“It’s nothing to do with you, Naomi,” he reassured.
“Hell, no.” She heard Paul’s deep voice, felt the dip of the sofa cushion as he moved to sit on her other side. “Naomi, you’re not to blame for your aunt’s actions. No one here thinks that, and you shouldn’t either.”
Across the room, someone was explaining to Nathan about Beatrice in a low voice.
“Oh, man, that sucks,” was his concerned response, and she felt more than saw his gaze on her. “Hey, listen, if it makes you feel any better, my dad’s a psychopath.”
Her head came up, and she turned to stare at Nathan with wide eyes, as did everyone in the room. A faint color filled his cheeks as a startled silence fell over the room. He cleared his throat, shrugging a little.
“Well, he is. He’s a monster. He hasn’t killed anybody that I know of, but he was part of that Klan rally down in Virginia where some guy drove his car into the crowd. I can totally see him doing something like that himself, he’d get off on it. He probably cheered the guy, if he didn’t egg him on in the first place. We know he was involved in the January sixth assault on the Capitol, too, though we haven’t seen him in any of the pictures of suspects they released. Yet,” he added darkly.
“My point is, ” Nathan continued, “who my dad is, is nothing to do with who I am, or my mom, or my sisters. We all cut him out of our lives, we want nothing to do with him. But I mean, I get it. I hate knowing I share the blood of a guy who’s a total waste of space. Really hate it. I hate knowing he’s out there, doing what he does, thinking what he thinks. Saying and doing horrible things to people. It’s not just what he’s capable of that I hate, that’s bad enough, but that I’m related to someone like that.” His fists clenched, his jaw taut with an anger at odds with his usually gentle nature. “I despise him, and as far as I’m concerned? The sooner he is no more, the better.”
Naomi felt a deep sigh come from her very depths of her soul. “Yes,” she agreed, grateful to him for putting into words what she could not. “You really do get it.”
Chapter24
Alone in herroom later that night, Naomi tossed and turned. The evening had stretched out at Nathan’s house, Liam having called and rescheduled the appointment with the real estate agent for the next evening. They’d introduced Jill to her new home, and the construction crew had hung around, tempting the little creature with bits of food, carefully vetted and approved by Nathan’s online search of what was appropriate for rabbits. Finally they wound up sending out for pizza. Nathan insisted that Jill stay inside with them for the evening, and was constantly on guard against the men feeding her bits from their pizza and cheesy bread sticks. The evening had only ended because everyone had to work the next day. Naomi had pleaded tiredness when they arrived back at the inn and escaped up to her room.
Now, however, so many things were swirling in her mind… her family, and Nathan, the clinic and her new friends, her new job, the jackalope (jillalope, she corrected herself with a giggle) of all things… she couldn’t make her thoughts stop long enough to get to sleep. Finally, she grabbed her laptop off her desk and wrote up an account of the day’s activities. She shot this off to Beth, along with some pictures and a couple videos she’d taken of Jill. While recalling all this made her laugh, it wasn’t getting her any closer to sleep.
Pulling on the long quilted robe she’d picked up at a trip to the mall before Thanksgiving, she stuffed her feet into the matching quilted slippers, and headed downstairs for the lounge. Maybe some hot chocolate could help her to relax. Reaching the lounge, she heated some water in the electric kettle, and poured it into a mug, along with a packet of rich cocoa mix. She couldn’t help a longing glance at the glass-domed stands of cookies, brownies, and other sweets, but sugar wasn’t likely to help things any. The hot cocoa was an exception because of its comfort food status.
With a sigh, she crossed to the loveseat before the fireplace, the fire now banked, and curled up, her feet tucked beneath her, as she sipped the cocoa. Tony, the shaggy white dog laying on the hook rug on the hearth, raised his head briefly to inspect her, then let it flop back onto the rug with a groan, although his tail gave one friendly thump. Maria, nestled in her usual spot by the dog’s shoulder, did no more than flick an ear in Naomi’s direction without even opening one eye.
Naomi had never seen either of the pair actually get up and move around, although she came across them in different locations all the time. With an inner grin, Naomi pictured Angus and Renee picking the dog and cat up and depositing them in a new location on some kind of schedule.
“Oh!”
Hearing the startled exclamation, Naomi turned around, to see Renee and Angus, hand in hand, framed in the doorway to the lobby. She smiled instinctively as they came forward into the lounge.
“I didn’t know anyone was still up.” Renee’s surprised gaze went to the clock on the mantel. “It’s almost midnight. I thought you worked tomorrow?”
“I do. I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “I thought maybe some hot cocoa would help.”
Under their sympathetic gazes, somehow it all came out. Her mother and Beatrice, her sisters. Her twin, Beth. Nathan and the jackalope, and Nathan’s psychopath father. Her own fear of turning Rogue, despite everyone’s assurances it wouldn’t happen.
“What if I’m secretly a psychopath? I mean, psychopaths are good at hiding what they are from everyone. What if I’m so good at hiding it, even I don’t know?”
The older man let out a guffaw. At least, she’d never heard an actual guffaw before, but if anyone had asked what one sounded like, that would have been it.
“Child, you are no more a psychopath than I am.”
She peered at Angus uncertainly, thinking of the tales she’d had of the mysterious sentient woods that ate unfriendly visitors.
“She’s got your number, Angus.” Renee laughed in obvious glee. “You go, girl!”
Naomi blushed bright. “I didn’t mean…”
Angus waved away her attempt at apology. “The point is, Naomi, that no matter what genetic predisposition you might’ve had toward turning out bad, it becomes a moot point against the strength of your own desire to not choose to do that. Do you understand?”
She nodded, reluctantly, but found an objection. “I don’t suppose even a full-blown psychopath was actuallybornwith the intention of growing up to be a cold-blooded killer.”
“Look here, young shapeshifter,” Angus came around the end of the sofa, taking her hands in his strong, leathery grip. “No one canmakeyou be anything you don’t want to be. Your mother and sisters, from what you say, spent twenty years trying to make you like them. Yet, here you are.”
“She always told me… my mother,” she faltered over the difficult words. “She told me, it was there inside me, that my cat was a killer, and I was holding her back with my squeamishness…”
“She actually told you that?” Renee interrupted, her voice filled with anger. “She told you your cat was a killer?”
