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He goes to say something, smiles so brightly that it reaches his eyes, closes his mouth and then steps into me, wrapping me in a hug. His voice is in my ear, “If anything happened to you, Sean would be lost. Thank God, you’re safe.” He pulls back and rests his hands on my shoulders to look me over.
I’m covered in grime but too weary to care. I don’t know what to say. I just stare up at him. Peter and Sean appear to be so similar but there’s one major difference—there’s light in Peter’s eyes. Hope. I wonder if Sean will ever get there and be completely free to love and laugh again. It’s as if Peter senses my thoughts because he says in a soft voice, “We all heal, Avery. Each at our own pace. Lean on him. You won’t knock him down, and you never know—it might be exactly what he needs to finally be happy.”
“Yeah?” I snort with an unconvinced smirk. “He needs a sad girl crying on him to make him happy?”
“Weirder things have happened.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Sometimes tears need to fall to make room for the sunlight.”
“Always a poet,” I smirk and watch Sean converse with Jon. Their conversation flows freely, and the apprehension, the wall that was between them is gone. Whatever sins that divided Sean and Jon were decimated tonight. I’m happy for them.
“You know it,” Peter smirks at me. It’s a smile nearly identical to Sean’s, slightly crooked and completely charming. “Seriously, Avery. I’m glad you’re safe.”
Sean and Jon wander over together, and Sean asks, “Avery, can you give us a few minutes?”
I jest. “Family meeting with Mom?”
Sean glowers while Jon laughs, “An alliance with the winter witch.”
I almost don’t say it. I don’t want them to think I’m naïve, but I’m too damn tired. “Your mother is a chess master—”
“No shit,” Jon blurts out.
Peter shoves Jon’s shoulder once, hard, to shut him up. And then Peter extends a palm toward me. “Please continue.”
I glance between them, the three of the Ferro brothers standing side by side. I don’t think they know, so I tell them. “You’ve suspected that you were the pawns and your mother was the queen. But you three were never pieces she was willing to lose. She was the queen—still is—but you guys are the one bit that ends the game for her. You’re the king. All three of you were always that piece to your mother. She’ll protect you at all cost and not stop until she’s won.”
Sean is taken aback a dark brow lowering above a sapphire eye. The corner of his lips quirks up, surprised. “You’re defending her?”
“No,” I say plainly and look up at the man I love. “I’m telling you what I see. You were never expendable. She just made you think you were. If I could have saved my mom from everything she’s suffered, I would have done the same thing.” There are tears in my eyes when I say it. “Sean, the two of you have been playing for the same team this entire time.”
“Why are you so certain?” he asks and I can’t blame him. It’s been horrific to watch Constance’s plans play out only to end up with another knife in your back. With Constance, there is always a reason.
“Because,” I confess with complete certainty. “I’m no longer on the chessboard. Distance makes it incredibly clear. So does hindsight. She tried to move all three of you out of check and the only way to accomplish that was to force you out. You guys were pretty much estranged when I met you. Now you’re not. Your mother is a frightening woman, but she had your back through all of this. I’m certain of it.”
Sean steps toward me and takes my hands in his. “I believe you.”
I smile carefully, feeling way too vulnerable. “You don’t think I’m foolish?”
He laughs, and it’s a deep rich sound. “Of course not. You have more perspective on this than I do. Can we trust her?”
I meet three set of blue eyes, one at a time, and then nod slowly. “I think so, but trust should be earned. Offering to start over is more than she imagines. She doesn’t expect your forgiveness. You can let things fall as they may, but if you want to be a family again, I could see it happening.”
Three crooked smiles on three men, each standing on his left foot with the right knee slightly bent, and sculpted arms folded across a broad chest. They nod once, tightly, in unison letting me know they’ve heard what I had to say. Peter’s hair falls into his eyes. When he pushes it back, he turns, followed by Jon. The two men walk shoulder to shoulder down the hall, away from us.
Sean steps closer to me, kisses my grimy cheek. “You're incredible. What did you want to tell me before?”
“We’ll talk later.” I wave a hand at him, gesturing for him that it’s all right to leave. “Go confer with the Queen.”
Sean smirks. “She won’t like that nickname.”
“It’s better than the previous one.” I grin wickedly.
Sean snorts and hugs me once more before hurrying to catch up with his brothers. They walk together ready to face whatever’s next. If that powerhouse learns to work together, they’ll be able to do anything.
CHAPTER 19
I’m drooling on myself and half-conscious by the time the doctor finishes with my mother. I’m still in Vic’s house, in a room down the hall from the Ferro clan meeting. My mom is lying on a couch with her hands folded together on her chest. She remains perfectly still, in a coffin-esque pose. The older man is wearing scrubs as if he were pulled from surgery at the local hospital. Good Sam, as the locals call it.
He’s a narrow man with sunken eyes, white hair, and a large hook-shaped nose. His features are sharp and unforgiving. He’s all angles and muscle, even under-aged skin with a sprinkling of sunspots on his forearms. He’s wearing blue scrubs with a white t-shirt. It pokes out from the V-neck top. He crosses the vast room where I’m sitting on the edge of an armchair.
He towers over me, and I rise. He extends his hand and speaks in a deep voice, like James Earl Jones’ baritone territory. “Miss Stanz? How are you feeling?”
We shake hands briefly. “I’ve been better, but not bad, considering everything. How’s my mom? What happened to her?” Then a bit of panic strangles me and I blurt out, “It is her, right?” I need someone to confirm this. I’m so afraid to accept it and the shit-ton of emotional crap that will come flooding in when I do.
The man bows his head and slightly wrinkles his brow as he peers over his shoulder at her. Mom hasn’t moved. Her chest rises and falls slowly with her gaze locked on the ceiling. When the doc lifts his head, he explains, “I can confirm that this is your mother. I’m afraid most of her fingerprints were removed. However, I was able to ascertain her true identity using her dental records. It’s her.”
“Thank you.” I’m watching my mother and a moment of silence passes. It’s really her. We get another chance.
“She went through a lot, Avery,” the man offers solemnly.
I’m almost too afraid to ask. “What did they do to her?”
He asks me flatly, “Do you really want
to know? Your brother was cruel and tortured her relentlessly. I’m shocked she’s still alive, to tell you the truth. Her body tells a graphic story of all she endured. Not speaking very much at this point is expected. Still, I can put the pieces together. I know what they did to her.”
I swallow hard and tighten my arms across my middle and hang my head, shaking it. “Maybe I’m a coward, but I don’t think I can bear it right now.”
He places a hand on my shoulder. “There’s not a drop of cowardice in you.”
I laugh bitterly and try to step away, but he doesn’t release me. “I doubt that.”
He tips his head to the side and meets my gaze. “Fear debilitates most people and keeps them from taking action. You did what you had to despite being afraid. You saved your friends and your mother.”
“I killed him.” I blurt it out and swallow a sob swiftly. My face crumbles as my mouth twists as I try not to fall apart. Tears flow down my cheeks in twin rivers. I hate crying, but I’m so weary that I can’t hold it back any longer.
I swat at my face, wiping the dampness away. “Why am I crying? Vic was a horrible person. I feel like I can’t breathe.” I clutch my neck and inhale sharply, trying to eradicate the invading emotion. I don’t want to mourn him. The residue of existence stained me forever, and I’m blubbering about it.
“If you weren’t crying,” the doc says, “you would be a horrible person. Avery, you’ll grieve his loss like he was family because he was family.” I feel his kind eyes on me, waiting for me to look up, but I can’t.
“No, he wasn’t,” I retort sharply, still wiping my eyes and cursing under my breath. “He may have been blood, but he wasn’t family.”
