Page 10 of Knot Your Kismet

Touching my fingers to the cool handle of the dark wooden door, I finally gather my nerve and push it open. My hand flies to my mouth, and I stifle an unexpected cry. I didn’t know that Pack Kismet brought my mom home. Henry too. I guess it’s not uncommon. They would never allow a body to just remain in a cold morgue. Funerals happen quickly, and it looks as if a mortician has already dressed Mom for her final rest.

My mouth quivers as another sob wracks my chest. I wasn’t prepared to see her like this. I wasn’t prepared to see her at all. A huge, dominant part of me wants to run away, but it’s as if something demands I stay here.

“Mom,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Oh, Mom. How could this have happened?” Swiping my hands over my face again, I try my best to rid the tears from my cheeks, but they just won’t stop flowing. I can feel myself breaking, piece by piece, falling around me. Except I still stand tall. I don’t vanish into nothing.

My watery eyes protect me from facing the reality in front of me. I rush toward her bed and touch my hand to her cold cheek, her makeup heavy and unlike anything she would ever wear. I hate it. I hate everything about this.

“This is a nightmare. This is all just a nightmare. You have to tell me this is a joke,” I say, tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling. “You can’t be dead. I’m not ready. I’m still trying to find my way. I need you.” I realize now that it’s true, and it’s not just because she and Henry have been paying for my independence. I need her guidance. I need to know what to do now. I need to know how to handle this situation. Because nothing could have taught me or prepared me for this.

Something comes over me and I yell out and swing, punching the headboard of the gigantic bed, making it seem as if Mom and Henry are asleep. A blanket is pulled up to their chests, hiding any damage caused by the wreck. I can barely even see the cuts and bruises on their faces because of the heavy postmortem makeup.

Pain screams from my fingers, but it doesn’t stop me from swinging again. The pain helps distract me from everything else.

“Calista, please. Lis, you have to stop. You’re hurting yourself.” The familiar voice doesn’t snap me from my grief-filled rage. But two strong arms do.

“No! Let go of me!”

“Lis, please. I’m begging you. Please. I can’t let you hurt yourself.”

“I’m not! I just—”

“I’m so sorry, Lis. I’m so, so sorry.” It’s the first time Lucas has said anything to me. He was quiet the entire car ride from Nevada, and he didn’t even acknowledge me when we arrived here. He disappeared before I could even get in the door.

He holds me tight, pressing his chest into my back, his arms stopping me from swinging again. I wriggle and fight him, trying to break his hold, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than me. He has an advantage because he hugs me from behind.

“Let me go! Don’t touch me,” I snap, stomping my heel into his foot.

He grunts and finally does what I ask, but I don’t think it’s willingly. I know I hurt him, because he is barefoot. Spinning, I face him and jab my finger to his chest. “Are you stalking me? What are you doing here?”

Lucas raises his hands in defeat and takes a step back out of my reach. His hazel eyes shine with redness, but I can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion or grief. Maybe both. Unlike his brothers, Lucas only resembles Henry faintly with his similar nose. He looks like his mom, who I’ve only seen in framed pictures along with many others on a table in the living room. The two of them have the same light brown hair and hazel eyes, full lips, and straighter brows.

“I’ve been here the whole time. I slept here.” He points to a large recliner in a sitting area with a pillow and blanket on it. “It is my duty to watch over them.”

I open and close my mouth, unsure of what to say. He saw everything. He heard everything. And no one should have seen me like that. I straighten my back, building steel walls around me to protect myself. I know I shouldn’t be ashamed, but crying is not a good look on me. Neither is grief.

And again, it turns into anger.

“You should have made it known you were in here,” I say, tightening my fingers into fists. “You guys should have told me they were in here.” I don’t have to point to tell Lucas who I’m talking about. We both already know. Their presences are still powerful even though they are not spiritually here any longer.

“I was asleep. It’s been a long night. I’m sorry. This was not how I wanted today to go. Didn’t Nolan tell you that we were having breakfast this morning to go over things?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know.” If Nolan did tell me, I wasn’t listening. There was nothing he could tell me last night that would make me change my mind about leaving my apartment in the Omega Resort.

He sighs and looks at his watch. “It doesn’t matter. Come on, Lis. Let’s go find Nolan and Jensen. It’s time we all had a talk. I don’t want something like this happening again.” He waves around the room, addressing the fact that I lost my shit, seeing our parents.

I want to argue and tell him to leave. I want to tell him that I need time.

But time is all I have right now.

And I do want answers. I want to know what they plan to do with me.

I want to know what happens now.

7

Brothers

Lucas