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I stop brushing my hair and throw the brush at the bathroom counter, where it clatters and bounces into the sink.
Damn him for doing this to me. If he thinks I'll go back to being the meek little wallflower bending to his every whim, he’ll be in for one hell of a surprise. The day I lost my mom… I lost a little piece of myself. I swear it died right along with her, and something else bloomed in that spot. Something different, wild, something that would never be taken advantage of again.
Growing sick of myself, I gather my hair up into a messy knot on top of my head and leave the confines of my bedroom to hunt Sebastian down. He spends the majority of his time in the study that used to be his—our—grandfather’s. Not that I would know much about him. Seb isn't exactly forthcoming with information. I get the eerie feeling he’s trying to protect me from something bigger.
Just as I expect, I find him in the study, a mug of coffee on the leather desk blotter, his feet thrown up on the edge of the massive mahogany desk.
The room looks stately. Shelves line both sides of the room, a massive fireplace near the door, and windows on the opposite wall. The space is too dark and formal for me.
How can someone relax long enough to work in here?
I cringe, realizing at the last moment that I’ve spoken the words out loud.
Seb glances up and smirks. "No one relaxes here. This room is mostly for show. Hell, some of these books haven't even been cracked open.”
I give a little sigh and shuffle to the nearest shelf, the hardwood warm under my sock-covered feet. Classics, lots of classics, with a few law books mixed in. Interesting. I tug on a copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues and smell the edge of the case. It reminds me of the school library, and the scent comforts me the same way I feel when I go there.
I gently peel open the cover, and the pages stick straight up, signifying that this one has never been opened. How sad.
I look from the book to Seb, who is watching me curiously, his feet now on the floor, his shoulders hunched as he braces his elbows on his knees.
"Did you need something?"
Is it too weird that I just want someone to talk to? Someone to help me figure things out? I tuck the book back in its spot and turn to face the desk.
"I need to know the truth. Am I Drew's sister?"
Seb huffs out a breath and rubs at his eyes.
“Do I personally think he’s your brother? No.”
I fold myself into the chair in front of the desk and stare at him, afraid that if I look away for even a moment, his response might be missed.
"Do you know more than you've told me? About my father? Or about yours?"
Despite our time together, I still can't really read him. His face is doing that I'm a grumpy hot boy thing that it usually does. All I can manage to do is frown. While it’s wonderful to have a sibling and someone to talk to, that only works if they respond. He of course says nothing.
"Cool. Glad we are sharing."
He blinks, and his mouth shifts to something that looks a lot like a grin. "I'll share what I can when I can, but I promise, I'm not willfully keeping things from you." There's a pause, and he ducks his chin. "Can you...would you be able to tell me more about what our mom was like?"
I won’t lie. My heart swells a little in my chest. Since I miss talking to her so much, Mom’s never far from my mind. I think the easiest way to keep someone’s memory alive even after they pass is to talk about them.
His green eyes mirror my own, and in some ways, it’s like looking at my own reflection. Every twitch reminds me that he's trying to keep his emotions in check, and right now, he's doing a terrible job at it. Not that I'm going to hold it against him. I feel like Sebastian has grown more vulnerable with me in many ways. I see sides of him no one else does, or at least not that I’ve seen, and that makes me want to get closer. It makes me want to build on our connection.
"She had a way of making everything okay. Not enough butter to make cookies, so use water and create a new recipe for our recipe notebook. Not enough money for new school clothes, so go to Goodwill and get double the haul. It was like no matter what the obstacle or problem was, she found a way to make it better. With nothing more than a smile and a hug, she made life easier. It’s funny, no matter how poor we were or how much we struggled, I always knew we’d have each other.” My voice cracks, emotion ripping through the words. I blink back tears, reminding myself that I don’t need to cry every time I talk about her.
Sebastian’s throat bobs as he swallows, and his eyes are trained on his hands. I scan his features, and I can see her there so easily now that I know to look for it. Her nose, and the freckles you can barely see that grace his forehead and the bridge of his nose.
I continue when he doesn’t say anything. "I don't mind talking about her. It hurts, of course, but I feel like the day I stop talking about her is the day her memory fades away.”
The urge to ask him a question in return about the family he grew up with, about the family who obviously wasn't the same as my mom, even though she might have come from them, sits on the tip of my tongue.
Regardless of my curiosity, I know I’m not ready. A tiny part of me wants to hold on to the image I have of my mother because I know when he starts to tell me things about our family, my thoughts will change, my feelings will get involved, and I don’t ever want to see her in a different way.
And while I don’t want to admit it out loud, I’m afraid of our family name and what it means. The respect it demands, the violence and blood it holds. I know very little, but I’m not naive enough to think that our family name was built on wholesome ventures. Sebastian’s thrown himself into the family business like he has something to prove, and that terrifies me. With Sebastian keeping company like Drew’s family, it’s clear whatever we’re involved in circles around danger, secrets, and violence.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be silent. It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around. I’m a logical person, my decisions are fact based, and I’m struggling with my anger and regret. There’s nothing I can do to change what happened. I can’t bring her back, and it kills me. I wish I had more time. I wish I could ask her all the questions… I wish for so much.”
