Chapter 16 Not to Me #2
“Do you?” Casimir repeated, his voice a little harsher.
Be brave for your mates, I told myself.
“Yes, I do.” Taking a deep breath, I let it out in a rush. “And I want to stay. With you three. Forever.”
Zane’s grin returned, brighter than ever, while Koa’s lips curved into a smile. Even Brumous let out a happy yip, which made me chuckle.
“Good,” Casimir said with a nod, then his gaze shifted to the mostly empty brown duffle bag sitting in the corner. He knelt and opened it, his long fingers working the flaps free. “What’s in this?”
“Papa’s things. What I could save.”
My voice sounded small, even to me, and I hated it. But the memories rushed back like a tide, pulling me under: the flashing lights of the ambulance, the movers carting away pieces of my life, Arabesque’s cold smile as her daughters gleefully destroyed everything that had ever mattered to me.
Casimir set the bag on the bed with a gentleness that surprised me, his green eyes flicking to mine.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I hesitated, my gaze dropping to my toes. Brumous padded over, his nose nudging my hand, and I absently petted his ruff.
“Papa died in October. A heart attack, the paramedic said, but I don’t believe that. I think Arabesque was…” The silence shackle throttled me, and I thought of a different way to say it. “It wasn’t a heart attack, Simmy. I know it wasn’t!”
Suddenly Zane stood on my left and Koa on my right, both of them touching their hands to my shoulders, a silent comfort I appreciated more than they knew.
“When I got home from our neighbors, Papa was being loaded in the ambulance and they were already tearing the house apart!” My chest tightened and my breathing grew short and sharp.
“Amabel and Eluned, they took what they wanted and broke the rest. I tried to stop them. Eluned yanked my hair. His favorite fishing rod.” My voice cracked, and I pressed my lips together, blinking back tears, refusing to cry.
“Amabel snapped it in front of me. Like it was nothing.”
“Those fang-rotted cunts!” Koa snapped.
“They’re dead. All of them,” Zane seethed, his brown eyes burning.
“Seri, from this day forward, no one hurts you in any way and lives.” Casimir moved the duffle to the top of the dresser with deliberate care, his movements precise, but radiating anger. “You will always be safe with us.”
I nodded as I watched him pull out the conch shell, the purple ribbon, the pudding stone, and the remains of Papa’s fishing rod. His lips pinched into a thin white line when he saw the crack in the reel case.
Calmer now, Ko took the handle from him.
“Let me fix this for you.” His gaze held mine, gentle again, as if he could see my hesitation. “I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, but I can try. If nothing else, I can at least unsnarl the line and attach it to a new rod. Make it functional again.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. It felt like giving away a piece of my heart, but his gaze was so earnest, so full of quiet determination, that I found myself nodding.
“Okay. Just be careful with it, Koko.”
“Koko!” Zane shrieked, startling me, and Casimir caught him in a headlock.
“Shut it, Zane,” Koa growled, but there was no real heat in his voice.
“Oh.” My cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, Koa. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize. Nicknames are a sign of affection,” he cut in with a soft smile.
“And Z is just jealous that he doesn’t have one yet,” Casimir scoffed as he scrubbed his knuckles into Zane’s skull, making his messy hair even messier.
As the two of them roughhoused, Koa’s gaze didn’t waver as he stepped closer and slowly raised his free hand. Watching him with wide eyes, I waited to see what he’d do and sighed with contentment as he cupped the side of my face in his palm.
“It’s nice. I like it.” His cheeks flushed just a bit. “Mahalo.”
Then he dropped his hand, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and bent to examine the reel more closely.
I watched him for a moment, the way his fingers handled it carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.
There was something about the way he held it, like it mattered to him because it mattered to me, that made my chest ache in the best way.
A sharp yip pulled my attention away. Brumous had grown bored and latched onto the corner of my pillow, thrashing it like it was prey. Freeing himself from Casimir, Zane dove in to save it.
“Hey, furry butt,” he said, his tone more amused than annoyed. “That’s not a chew toy. Give it here before you rip it.”
Brumous growled playfully, tugging harder, and Zane lunged, scooping the pup up with one arm and prying the pillow free with the other.
“Victory!” he declared, holding the pillow aloft like a trophy. Brumous barked in protest, squirming in his grip. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
I liked that. I liked that Zane had a way of making everything feel lighter, even when it shouldn’t. As if hearing my thoughts, he caught my eye and winked, tossing the pillow back onto the bed.
“Don’t worry, wifey. I’ve got your back. And your pillow.”
I laughed, the sound surprising even me, and he grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
“The pup’s going to get more and more playful as he recovers,” Casimir muttered as he studied each of my Papa’s things.
I stared at him, my heart still tender, but a little less raw. Almost reverently, he picked up the conch shell, turning it over in his hands, the satiny interior catching the light.
“He and Mama found it on a beach in Florida before I was born,” I explained. “It was the first time they visited the ocean. We went every winter until Mama died.”
Casimir set the shell down carefully, then picked up the state fair ribbon.
“First place,” he read aloud. “What for?”
“His apple pie,” I said, wishing I could taste it one more time. “Papa grew the apples himself.”
He nodded, setting the ribbon beside the shell, and picked up the pudding stone. He studied it for a moment, then turned to me, his green eyes very bright.
“We’ll make a dedicated place for these,” he declared. “Somewhere you can see them every day.”
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. He turned to the dresser, arranging the items with care, and I watched him, my heart swelling with gratitude.
He might be stern and scarier than his brothers, but his actions spoke volumes. He was making a space for my father’s memory, treating Papa’s things with the same care he’d show a priceless artifact, and that meant the world to me.
As I sat there, surrounded by the three of them, I realized I felt safe. Not just physically, but in a way that reached deep into my soul.
It was more than I’d ever thought I’d have again.