Chapter 41
Remi
I sought no crown, no warrior’s fame,
Just silence for my name.
But silence burns when ghosts return,
And drag me through the flame.
“I don’t like smoothies,” Mal repeated for the third time.
“Cool story, bro. You’ll like this one.”
She let out a frustrated sound and crossed her arms. It reminded me that she was a nine-year-old little shit, even when she acted like a grumpy old man sometimes. Slinging my arm over her shoulders, I guided her into the shop.
“Oh, yeah. This is my buddy, Oli.”
Oli walked forward slowly, though I knew that he was dying to leap like a damn frog if I’d allow it. The excitement was written all over his face. Dropping into a crouch, he made himself smaller than her.
“Hey, Mal. I’ve heard so much about you.”
When she didn’t respond, his eyes flicked up to me. There wasn’t an ounce of trepidation there, nor was he at all bothered by her silence. If anything, he was probably ecstatic that he had a nut to crack. Give this man someone to figure out and he’d be as occupied as a raccoon in a dumpster buffet.
“If I tell you an embarrassing story about Remi, will you say just one word to me?”
She twisted her lips as she thought about it, then lifted her shoulders.
“Hmm, I guess I’ll do it anyway.” He straightened and shot me a grin. “Okay, so picture this. Remi, right? Weird, awkward as heck Remi, back when he was a teenager. We were living in this house together and our foster parents sort of disappeared. Poof! Gone with no trace.”
Mal blinked slowly as Oli talked. I wasn’t sure if she was absorbing or actually dying inside. While he told the story, I ordered us three drinks.
“So, we’d gone, like, a full day without food,” he continued.
“He was, what, fifteen, Rem?” I nodded. “I was twelve, almost thirteen. We’re two years and two months apart, by the way.
Anyway, he decided to make us pancakes. He’d never made pancakes in his life, but he got it in his head that he could do it, and there wasn’t really any food in the house because those people were no-good check collectors. ”
“Oli.”
“Right. Uh, where was I?”
“No-good check collectors,” Mal replied. Her voice was more inflectionless than usual, but it made Oli perk up.
“Holy crap,” he mouthed to me. “Well, Remi was feeling pretty confident about himself when he managed to whip up the batter. He told me that he could flip the thing like the chefs do on TV. Long story short, he couldn’t.
It hit the floor and exploded because the inside was raw.
He gave it a funeral. Like, an honest-to-God moment of silence before making another one.
He said, and I quote, ‘He died too soon, but he died golden.’”
Ducking my head, I laughed at the memory.
He’d left out the part where I scooped what I could back into the pan to cook the rest of the way since we were terrified Rob would find out we’d wasted food.
There may have been dirt and God knows what else in it, but nobody could say we weren’t committed to the cause.
The woman behind the counter called my name and slid the drinks over. Grabbing three straws, I passed them to the others.
“You’ll like it,” I insisted when Mal gave me a look of absolute disgust.
“What’s wrong with smoothies?” Oli asked.
“I don’t think she likes the texture.”
“Seeds,” she muttered. “Chunks. Stringy.” She emphasized with a dramatic gag.
“Luckily for you, I had them filter out the seeds and double-blend it. They’re cool like that here.”
Maintaining her repugnant expression, she took a tiny sip of it. I watched her for any sign of nausea or maybe anger. I had a feeling she’d throw the thing at me if she decided I’d lied to her.
“Well?” I prompted.
Her head tilted side to the side for a long moment. “Okay.”
She started toward the door, leaving me in disbelief. “Okay?” I said to Oli. “I fucking told you I’d get her to like it.”
“Time to get you a ‘World’s Best Stepdad’ shirt.”
“Abso-freaking-lutely.” Clapping him on the shoulder, I followed after Mal.
I was about to say something to Oli when I heard a shriek. Her cup hit the ground, sending red liquid in every direction. Flashes erupted all around me, along with the chatter of demanding voices. I couldn’t sort through them, nor did I have any desire to.
Oli jumped into action before I did. He rushed forward and planted himself in front of Mal as he held up his hand to block the cameras.
I came up behind her, wanting to grab her and run but knowing that she wasn’t in the right headspace for it.
If she panicked and fought me, everyone here would capture it.
“I need to pick you up,” I said quietly.
She stepped forward, then realized that Oli was in front of her. When she moved back, she bumped into me. Her hands came up to cover her ears, and she began to rock frantically.
“Mr. Keane,” one of the people said, trying to shove a microphone past Oli. “Do you have a moment to answer some questions?”
“Care to comment on the upcoming interview?”
The flashes blinded me, and I turned my head to the side. My heart raced with fear and hopelessness as I watched Mal devolve into sensory overload. The way her shoulders shook snapped me back into focus, and I knew what I had to do.
“God damnit,” I muttered before I scooped her up.
“No,” she cried.
“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s me.”
She shook her head, but I didn’t have time to argue with her.
“Mr. Keane,” multiple people called as I stood.
“What do you think of Mrs. Kessler’s—”
“—source—”
“—interview—”
“What do you know about—”
Oli stuck behind me, blocking them the best that he could. I broke into a run, tucking Mal against my chest to make sure none of the cameras would get her face. If she ended up in an article again, I was going to raise fucking hell.
Her entire body shook, and she said something over and over again. As we gained distance from the reporters, I realized what it was.
“Raven. Raven. Raven, raven, raven.”
With each one, her breaths hitched upward. I stroked my fingers through her hair and looked over my shoulder at Oli.
“She’s going to hyperventilate. We need out of here now.”
“My car’s behind the bar,” he said.
One of the reporters was right on our heels, and Oli whirled around. It spooked her enough that she skidded to a stop. Without missing a beat, he urged me forward.
“Should I tell them I know Judo or something?” he asked.
“You’re not Japanese.”
He scoffed. “It’s a learned skill, dummy.”
“Let’s focus on getting the fuck out of here, okay?”
By the time we rounded the corner and dipped into the alley behind the bar, my lungs were on fire. Oli unlocked his Soul, then opened the back door for me. I climbed in, not letting go of Mal. Without having to be told, he took off in the direction of Amir’s house.
*****
The front door slammed, then heavy footsteps barreled through the entryway. Oli tensed on the couch, so I reached over to squeeze his hand, just enough to remind him that things were okay.
“Where is she?” Amir demanded.
Avery stood from the chair. “She’s in her room. I gave her some tea to help her relax.”
He started toward the hallway, but Avery took his arm to stop him. “I think she’s sleeping now,” she said.
Letting out a shaky breath, he dropped into a seat and cradled his head. “How the hell did this happen?”
“It’s my fault.” My voice came out clear and level, a matter-of-fact statement with no room for debate. “I took her out for a smoothie.”
“It’s not your fault,” Avery scolded. “I told you it was fine for you to take her for the day. None of us could’ve known you’d be bombarded.”
“Why were we bombarded?” Oli asked.
Amir pulled out his phone and unlocked it before he tossed it onto the coffee table. I’d already seen the article; I just hadn’t wanted to bring it up to Oli.
“Are you kidding me?”
And that was why.
“It’s not important right now,” I sighed.
“Not important?” he repeated. “This mother—” He took a deep breath and lifted his chin.
“This woman wants to take another swing at you after everything you’ve done to turn things around?
And . . .” His brows knitted together as he read further.
“‘A source close to Remi Keane’s childhood.’ Who . . .”
His eyes met mine, and I gave him the slightest shake of my head. The darkness that swirled inside him was something I loathed to see.
“Remi, I would like to borrow your gun,” he said calmly. “No particular reason, of course.”
“Oli, breathe.”
“Me breathe? How ‘bout you breathe?”
“I’m breathing just fine.”
His eyes narrowed as he examined me. When there was a knock at the door, he jumped to his feet. He was still watching me as he walked toward it.
“What’s his deal?” Amir asked.
“You think I’m the only one fucked up from the past?” I rubbed my temples. “I’ve never quite figured out if Oli is remarkably well-adjusted or if he simply went so far over the deep end that he ended up back in some version of sanity.”
“That’s just what we need right now.”
I waved my hand. “He’s fine.”
“A visitor,” Oli announced when he came back into the room. “Yours, I presume?” He looked at Amir, who got to his feet when he saw Renshu.
“I told you not today.”
Renshu’s eyes went around the room to each of us. “It’s not exactly negotiable right now.” Oli was giving him a death glare, but the guy didn’t seem put off by it. If anything, it was the opposite.
Oli let out a derisive ‘hmph’ before he returned to sit beside me. Trying to tame the protective toxicity that had come out, I put my hand on his knee. With my other one, I sent a text to his fiancé so that he could come help me out. I loved my best friend, but I had a lot to deal with right now.
The guilt was like a vice inside my chest, choking me with every breath. I’d done everything I could, but Mal had still been put in a dangerous position. And at the end of the day, it was entirely my fault.