Chapter 41
Wolfe
Iapproached my mother’s house, stopping in front of the short stone wall, remembering the time Lor and I had been sword playing on it, and he’d fallen and broken his arm.
I’d felt awful, but he’d bragged to the entire city about it, about how he’d gotten the injury during an epic fight.
Mother hadn’t found it as amusing as the rest of us.
I smiled at the memory, then took a deep breath and walked through the little opening and up the stone path that led to the front door.
Laughter rang out from inside, and I froze for a moment, taking a step back.
Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. Then again, when would I ever be?
I thought of Niamh, about what she’d say to me if she were here.
She’d tell me how much my family missed me.
How much I’d missed out on. How the next day wasn’t guaranteed, and I needed to make the most of my time here with them.
I knocked on the door, and the chatter fell to silence.
I rolled back my shoulders as the door swung open, Jerome standing there, staring up at me with wide eyes behind his spectacles. His hair had gotten grayer since I’d last seen him. Longer, too, now curling around the nape of his neck, and he had scruff that he scratched as he gaped at me.
“Wolfe,” he said, and Mother gasped behind him, whirling around, cheeks paling.
“Can I come in?”
Jerome stepped aside as I strode into the living area.
“Is everything okay?” Mother asked. “Did something happen?”
Cillian and Nevan had both stood from the table where they sat.
Not much had changed in the last few years.
The small room had two couches, both pushed under the windows, and a small round wooden table sat in front of them.
A rug lay over the wooden floors, one that I’d always slipped on when chasing one of my brothers through the house while Mother shouted at us to stop.
I looked down the hallway that led to the bedrooms, only two.
My brothers and I had all shared one room growing up, all of us complaining loudly about it like the little brats we were.
I wondered if the bunk beds that Jerome had built were still in there, if the wardrobe where Lor liked to hide during our games still stood.
“Wolfe.” Mother grabbed my hands, hers so tiny compared to mine. “What’s going on?” The hope in her voice broke my heart.
“I’m here for dinner,” I said, thinking of Niamh, how happy she’d be to see this. She’d come next month, but tonight, I needed to do this alone.
She let out a little sob, then turned, sniffling as my brothers both gave their nods of approval, Cillian smiling like an idiot and Nevan with a small smirk.
Mother turned back around, a bright smile on her face, eyes shining so bright. “Well, you better wash up in the water barrel outside. I don’t want to see any dirt under those nails.”
I let out a laugh, looking down at my hands. Some things never changed. “Yes, Mother. I’ll go wash up and be right back.”
I turned and went outside, stopping at the barrel next to the door, where fresh water brimmed to the top.
“We’ve really missed you, you know,” Jerome said from behind me as I scrubbed my hands with the bar of soap that sat on the windowsill. He came to a stand beside me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not even sure what I was saying sorry for. Everything, maybe.
“I know,” he said back. “I know you are. I also know that I just want my son back.”
I stiffened, the water sloshing against my hands suddenly feeling ice cold. I waited for him to tell me that it was too painful to see me, that seeing me just reminded him of Lor, how it was my fault his oldest son was gone.
Then I felt Jerome’s arms around me, and I turned into his hug. “And I finally got him,” he said, voice muffled against my shoulder.
My eyes filled with tears. I’d been so stupid all these years, thinking that I was doing everyone a favor by staying away, that I was saving them pain and unnecessary grief. I’d been adding to it all along, but I’d been too scared to admit it.
Jerome pushed me at arm’s length, both of us sniffling and wiping our tears. “Well, your mother’s going to have a fit about that cut on your arm.” He nodded to it. “Have you seen Nevan about it?”
“I will,” I said, walking back into the house.
“Uh-huh. Well, you better do it soon or suffer her wrath.”
I leaned back in my chair after a dinner of stuffed potatoes and roasted carrots, my stomach full.
“You have a little something.” Cillian gestured to my beard, wrinkling his nose. “I have no idea why Niamh is attracted to you.”
“Wait till she sees him eat,” Nevan said under his breath. “They’ve been engaging in a lot of other activities lately, so she hasn’t been exposed to this side of him yet.”
I took a roll and launched it at Cillian’s head, and he ducked. “Hey!” He cocked a brow. “Missed.”
“Rafe Wolfgang,” Mother said. She blotted her face with her napkin, but I knew she was hiding a smile underneath. “You are forty-two and much too old to be engaging in such childish activities.”
“And you!” She pointed at Cillian. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.”
Nevan smirked until Mother shook her finger at him. “That goes for you as well, sir.”
“Sorry,” we all mumbled, while Jerome smiled broadly, patting his belly.
“Were you going to introduce me to Niamh any time soon?” Mother asked, her fiery gaze on me.
I scratched the back of my neck. “I thought you’d already met her.”
“Yes,” she said, exasperated. “When Cillian brought her. But I haven’t met her since you two started courting.”
“I’ll bring her to dinner next month.”
“So you’re coming again?” Hope filled her voice.
“Yes. I’ll be here every month.”
She gave me a watery smile, and Cillian cleared his throat. “If he doesn’t somehow screw things up with Niamh in the next month, that is.”
“I won’t,” I said, voice fierce, and approval shone in Cillian’s eyes. “I’ll work every day to show her I deserve her.”
Nevan pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Well, I’m happy for you two. Hopefully you’ll be less grumpy with her around.”
“Not likely,” Cillian mumbled, and I was tempted to throw another roll but thought better of it when Mother cleared her throat.
“And what about you two?” She looked at Nevan and Cillian, who both groaned.
“I have work to focus on,” Nevan said while Cillian said, “It’s out of my hands,” both of them a little too happy about their excuses.
Mother desperately wanted to see us all in love and happy, and as much as I was happy with Niamh, I wasn’t sure my brothers would follow the same path. Neither of them seemed remotely in a hurry to find love. Then again, I hadn’t been either.
“You two could learn from your older brother. He must be doing something right to have won the affection of such a lovely woman. What are your excuses?”
Jerome stood, chair scraping across the floor. “That’s my cue to go wash dishes.”
Cillian pressed his hands against his chest. “I’m literally a high prince. What more could a woman want?”
Nevan snorted until Mother turned her steely gaze on him and his smile disappeared. “I’m an alchemist, and I’m really . . . smart,” he finished, that last word coming out as a mumble.
I could practically hear Mother’s eye roll.
“Give them time, Karina,” Jerome called from the kitchen where he dried dishes that lifted from the basin, floating toward him.
Probably another potion Nevan was testing.
Mother and Niamh would get along well, and Jerome would likely be in the library daily, checking out books and asking Morton to eat them all and give him summaries.
Oh, godwitch. Jerome, Morton, and Nevan.
They’d be insufferable at family gatherings, talking books and science, and for some reason, that didn’t make me as grumpy as it should have.
I glanced at Mother, catching her staring at a painting on the wall of our family, a sadness in her eyes as she looked at Lor.
I instantly sobered as Nevan and Cillian argued about who should find love next.
“You need a queen,” Nevan said.
“I literally cannot choose one. You, however, can go find any lovely lady in this city to marry.”
Mother continued staring at the painting, and I knew I needed to tell them about Lor before I lost my courage.
“Are you staying for dessert?” Mother asked, her gaze swinging back to me. “Jerome made a delicious sweet potato pie.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Excellent!” Mother clapped her hands together and reached for the pie server. When I grabbed her hand to stop her, her brows crinkled.
“Actually, there’s something I have to tell you all first. And it’s about Lor.”