Although once we settle in on the sofa, and he starts flipping through choices, I find myself looking at the window and remembering that heated glare. I have to wonder if she’s going to let things go just because he wants her to.
Chapter 10
Kyran
Joseph:What are you thinking about tomorrow night? I’m here if you want to talk it over.
I appreciate his concern, but I’ll be damned if I open up and share with him when it’s inevitable that harpy of a wife will pry it out of him, if she doesn’t eavesdrop the entire time to get the news straight from me.
Tara sits on the other side of the sofa, twirling a strand of midnight-black hair around her finger. Her eyes widen and narrow according to what’s happening on the screen. I don’t watch a lot of TV, but I’ve heard this drama is supposed to be pretty good. I thought she might enjoy it. And she is riveted to every scene.
While all I can do is look at her when I know I shouldn’t and try to imagine how I’d begin to sentence her to death. She’s driving me out of my skull, but that’s not her fault—at least, not completely. I could use a little less attitude, but if I’m being honest with myself, I like her fire. I admire the hell out of the fierce love she has for her family. I know she must’ve been thinking about the loss of her parents earlier, on the phone with her brother, reminding him what’s really at stake. Family. One of the only true currencies in this life. She’s rich in that. I’m not aman often given to envy, but there’s a very solid part of me that wishes I had what she has.
The rest of me just wants her.
I’m like a child wishing for the moon. It won’t get me anywhere.
Let’s say I let her go. I might as well forfeit all authority and credibility in the clan. Those of us left are proud, stubborn. Devoted to tradition. The law exists and has existed for generations, and who are we to decide what is and isn’t worth following? I know that’s what they’ll think because it’s what I would think. It’s what I’m struggling with now. What kind of hypocrite am I if I use my position to get around what’s already been set in place? What happens if another clan member goes through a situation like this? Do I grant everyone clemency?
Heavy is the head that wears the crown. I only thought I understood that saying before now. I might not be wearing a crown, but my head is heavy. Almost as heavy as my heart.
Lucas: Status check? How are you holding up? Do you need someone to keep watch over her so you can have a few minutes to yourself?
That one is tempting, but I shrug off his offer. I know he means well, and I trust him above all others, but it would only intimidate her. She damn near died on the spot when Regina showed up today. If someone as big and imposing as Lucas arrived, I don’t think she could handle it.
And under all of this, running like a hidden stream, is the desire to pull the little wolf close so she can sit with her head on my shoulder and watch this show whose plot I’ve completely lost track of by now. What a comfort it would be to feel her against me. To be able to lower my nose and inhale her delicious scent. What would it be like to have her sweet, simple trust?
“God.” I’m almost startled when Tara suddenly throws her arms overhead and lets out a deep yawn. “Where did the day go? That’s how you know a show was good.”
Holy shit, it’s starting to get dark. We sat here all day, silent almost the entire time except when I offered something to drink or a snack. And what a surprise, I am no closer to a decision than I was before. “You must be hungry. I’ll scratch up something for dinner.”
She releases a tiny squeak that brings me up short. “Okay, no offense, but… You are not the best cook. Don’t take it personally.”
Her honesty is refreshing. At least she tried to be kind. “No offense taken. I tend to settle for whatever is easiest.”
“I could cook something, if you want. I know there’s food in the cabinets—I’ve seen it while you were in there,” she adds quickly, almost like she’s expecting me to accuse her of snooping. “Would you mind? I would be glad to do it.”
“Be my guest.” Her eagerness is something I find interesting, so interesting that I follow her and sit at the counter, watching as she slowly navigates the room, taking stock of what I have on hand. “A lot of it is stuff that’s been sitting there for ages,” I confess. It’s a little embarrassing. “I’ve been meaning to clean the shelves off for a long time.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. Besides, a lot of this is still good. Only a few expired jars.” She sets them aside, then goes to the fridge and looks through the vegetable drawer. Before long, there’s an array of ingredients on the counter.
I watch, fascinated, as she starts to peel and chop. “You know your way around a knife,” I observe.
“We had to learn.” She says it casually, not pausing in her work, but I catch the weight of that statement. She had to learn along with her brothers because her parents were suddenly taken from them. “But I always liked cooking. I used to watch mymom and ask so many questions. It must’ve driven her nuts, but she was always patient.”
“Maybe she was just glad to know she would be able to hand the job off to you one day.”
“You’re probably right. Cooking for all of us? It was practically a full-time job.” She wears a fond smile as she finds a small pan at my direction and pours olive oil inside. “So yeah, we learned fast how to manage things. I got the feeling the boys wanted to push things like this off on me, but I set them straight right away. I wasn’t about to become a full-time cook and housekeeper.”
“Good for you.” I can imagine that clearly. She is most definitely a ballbuster when she decides to be.
“I will never forget the first time Cole tried to make spaghetti.” She sets down the wooden spoon she’s been using to stir onions in the pan, then throws her head back and laughs. What I would give to bottle that sound and cork it for when I need a reminder that there’s a point to life. Reasons to live. Reasons to find happiness.
Once she finally calms down, she explains. “He figured he and Declan and Zeke were big eaters, which they were and still are. So he thought one pound per person would do the trick.”
Even I would never do that. “Oh, no.”
“It was an absolute disaster. Water bubbling over everywhere, burning on the stove. He couldn’t even fit it all in the pot, but he kept trying.” Love drips from her voice as she continues to stir, adding in garlic, then chopped tomatoes, which were pretty much on their last leg. I would’ve thrown them out, but here she is, turning them into a masterpiece.
