Chapter 29 Ophelia
Ophelia
I can’t wait to see my men, and I bite back a laugh when they open the front door, and Mal almost pushes Cain out of the way to get into the water tower and give me a quick hug.
He steps back and eyes me critically. With his usual perceptiveness, he sees something in me, and those gorgeous brown eyes narrow.
“Had fun while we were away?” He turns to Roman. “Really? While we were risking our lives?”
“Just Ophelia,” Roman says, making it clear he hasn’t gotten off too without saying anything directly.
“I suppose that takes most of my building resentment away.” Mal gives a sly smile.
Cain nudges him to one side, and he has a younger man beside him. They are both massive and share that all-American look about them that Mal and Rome definitely don’t have.
I glance between Cain and Samuel, and my face splits into a grin. “This is your brother,” I say warmly.
We never met properly as kids. I saw him from a distance a couple of times, playing with Cain on their land, but he never came over to our house the way Cain did.
They don’t have to tell me. They’re so alike in many ways, right down to their posture, that it’s easy to tell.
Cain turns to Samuel and signs something.
“He can’t hear you,” Mal explains. “Cain is just telling him what you said. He can read lips though, so if you address him directly and speak clearly, he should be able to see what you’ve said.”
I turn to Cain’s brother. “It’s so nice to have you here.”
Everyone is hovering by the door, and it’s making me nervous. Deacon is behind Cain and Samuel, and I smile at him. I notice some of the others are missing, but I don’t want to ask. I’m guessing their absence isn’t good news.
Unsure how to act around these two men who have just lost their father, I go into mother hen mode.
“Cain, are you okay?” I ache to throw my arms around him and just hold him, but what if it’s unwanted? What if he somehow blames me for everything that has happened?
“Ophelia,” Cain says, his voice low and deep.
“Yes?”
“Stop flapping and come here.”
My heart lifts at his words and I do as he says.
Big arms wrap around me, and I inhale deeply, the same way I did with Roman not that long ago. We stay like that for a long moment, and I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek.
When Cain steps back, I turn to Malachi and give him a longer hug, too. He buries his face in my neck and when his lips touch the shell of my ear, I think he’s going to kiss it, but he whispers, so softly no one else but me can hear.
“You stink of sex, bad girl. We’ll need to punish you for that later.”
He moves away, smirking, as if he’s not said a word, and my cheeks burn.
I glance at Deacon, hoping he didn’t catch any of that, but he’s pale and looks shellshocked.
I crash down to earth with a bang. He’s lost his comrades and friends.
And here I am thinking about sex. Maybe the Prophet was right all along, and I am a dirty sinner.
Shaking those thoughts from my mind, I focus on the men in the room.
I’m really not sure what to do in this situation, so I do what my mother would do when any of Father’s men had a bad shock. I offer them alcohol.
“You all need something to drink,” I say. “Sit. Please. Go take a seat and I’ll fix you drinks. What do you want?”
The answers are vodka, brandy, scotch, and from Samuel, when Cain signs to him, just soda, since he’s only sixteen.
I bring everyone their drinks, and they take seats in the living space. Cain downs his glass of vodka in one go and hands it back to me.
Silently, I refill it without needing to ask if he wants another. Roman casts me a concerned glance, and I know that concern is for Cain.
“Man, are you okay?” Roman asks. “What’s gone down is heavy.”
“I’m good,” he says. “It had to be done, and it wasn’t me who pulled the trigger in the end.” He sends a knowing glance to Samuel.
I turn to Cain’s younger brother, and my heart breaks for him. No child should have to do that to their parent, whether an adult or not. It breaks all the rules of nature.
Samuel smacks Cain’s upper arm and jerks his chin. Cain puts his drink down and signs, and Samuel signs furiously back.
Cain’s smile is grim. “He says it was a long time coming. That bastard.” Cain breaks off, shaking his head. “He arranged your kidnapping, Ophelia, and he ruined your life, and he wrecked mine, and Samuel’s too.”
“What will your brother do now?” I ask Cain, feeling a little bad that I’m talking about Samuel as though he’s not here.
He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I need some time to talk to him. He can stay here as long as he wants.”
“Of course,” I say quickly, even though a part of me, a small and selfish part, is disappointed because I wanted some time alone to connect with my men again. After all we’ve been through, we really need it.
Samuel signs again to Cain, and Cain shakes his head. “No fucking way.”
Samuel thumps his chest, and nods.
Cain hangs his head but then glances back up as he and his brother hold one another’s gazes for a long time. “Okay. I’ll come with you though.”
Samuel is the one to object this time, and once more he signs something.
Cain growls. “Of course, I think you’re old enough, but I don’t think it should all fall on you.
” He looks at us briefly. “My brother wants to go home to break the news to Mother, and to help her sort out anything that needs to be done. At some point, I’ll have to return home, too, but right now, I don’t want to leave here. ”
“You don’t want to be with your mother?” I ask softly.
Cain’s eyes, when they meet mine, are so weary, it’s as if he’s lived hundreds of lifetimes. “Ophelia, I’m so fucking tired, I just need some time to catch my breath for a couple of days.”
Samuel signs something else, and Cain nods. “But you take Deacon.”
Deacon clears his throat and speaks clearly, making eye contact with Samual. “I can be your right-hand man, Samuel, and I’ll back up the alternative story about what happened to your father, okay?”
Nodding as well, Samuel gives a small smile.
Cain turns to us. “I’ll follow him in a few days. He wants to break the news to her, and honestly, I won’t be much comfort to her anyway. Samuel was always her favorite.”
Tapping his brother on his shoulder to gain his attention, Cain says, “Don’t tell her what really happened. She’d never get over it. Tell her he died in a fight with our enemies.”
Samuel signs again, and Cain blows out a long breath. “You’re right, she might feel some relief, too. He did make her life a misery a lot of the time.”
The drinks flow, and soon, the chat becomes more personal.
The three men are trading war stories of the, frankly fucked up, things that happened during their childhoods.
They’re trying to keep it light, by only telling darkly humorous tales, but they’re still deeply messed up, and it makes my heart ache.
Deacon shocks me when he speaks up.
“My father once locked me in the cellar for three days with only a bowl of water, because I’d missed collecting a drug drop-off.”
“Your father is as big of an asshole as mine was, then, clearly.” Cain’s words slur a little. He’s a big guy, but he’s drunk a lot and had no food.
That’s something I can do to help. I can cook. Standing, I head toward the kitchen, but Cain snags me and pulls me onto his lap.
A small mewl of protest escapes my lips, but he just chuckles darkly. I’m embarrassed with his brother sitting by us and Deacon in the room.
“Cain let me up,” I demand.
“No. Mine.” He kisses my hair and breathes in.
“Ours,” Malachi corrects.
“She was mine first.” Cain kisses my hair again, and I freeze. This could go all kinds of wrong fast. Cain is drunk. He’s lost his father. Malachi has been on edge from the minute he got back, and Roman is injured and must be traumatized after what happened with my father.
For the first time in a long time, it strikes me how dangerous these men are. They love me, but they’re big, unpredictable, and at times, fucking crazy.
This situation demands I take control. I push myself off Cain and turn to him.
“You,” I order. “Go and take a shower. I’ll make food and coffee. And, while you’re at it, please show your brother the spare room. He can stay here tonight, surely? It’s too late to travel back now. Deacon, you’ll stay and eat with us, and you can sleep here, too, if you want.”
He smiles at me. “I’ll take a meal, thanks, Ophelia, but the RV is good for me.”
“Mal, you help me in the kitchen, and Roman, can you set out some plates, glasses and utensils?”
To my delighted surprise, all the men do as I say. Cain grumbles under his breath, but he pulls his brother up and slings an arm around his shoulder as he leads him out of the room, swaying slightly.
I have no idea what I’m going to make—it’s not as though anyone has done a grocery run any time recently—so I go through the contents of the refrigerator and pantry.
I find some pre-made packets of rice, plus some eggs and ham, some scallions and frozen peas.
One thing about growing up in the commune is that I learned from a young age to make meals from whatever we had available.
Thoughts of the commune immediately link my brain back to Daisy and the Prophet.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her face, and the blood on my hands after I’d stabbed the man who murdered her.
It’s as though I’m carrying a weight around with me, a heaviness in my chest, and even though I’m doing my best to ignore it and stop my thoughts from taking me there, I keep getting dragged back down.
Will I feel like this forever now, or will the weight of it eventually lessen?