Chapter 13
“Ballard’s a dick,” Sloane said, dropping into a vacant seat at the breakfast nook. She tucked one foot beneath her before reaching a hand toward a towering plate of bacon Rowena had set on the table, which my sister quickly swatted away.
Rowena had loved to cook since she was a child. If she ever went missing in the manor, the kitchen was always the first place I looked. I usually found her elbow deep in some type of dough, her cheeks and nose littered with white flour, or studying various spices and asking the cook what each one did to the food. They never seemed agitated at her near-constant stream of questions. Instead, they smiled politely and indulged every curiosity.
“Oh, come on!” Sloane cried.
Rowena turned her back, picking up the large bowl of fried potatoes next. “Patience really isn’t your virtue, is it?” she asked, smiling.
“We’ve been waiting for you to grace us with your presence,” Jasper said, sipping his black coffee. “You can wait a minute or two to stuff your face.”
Sloane’s only response was a vulgar gesture in his face before she stole his mug and sat back in her seat.
“Good thing I prepared for that,” he muttered, pulling a second cup toward him. “Once a thief, always a thief.”
She raised a brow. “So, you want to talk about thievery? In front of everyone? That’s bold.”
I rolled my eyes, glancing toward Rowena as she sat beside me. She placed her chin on her fist, watching Sloane and Jasper bicker with glittering amusement as they began eating, arguing about a previous venture related to a barrel of wine, a menagerie, and a ringleader.
I stopped listening after Sloane began making a thrusting movement with her fist, which had Jasper spewing out a mouthful of eggs and howling with laughter.
Despite my inherent disposition toward constant irritation, it dwindled considerably as I stared at each person sitting at my table. Their eyes were alight, and cheeks flushed as they fought for breath. Even Rowena had a small tear leaking from the corner of her eye that she did not wipe away.
There was no sorrow or threat beyond these walls, no unknown chaos waiting in the wings to steal our joy. No, there was only companionship and laughter as four unlikely allies formed bonds beyond what our society deemed acceptable.
Even the dark cloud of doom that usually hung over my head could not stop my lips from turning upward into a smile. The room turned silent as Jasper and Sloane stopped mid-laugh, their mouths agape.
“Holy gods,” she breathed, staring at me incredulously before jabbing Jasper. “He can smile!”
“Shh,” Jasper said, eyes growing wide. “You might spook him.”
Though he jested, I sat back in my seat and drew my lips in a tight line before crossing my arms. “The moment you two opened your mouths, I regretted every nice thought I had.”
Rowena leaned into me, laughing as she wrapped her arms around my torso. “You love us, brother. Just admit it.”
“I will do no such thing,” I said, leaning down instinctively to kiss the top of her head.
I froze, lingering out of shock. Rowena only hesitated a moment before she squeezed me tighter, voicing everything she could not say with words.
Jasper and Sloane quickly averted their gazes, picking up their previous conversation as though they had never let it lapse. Slowly, I slid my arm out of Rowena’s hold and wrapped it around her back. I pulled her into my arms, letting her warmth fill the minuscule space between us.
How long had it been since I had hugged her? Had I even done so since our father died? Perhaps it was even before that because I could not even remember if I had held her at our father’s funeral.
Shame was becoming my constant companion, waiting for me around every corner as I navigated the maze my life had become. I hated the sinking pit in my stomach that seemed to grow with each new revelation.
I had been so detached from the people in my own world that the mere act of showing love a single time had my sister nearly in tears. Calia had been the exception, and even then, I had tried to push her away for as long as I could. It was not until the thought of going without her touch had driven me mad that I relented my hold a fraction of an inch.
Yet, it had not been enough. And if she was alive, if that vision was real, I would spend every day for the rest of my life worshiping her body as I should have from the moment we said, “I do.”
“I am sorry for my absence,” I murmured in her ear, low enough so it stayed between the two of us. We both knew the apology was not just for my actions of late but for our past. It would never be enough, and no measure of time would fully atone for the role I should have filled, but had left vacant in her life.
She shook her head, squeezing me once more. “You’re here now, Rion. That’s what matters. That’s all we care about.”
Was it that simple? I did not think so. Penance needed to be paid, and I had not yet worked out the cost.
The truth was that I loved each of them, even Sloane, though I hardly knew her. She was willing to put her place amongst her coven and her reputation on the line to help me, and that kind of bravery could not be met with anything less than the utmost respect. It made her one of us. A part of our family if she would have us.
The realization was startling. Terrifying, really. But it was a truth I had been toeing the line with since Calia had swept into my life like an unexpected force of nature. My mother had said love was a weakness; she had beaten and tormented me for it. But Calia had loved those around her without concession or promise. She loved because her heart was whole, and deeply in spite of her reasons not to.
That was how she loved me.
Resting my cheek atop her head, Rowena and I sat in our mutual embrace for the remainder of breakfast. Neither of us moved as we listened to our friends trade wild stories, occasionally chiming in to ask questions or clarify the truth of Jasper’s self-declared heroics. And when all our bellies were full and sore from too much laughter, I rose and walked away from the table filled with hope for the first time since Calia had died.