marcus and I kiss.

Nothing came of the kissing that morning and I was okay with that. After the night before, I felt light, but raw. It was as if I told Marcus and Irwin enough so that they could look right through my flesh, sinew, and bones into my soul. The last time I did that I wasn’t old enough to know what a soul was, and I sure wasn’t old enough to know that everyone went around hiding theirs.

I told the mother of my first foster mother. Laying between Marcus and Irwin I couldn’t even remember their names. My foster parents knew of course. Not even the Moonscale system tossed a kid at parents and told them nothing. I told the old woman about what Bram did to my parents. I told her how he killed them because he didn’t want them to tell everyone he was a bad guy and I only got away because he thought I looked like him. That meant everyone would think he was my dad instead of my real parents. The look on her face was understandably horrified, but what she said next became my motto.

“We don’t go around telling people stuff like that. No one wants to hear about bad things. It’s better if we just keep stuff like that to ourselves.”

That weekend I moved to my second foster home. I was always sure it had something to do with telling her. So, after that I told no one. I told no one until Irwin asked. He asked for submissions. He asked for the forgotten tragedies. It took me months to gather up the courage to even email him. Now, I’d gone farther than that. Now, I’d told them how much I hated being alone and how much I hated not being able to count on anyone.

After breakfast, I laid back down and Marcus and Irwin crawled back into bed with me.

“You guys don’t have to lay around being sad with me,” I sighed, feeling like a jerk for wasting their vacation.

“Do you want time alone?” Marcus asked.

I swallowed a groan. I always missed them when I wasn’t with them. I always wanted them back as soon as they left.

“Not really,” I admitted – another chink in my armor.

“Then we’re here,” Irwin said.

“I feel like a jerk for wasting your vacation.”

“It’s our vacation. That means yours too, Fen,” Marcus said, running a big, warm, protective hand over my belly.

“I think I’m bad at vacations,” I managed a laugh.

“No,” Irwin shook his head. “A vacation is just getting away from the day-to-day grind. We’re not doing all of that. So, we’re all good at vacations.”

“If you say so,” I smiled.

“I do. So it is,” he kissed my cheek.

I opened my mouth to say I wish I hadn’t told them, but it wasn’t quite the truth. They’d find out sooner or later.

“What’s bothering you the most?” Marcus asked and I waited for Irwin to tell him to stop being a therapist.

Only he didn’t. So, I closed my eyes. They both watched me with too much love for me to meet their gazes in that moment. It was as if their love wrapped around me and squeezed all my darkest secrets out of my mouth.

“That it’s never going away,” I admitted.

“Which part?” Irwin asked.

“The memories. The urge to hide. The not trusting anyone. I trust you two, but that’s different.”

“But it means you’re trusting someone,” Marcus said. “It’s not uncommon for trauma to act up when big life changes occur. Has working on the book made it better or worse?”

Irwin held his breath. I turned my head toward him and smiled. He didn’t have a damn reason in the world to worry about the book. I was in it for the long haul.

“Better,” I breathed out the word. “I want people to know they existed. Bram Valen was --- terrible and he’s talked about all the time, but the people he hurt and murdered – their names feel lost to time.”

“Say their names,” Marcus whispered in my ear.

I swallowed hard. It shouldn’t have been hard to do. I should’ve been able to shout their names from roof tops in post-grave revenge upon Bram.

“Marin and Crux,” I whispered to them.

It was a start. It was my start. Hell, they were my start.

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