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“Talk to me,” she says, her tone desperate and urgent, her movements practically frantic. “Are you okay? He’s who you want? Liam? They gave you a choice? This isn’t just about Ivy or not wanting to be with a politician, is it? Because I didn’t—”
“Mom.” Reaching across the countertop to stop her hurried movements, I decide to slice through all the buildup and just lay it bare for her. “I’m in love with him.”
Her eyes teem with tears as she nods. “I know you are.”
“How?”
“I heard it in your voice when we spoke on the phone—that night you went out with Scott Filmore. And after. And just now. It’s all over your face.” Her hand trembles in mine.
Apart from the aftermath of Ben’s death, I’ve never seen her this frazzled. It’s not news that she was worried about the danger, but from what I know now, that’s been ever present my entire life.
I squeeze her hand while trying to get a read on what’s going on here. “I wish the revelation of me being in love made you happy.”
“It’s the who that has me upset, Celeste. You’re so young,” she whispers. “Do you understand what you’ve done? What you’ve signed your life away to? He won’t leave that world for you.”
She says that as though he’s choosing them over me, but even I understand that isn’t a choice. And life without Liam isn’t a choice for me. Nor is life without Ivy and Wells, Ty, and Gage. It’s done.
Before I answer, I volley my own inquiries. “When did you know what you’d signed up for? And would it have mattered? Would you have left Dad?”
“We can’t talk about this.” She looks around like we’re sharing classified information. “But it was after I said yes. And, no, I was so starstruck and in love that it wouldn’t have mattered because I didn’t understand. I got you and Ben, and I love your father, but …”
But she believes Ben died because of my father’s business. While that’s not the whole story because Easton and all the other people hunting down that book had motives apart from my father, my father’s dealings were the reason Ben allowed himself to be in that position. No wonder she’s frantic.
And here I am, in possession of the very same tinderbox.
“I’m aware of everything. If it makes you feel better, I knew quite a bit before I committed. And Liam is fiercely protective. They all are.”
I’m not sure my commitment mattered so much because Liam said he’d claimed me before I officially agreed to anything, but there’s no sense in sharing that. The only issue holding me back before that was the disapproval of my parents. It was never the danger.
She pats my hand as the column of her throat rolls and pulses. “Fine. What’s done is done. But no matter whose protection you’re under or how much they love you, the only way to survive in that world—whether it’s The Order or KORT—is to prove you can withstand the depths of Hell. If you waver, Celeste, they’ll bury you.”
Her words chill the very marrow of my bones, icy tendrils slinking down my spine. She knows exactly what my father does. And it seems she may have just divulged that Eleanor Healy isn’t the only defected woman six feet under the Carver Homes developments.
Rounding the island, my mother sings out in her syrupy hostess warble, “I’m going to check on Rex and Gage. Eat that plate of food. You’re withering away.” But as she passes me, she offers a brisk shoulder squeeze with a hushed reminder. “Never let them see, always keep them guessing, and play their game.”
It was never about chess for her or how to land a politician. She was extending her wisdom on how to stay alive.
CELESTE
Once my mother sauntered off, I wandered upstairs to my bedroom with the thought of lying down until Liam was done speaking with my father, but that idea didn’t last long. After rinsing off in a hot shower, I slipped into some comfy clothes and traipsed around upstairs aimlessly.
Liam finds me in the second-floor theater room, curled up on the plush sofa alone—apart from the old ghosts. Phantom days when Ben and I would lounge in here to binge movies or sleepovers with Ivy when we hardly slept. When life felt easy. Or difficult for trivial reasons.
“What did you talk about with my father?” I ask without turning to see him.
I knew the footfalls were his because I felt him. I always feel him. He sucks all the oxygen out of a room, shrinks the space, and changes the very particles of the atmosphere.
And yet, somehow, he enables me to breathe like I never have before.
“We came to an understanding,” is all he offers, still hovering in the entrance to the room.
“Would my dad agree? Or was it the kind of understanding you and he came to on the phone when you had me bound and gagged in the steam room?”
He chuckles, like the memory pleases him. Honestly, it’s one of my favorites too—as twisted as that is. No one has ever fought for me like that. I mean, Ivy has always been my ride or die. And Ben obviously protected me over all else.
But Liam’s love is different. Passionate. All-consuming. He sees all my cracks and loves me because of them. He doesn’t just try to fill them or expect me to gloss over them to exude a polished facade; he shoves himself inside my fractured places without invitation. Because he can’t bear not to make me whole.
“This was better. I reiterated to him that you’re my forever in more respectful terms.” He releases a frustrated sigh, evidently still reeling from the concession. “For you. I’d do anything for you.”
