Chapter 29
Sean
After coming our motherfucking brains out, I came back to the cottage to shower. I’ll admit that I do feel a bit better, not healed, but…lighter.
Once clean, I find Jace sprawled out on the stone-colored couch watching something on the television entirely in Russian.
“Hey, where’s Louhi?”
“She went out. She mentioned something about errands. I think that might be code for killing somebody, but I didn’t ask.”
He eyes me for a second before inclining his head. “Feel better? You doing alright?”
I underestimated the power of simply sitting on the floor with Louhi in my arms. That healed me as much as anything. I’ve never been good with my feelings and even worse with sharing them.
I slump into the adjacent chair, rubbing a hand over my freshly buzzed hair that I cut myself before my shower. I don’t know if I’ll keep my hair this short permanently, but for now, I appreciate the comfort of the familiar routine. “I’ll be fine. How about you? Are you okay?”
He barks a laugh. “Oh, fuck no. Not even close. But I’m making it. One day at a time until I forget what it was like to have my mother threatened and buckets of ice dropped onto my nuts.”
If that wasn’t the trustiest statement of all time, that might be humorous. “Speaking of your mother…”
I trail off, mostly because I don’t want to complete the sentence, but we should discuss this.
He closes his eyes and leans forward, his elbows landing on his knees.
After a moment, he turns his head, his golden-colored attention fixed on me.
“They already told your mom that you were killed in the line of duty. My guess is that they’ll tell my mom—” His voice splinters, and my chest wants to cave in.
Clearing his throat, he proceeds. “They’ll tell her the same thing.
The safest option for everyone is for us to stay dead. ”
I nod absently because I knew that was going to be the only viable option.
The pain radiating through my chest throbs.
I won’t be there to see my nephews graduate from high school or watch as my sister becomes a grandmother.
I’ll never find out if my mom finally retires or breathe her in as she hugs me.
Worst of all, I know the pain my death will cause for my mother and sister.
It’s like I can hear their keening wails from halfway around the globe.
“Jace, I’m sorry. I never meant—”
“Nah, don’t do that. The could’ve, should’ve, would’ve game doesn’t get anywhere.
We’re making the most of our current situation.
Plus, who knows what will happen in the years to come.
Maybe someday we can make contact.” His optimism is infectious.
I inject that hopefulness into my chest, even if I know deep down it’s unlikely we’ll ever be able to reconnect with them.
Grieving them will be like constantly scratching at an open wound.
As Louhi said, ‘everything will get easier with time.’
We each settle into our seats, slumping into our respective cushions as our minds drift to our families. I picture our mothers embracing as they fall to the floor together, their legs giving out as the weight of the loss crushes them.
Jace must be experiencing a twin vision, because he states, “Our moms have each other. They’ll be alright.” I know Jace is saying the reassuring words for his own benefit as much as for mine.
He’s right, though. They have each other in the same way we do. And I have the added benefit of having Louhi.
I readjust my sling to alleviate the throbbing in my shoulder. It doesn’t work. I don’t regret using my arm with Louhi earlier as though I had full mobility, even if I’m paying for it now.
“Jace?” I call his name, unable to look him in the eye.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure you want to stick around with me? You’re free, I mean.
Louhi and I could help you start over somewhere.
” Louhi wants to find her brother, and I already know I’d help her do anything she wanted, but Jace has a choice.
I don’t know how I’d help him start over when I don’t know what my own future looks like, but I’d figure it out.
“I’m not sure how or what that’d look like—”
“Hey, man,” he interjects, and I flick my eyes to his face. “I’m good. I let you leave without me once, and things didn’t turn out so well for either of us. Besides, somebody has to have your back.”
While I love Louhi and I’m glad to be at her side now, it’s nice to know Jace is along for the ride, too. That loss might hit me harder than my mom’s.
The cottage is quiet except for murmured, rushed Russian dialogue between the characters on the television at a low volume. “Can you even understand any of this?”
Jace flashes me a lopsided grin, if a smidge forced. “Not a damn word.”
I chuckle, and he continues.
“But I’ve been making up my own dialogue, and it’s even better than whatever bullshit they’re saying.”
I laugh harder, leaning back against the plush cushion. “Alright, tell me what’s going on.”
Louhi
A cloud of warm air slams into me as I burst through the front door.
My neck is tight, and my stomach churns with both anxiety and dread as I consider my brother for the thousandth time this afternoon.
But I stop short when deep belly laughs echo through the small foyer.
I stride into the living room to find Honey Eyes and Sean in absolute stitches, laughing like children, with a historical drama playing in Russian on the television.
“Did you hear that Anna showed her ankles? It’s given me quite the case of hysteria,” Jace states, his voice pitched in a falsetto while his hand clutches his chest dramatically.
“Scandalous.” Sean gasps mockingly, but it quickly morphs into boisterous cackles as he tries to gather himself enough to add, “Does Frederick know about your suffering?”
The two of them dissolve into another fit, their bare abs flexing as they double over, swiping hands over their eyes. Amusement washes over my face as these two beefy men laugh like school children.
“The fuck are you two on about?” I ask, and their sparkling gazes find mine. “Do you even know what’s happening on the telly?”
Sean shakes his head, but mirth flashes behind his lashes as Honey Eyes’s face lights up with a lopsided grin. “We’ve been making up our own dialogue, and it’s better than whatever bullshit they’re saying.”
I run a hand through the silky strands of my clean hair, tugging on the freshly chopped ends.
Sean assesses me, and I know he’s logging all the small changes I’ve made today, like my new clothes, my black manicure, and trimmed bob.
The corner of his mouth lifts approvingly.
I underestimated how good it’d feel to have Sean appreciate what I look like when I’m not having a blowtorch aimed at my flesh or running for my life.
My lips hitch, momentarily forgetting why I came here in the first place. “The actress on screen just said that her cousin was trampled by a horse.”
They make eye contact with each other, more peals of laughter erupting from them like a flurry of effervescent bubbles. “We like our version better,” Jace finally remarks, gripping his stomach as though it aches from the effort.
I shake my head, my smile dialing up another few notches. Sean looks happier than he has in days. Relief fills my chest like I’ve just been told that I’m free of disease. I’m glad to find them having fun together.
Desperate to unknot my stomach and combat the unease flowing through me, I suggest, “How do the two of you feel about the shooting range? I’m a bit…antsy.”