“I might,” he called back. “When you said you had dyslexia, I thought,Thank God, now we’re getting somewhere.This ghost of Mozart, who’s been haunting our house forever, is going to be what he’s supposed to be.But you’re going to tell me you’re going to throw it all away to work for Father’s business?”
“That’s what this is about? Jesus, come inside and we can talk about it.”
Silence. I tried again.
“Has a certain Ezra Wolfe been in contact with you, by any chance?”
Odin punched my shoulder.
“All right, all right,” I muttered, then louder, “You’re right, Tav. I had a straightforward path, and now I can’t see where I’m going. Okay? Happy? Now will you get the fuck off the ice?”
Octavian stood still a moment more. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
But he was already walking back toward us. I held my breath, listening to the ice crack and whine as my brother made his way back to shore. I aged a hundred years waiting for him to reach us. Odin wrapped a coat around him, and we three stood together, our breaths pluming, clutching each other.
Octavian grinned at me from under his curls. “Not knowing your path is better than locking yourself up in a box and throwing away the key.”
“So glad you approve,” I muttered. “Can we go in now?”
“Yes, let’s. It’s quite cold out.”
Odin and I exchanged incredulous glances, and we hurried inside, into the family sitting room. Odin lit a fire. Tav sat on the floor, warming his hands. I slumped on the couch, adrenaline leaving medrained, and shot Harper a text.
All good. Be up soon.
Glad to hear it but hurry,she texted back.Pretty sure I just saw the Headless Horseman.
I grinned.I will.
“She’s great,” Tav said, watching me. “Keep her.Marryher. God knows, this family could use ten more just like her.”
I put my phone away. “We can talk about my love life later. First, what the bloody hell was that?”
Odin nodded. “That wasn’t funny, Tav. What’s with you, lately?”
“Given what I have learned over the last year, I felt it necessary to impinge upon Orion the severity of the situation,” Octavian replied.
“Sure, what’s a little emotional blackmail among brothers?” I muttered. “You scared the crap out of us.”
“Good. But I knew the lake wouldn’t break. I saw an elk walk across this morning.”
Odin and I exchanged dubious glances. The whining crack of ice told us otherwise, but we were too glad he was home safe to argue.
“Besides,” Tav continued gravely, “sometimes it takes a brush with death to learn what’s at stake.”
“What do you mean?” Odin said, joining me on the couch.
Our brother’s green eyes—our mother’s eyes—gazed into the fire. “A friend of mine died by suicide three months ago. No, that’s not true. He wasn’t a friend. He was my boyfriend.”
Odin and I exchanged wide-eyed glances, identical bolts of shock running through us. Neither had known our brother was gay, or however he identified, but that wasn’t the point.
He was alone. Alone in who he was, and alone in his grief, just like me. Because we don’t talk about anything. Not a bloody thing.
“Tav…” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too,” Odin said gruffly.
