21. Theo
21
Theo
O rion is the first to move. He steps back inside, returning shortly with a broom and dustpan. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t make a snide remark, or brush off the moment like he usually would. Instead, he crouches down, carefully sweeping the shards into the dustpan, his movements deliberate and patient.
Mo is still frozen in place, her bare feet inches from the broken ceramic. She doesn’t seem to notice—her wide eyes are locked on the bottle like it’s a ghost.
I shift uncomfortably, my fingers tightening around the cool metal. She looks like she’s somewhere else entirely, somewhere distant.
Orion sighs, and in a move that stuns everyone, he sets the broom and dustpan aside and reaches for her.
“Come here, Firefly,” he murmurs, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.
She blinks like she’s coming back to herself, but before she can react, he slips an arm around her waist and lifts her off the ground like she weighs nothing. She lets out a quiet sound of surprise, hands pressing lightly against his shoulders, but she doesn’t fight him.
“Orion—”
“Just hold still,” he mutters, carrying her a few steps back, away from the shards, before setting her down gently. His hands linger for a moment, steadying her. “You could’ve cut yourself.” His tone is gruff, but there’s no real bite to it. More like concern wrapped in rough edges. His fingers brush against her long waves, smoothing them absentmindedly before he pulls away.
Mo stares up at him, an unreadable expression passing through her expression. Then she exhales and nods. “Thanks.”
Orion just gives a small nod in return before crouching back down to finish sweeping.
Selene and I exchange glances, our expressions mirroring the same unspoken thought: Who the hell is this Orion, and what has he done with the real one?
It’s strange, seeing him like this.
Not that I know him enough to think he is incapable of being soft, but this—this quiet, effortless tenderness—isn’t something I’ve seen from him before. Not toward anyone.
The moment lingers, strange and delicate, before reality crashes back in.
I grip the bottle a little tighter.
We have bigger things to deal with.
Following Mo inside Selene and I catch each other’s wide eyes again, neither of us says anything. It’s not the time to unpack whatever the hell just happened. That’s a conversation for later.
For now, we have a much larger problem sitting in the palm of my hand.
I’m still clutching the bottle, my knuckles white around the metal. It doesn’t belong in the present—it belongs to a memory. A thousand memories. And yet, it’s here, solid and real, proof we can’t ignore.
Orion mutters under his breath as he strides around Mo, yanking out a chair and sitting down heavily. He doesn’t even try to act casual—I can see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of unease in his expression. His eyes flick to the bottle.
Then, without hesitation, he pulls Mo down into his lap.
She lets out an undignified squeak, stiffening for a moment before sighing and giving up.
I blink.
Who are these people?
I’ve never seen this side of either of them before, and I’ve known Mo almost my entire life.
The house is warm, the smell of tea, coffee, and cinnamon lingering in the air, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.
After everyone filters into the kitchen, we settle in—some with coffee, some with tea, and a few with water. I’ll never understand people who drink water in the morning. Aubrey used to say it was good for getting the system running, but drinking anything other than coffee before ten just feels wrong.
Selene nudges Celeste, and they whisper back and forth. Celeste’s expression is uncharacteristically serious, and whatever she says makes Selene nod. I glance between them before looking at Mo, who’s watching the whole scene unfold, her arms crossed, her face unreadable.
I shift my grip on the bottle and clear my throat. “We need to get this tested.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
Orion nods, already on the same page. “I’ll take it to the sheriff’s department. They’ve got connections with a forensic lab.” His lips press into a thin line. “If I tell them it’s a rush, we could get results back in three to five days. Maybe sooner if we pull some strings.”
Three to five days.
It feels like a lifetime.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Do it.”
Still, I hesitate before passing the bottle to him. Holding onto it makes this feel less real, like letting go means accepting whatever we might find. But after a beat, I hand it over. Orion wraps it in a plastic bag before tucking it into his jacket.
Before he can head for the door, Mo reaches out, catching his arm. He stops immediately, his body going still at her touch.
“Before you go, there’s something I need to talk to you about—to talk to everyone about.”
I frown, gripping the back of a chair. “Alright, do we know when Bennett will be here?”
Mo exhales sharply, glancing at Orion for half a second before setting her hands in her lap. Orion reclaims his seat pulling Mo back into his lap, this time with a more practiced ease. “He shouldn’t be much longer. He left around the time Orion told me you were all heading this way.”
Right on cue, a sharp knock sounds at the door before it swings open.
Bennett steps inside, his brows furrowed. He glances around at all of us gathered in the kitchen, his confusion evident. “What’s with the group meeting? Did we get a breakthrough?”
Silence.
Mo presses her lips together, straightens her spine, and then—without ceremony—drops the bomb.
“Aubrey is your mother.”
The room fractures.
Orion goes still, his grip tightening on Mo’s knee. Selene’s breath catches audibly. Celeste’s mouth drops open, and I swear, for half a second, even the walls seem to recoil.
Bennett laughs, sharp and disbelieving. “That’s funny.”
No one laughs with him.
His jaw tightens. “No. No, that’s not—” He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “That’s not possible.”
Mo doesn’t waver. “It is.”
His expression shifts, his mind working through the pieces. I see the moment it clicks—his throat bobs, his brows furrow, and his hands curl into fists at his sides.
I feel like I should break the silence, but what the hell do you say to that? Bennett isn’t just some guy. He’s, in a roundabout way, the only thing I have left of my dad. Our fathers were twins, we should’ve grown up together like brothers. That thought sends a rush of anger through me at the betrayal of my aunt. She is the last person I would’ve ever connected him to. The idea alone makes my stomach twist.
And then, Celeste—bless her obliviously brilliant soul—tilts her head, frowning.
“That makes no sense,” she says, her voice light, almost thoughtful. “Because that would mean she got pregnant at seventeen, had a shotgun wedding, then after her husband mysteriously died, she hid the pregnancy from the entire town, including her family, and gave the baby up for adoption without telling anyone.”
A beat of stunned silence follows.
She blinks at all of us. “Right?”
No one breathes.
Because when she says it like that—laid out, blunt, and matter-of-fact—the weight of what she’s just put into words is staggering.
Bennett’s face is unreadable.
I look at Mo. Mo looks at Orion. Orion exhales through his nose, his expression grim.
Celeste, still frowning, takes a slow sip of her tea. “That’s insane,” she adds like she’s just now realizing it herself. “Right?”
No one answers.
Because, at this point, we all know better than to think anything about this is impossible.
Bennett’s eyes flick to me like I might refute it. But I don’t. I can’t .
Because deep down, I already know it’s true.
“We need answers.” Orion is the first to break the silence, his voice steady, and decisive. He looks between us, his gaze landing on Mo. “I’m going to take this to the lab to get some tests run. If we can prove Aubrey was involved, we can start putting the pieces together. Think about her background and knowledge. Let’s try to narrow it down so the lab can run more specific tests.”
Mo nods, but her face is drawn, uneasy. “I’ve been trying, but I’m running into walls. Too many dead ends, too many people too afraid to talk. Gabriel was onto something before he was killed, but I don’t know what.”
Selene clears her throat. “Then maybe it’s time we talk to someone who does .”
***
The drive out to Cassie’s place is tense, stretching the silence thin between us. The further we go, the more the town fades behind us, swallowed by winding roads that cut through thick forests. Shadows stretch long across the pavement, branches tangling overhead like skeletal fingers.
Orion’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles pale, his jaw clenched as he focuses on the road, his usual sense of urgency gone.
Mo, for her part, is silent, staring out the window with her arms crossed, her foot bouncing anxiously against the floorboard. She hasn’t said much since we left. Probably lost in her thoughts. I don’t blame her.
In the back, Selene, Celeste, Bennett, and I are packed in tighter than I’d like. The weight of what we just learned presses down on us, thick as the scent of pine outside.
Aubrey is Bennett’s mother.
I still can’t wrap my head around it.
The woman who raised me—the woman I trusted, who was so composed and put together, who never once let on that she had a kid—was hiding this?
My stomach twists. If she kept this a secret, what the hell else was she hiding?
I glance at Bennett, but his expression is unreadable, his gaze locked on the passing trees. If he’s feeling even a fraction of what I am, he’s burying it deep. I wonder if he’s thinking about what this means for him. For us.
We grew up an hour away from each other. Is it possible that we’ve passed each other before? Brushed shoulders at a store, sat in the same diner? How many near-misses have we had in the last twenty-eight years?
The thought makes my skin itch.
I shift my focus to Selene and Celeste instead. Selene has one earbud in, but she’s not listening to anything—just an old habit, a method of grounding herself. Celeste, on the other hand, is staring at her nails, chewing her lip like she’s debating whether or not to speak. She loses the battle.
“This is some soap opera-level drama,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “Long-lost sons, secret identities, probably some murder—”
Bennett’s head snaps toward her. “Probably?”
She shrugs. “Just saying. We are investigating poisonings. I feel like a murder revelation is inevitable at this point.”
Mo exhales sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples. Orion grumbles under his breath about turning the car around.
Cassie’s house appears ahead before anyone can argue.
It’s an old place, tucked away between towering pines, with vines creeping up the wooden beams of the porch. Wind chimes of different shapes and sizes hang from the eaves, catching the breeze and singing a strange, melodic tune. A wreath of dried herbs and flowers adorns the front door, some of them faded and brittle with time.
A few garden gnomes peek out from flower beds, their beady eyes following us as we step out of the car. There’s a welcome mat at the door with words written across it, though I can’t quite make them out from this angle.
Orion parks, and we pile out, exchanging glances. None of us seem eager to be the first up the porch steps.
“You sure she’s home?” Selene asks, eyeing the place like she expects it to disappear into the mist.
“She’s home,” Mo says, striding forward with a confidence that I know she doesn’t feel.
I knock once.
Before I can knock again, the door swings open.
Cassandra stands there, hands on her hips, peering at us with wise, dark eyes and a knowing expression.
She’s in her mid-forties, with short, dark hair, in comfortable, practical clothes worn by someone who has spent over twenty years wrangling pre-teens in a classroom. There’s a tiredness to her, but not the kind that dulls her—more like she’s spent her life always two steps ahead, ready for whatever nonsense is about to come her way.
She looks us over, her gaze sharp despite the warmth in her expression. “Took you all long enough,” she muses.
Orion tenses. “You knew we were coming?”
Cassie chuckles, stepping aside to let us in. “After your last visit, I figured it was just a matter of time, I just didn’t expect so many people.” Her eyes land on Bennett for a moment, something flickering across her expression. Recognition? Hesitation? It’s gone before I can pin it down. Then she turns her gaze to me.
Then she turns her gaze to me. There’s an added layer in her expression. Almost like… regret.
I shift my weight, uneasy under her scrutiny.
“Don’t forget, shoes off.” She points to the welcome mat.
I finally read the words: Shoes off, snacks welcome.
Celeste grins. “I like her already.”
Cassie winks at her, then steps aside. “Come in, then. I imagine you all have a lot of questions.”
She has no idea.
As Mo steps over the threshold she tells Cassie, “We need to talk.”
Nodding with a sigh Cassie leads us to the den as she singles me out, “Theo, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen to get a drink for everyone.” Looking around the room she asks “Does anyone have any requests or is everyone okay with Strawberry Mint-infused water?”
There’s a collective shrug from the group as I follow Cassie into the kitchen.
The kitchen is exactly what I expected to see.
Warm, cluttered, homey.
Mismatched mugs hang from hooks near the sink, and the smell of cinnamon lingers in the air. It’s lived-in, a space that has seen countless mornings of hurried breakfasts and late-night cups of tea. Cassie moves to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of infused water and setting it on the counter.
For a moment, she just looks at me.
Then, softly, she says, “I’m sorry.”
I blink. “For what?”
“For not speaking up,” she says. “After your dad died. After Aubrey made sure people stopped asking questions. I should have acted. I should have spoken up.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. I tighten my grip on the mug, swallowing around the lump in my throat. I never allowed myself to think about it too much—the silence that followed my dad’s death. How quickly everyone had moved on. Had I been fooling myself all these years? Had there been people who knew but were too afraid to speak?
“You knew something was wrong?”
Cassie exhales, leaning against the counter. “Your dad… he came to me after he got his DNA results. Said he found something—something big. I could tell it was eating at him. Then he left to go confront Aubrey, and—” She gestures vaguely, her voice thick with regret. “He never made it home.”
I stare down at the tea, my chest tightening. My dad had been searching for answers. He had found something. And it had gotten him killed.
“I wanted to push for answers,” she continues, “but I was already the town pariah. Nobody would have listened to me.” Her voice turns bitter. “Not after what Aubrey did.”
I look up. “What did she do?”
Cassie’s expression hardens, and she motions for us to join the others in the den. “Come on,” she says. “I think it’s time everyone hears this.”
We step into the den, where the others are already settled—Bennett standing stiffly near the fireplace, Mo perched on the arm of a chair, Orion leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
Cassie takes a seat, folding her hands in her lap. Her gaze lands on Bennett. “Aubrey and I used to be best friends.”
Bennett’s eyes widen slightly, but he says nothing.
Cassie exhales. “We had been close since middle school. I was even in her wedding party.” Her fingers tighten around the fabric of her jeans. “But that night, everything changed.”
The room is silent, everyone leaning in slightly.
“George was drunk,” she says. “Really drunk. I went to the bathroom during the reception, and he followed me in. He cornered me and made advances. When I tried to leave, he pinned me to the wall.”
Celeste makes a quiet sound of disgust.
“Aubrey walked in about that point and accused me of trying to ruin her wedding and sleep with her husband. I tried to tell her what happened,” Cassie takes a deep breath then barely above a whisper continues. “But Aubrey… She didn’t believe me. Or maybe she didn’t want to believe me. Either way, she called me a liar and turned the whole town against me.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “Nearly cost me my job.”
Bennett looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “So you’re saying… my father was a predator, and my mother covered for him?”
Cassie’s expression softens. “I don’t know if she knew what he was when she married him. But she made her choice. And after he died, she buried every bad memory of him.”
Bennett swallows, his jaw tight. “And me?”
Cassie looks at him sadly. “If you’re her son like I think you are, I think she wanted to bury you, too.”
Silence. Heavy and thick.
Then Mo clears her throat. “That still doesn’t explain why Theo’s dad died.”
Cassie nods. “Right.” She glances at me. “Your father took one of those DNA tests with his students, as part of a genealogy project. At home DNA tests were all the rage at that point and we were curious to see if over time the family skewed your ancestry over time, like taking away or adding nationalities that didn’t belong. I honestly don’t even remember what it said when he got the results back, all he could focus on was that he had a nephew. But George had been dead for months before the baby was even born.”
Mo straightens and confirms what Celeste said earlier. “Which means Aubrey was pregnant before the wedding.”
Cassie nods. “Or she got pregnant on the honeymoon before George died. Your dad must have realized that. He went to confront her.” She hesitates, then says, “You guys got in that tragic car accident that night.”
The implication settles over us like a cold fog.
“Do you think she somehow caused his accident?” Orion asks, his voice measured, but there’s a sharp edge to it, a wariness I don’t think he realizes is there.
Cassie exhales, rubbing a hand over her face as if smoothing out the years of regret that have settled in the lines there. “I don’t know. But I know that after he died, she made sure no one asked too many questions.” She hesitates, scanning each of our faces, then adds, “There’s more”
The shift in her tone sends a ripple of unease through the group. The air in the room feels heavier, pressing down on my chest, making it harder to breathe.
“When George died on their honeymoon, I didn’t believe it was an accident, I still don’t.” Her fingers tighten around the hem of her sweatshirt. “He was an excellent skier. Grew up on the slopes, and could navigate black diamond trails in his sleep. There’s no way he would’ve just… hit a tree because he was hungover.”
A chill creeps up my spine. I was never alive to meet George, but when I was young I remember people would talk about how skilled he was on the slopes. The way Cassie says it, with such quiet certainty, makes something shift inside me, an awful realization curling at the edges of my mind.
“What are you saying?” Bennett’s voice is tight, and controlled, but I can see the tension in the way he’s holding himself, the way his fingers dig into his arms as he crosses them over his chest.
Cassie meets his gaze. “I think someone made sure he didn’t come back from that trip.”
A shiver runs through me. The thought had never even crossed my mind before Bennett came to town and started piecing things together—George’s death was always treated like a tragic accident. A drunk man making a stupid mistake. But hearing Cassie say it out loud… it makes too much sense.
“I tried to get the police to investigate,” Cassie continues. “Told them it didn’t add up. But Aubrey was a grieving widow—no one wanted to question her. And when I pushed harder? That’s when she turned the town against me.”
The pieces click together.
“She needed to destroy your credibility,” Mo murmurs, her expression dark.
Cassie nods. “She told everyone I had an affair with George. That I’d been obsessed with him, that I was bitter and jealous. She almost got me fired.” She laughs a hollow sound. “And then she vanished. For a year.”
Selene frowns. “Vanished?”
Cassie nods. “Left town. No one saw her, and no one heard from her. She said she was mourning, but when she came back, she was a different person. More… in control. She had the town wrapped around her finger.”
Mo leans forward. “Where was she?”
Cassie shakes her head. “I don’t know. But I do know this—when she came back, she didn’t want anyone bringing up George again. And she sure as hell didn’t want anyone looking too closely at his death.”
Bennett exhales sharply, running a hand down his face. His jaw clenches, and for the first time since we walked in, he looks… lost. “So let me get this straight. My father’s death wasn’t an accident. My mother left town for a year, came back like nothing happened, and then spent the next two decades lying about me.”
“Seems that way,” Orion mutters, watching Bennett carefully.
A heavy silence follows, thick with the weight of everything we’ve just learned. My mind is racing, trying to connect the dots, but all I see is a web of deception, years of lies tangled so tightly that I don’t know if we’ll ever unravel them completely.
Then Mo pushes to her feet, her hands curled into fists. There’s a fire in her eyes, a determination that makes my pulse spike.
“We need to talk to her.”
I blink. “What?”
Mo’s jaw is set. “Aubrey. We need to go to her.”
Orion scoffs, shifting against the wall. “Yeah, because I’m sure she’ll just spill her darkest secrets.”
“We won’t know unless we try,” Selene says, crossing her arms, her gaze flicking between us.
Cassie sighs, shaking her head. “You’re all walking into a hornet’s nest.”
Mo meets her gaze, unflinching. “Maybe. But I think we just found the hive.”