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Of course.
Mum—Victoria—couldn’t stand the sight of Konnor. Called him‘the bastard.’We didn’t grow up with him.
My half-brother reaches out and grabs my dad’s forearm, squeezes it, and then goes back to his cards. They have a different relationship to the one my brothers and I share with our dad. Softer.
It’s still new, too.
You can’t clean an old wall without throwing white paint on it. Maybe that’s what this extension is, what Victoria’s absence is—it’s the fucking white paint.
Dad cracks his knuckles, drops his deal in front of him, inclines backwards with a sigh, and says, “Fold.”
I grin. “Losing hand?”
Gazing across the table at us, a powerful smile set on his lips, he says, “Not today, son. I’m winning today.”
“Will you be winning tomorrow?” I ask, but I’m not sure why. I guess I want to hear him say that he is staying this time.
“My boy—” Dad’s eyes fix on something over my head, so I twist to follow what has his attention. “I’m staying.” I stare over my shoulder. On the wall, hung for all to see, is a framed picture of a couple cloaked in shadows. On closer inspection, I can see it’s Konnor’s mother, Madeline, who died when he was still young, and my dad.
It’s a close-up. The photograph is old, their faces mostly shaded, but the outline of my dad’s smile moves an ache through my chest. They were in the dark—their relationship was hidden as they were both married to other people—but the love he felt is clear through the shape of his eyes and smile.
“You know, she was the wife of a very powerful man, and so,” he begins, and I return my gaze to him. “To protect her, I had to hide,se?” He exhales roughly. “I had to hide my affections for her for so long that…” He pauses, reaching for the words. Maybe he doesn’t know the right ones to use. I get that. “I missed when it changed, son. I missed when I didn’t have to hide anymore. That, I could love her. Feel her. I suppose leaving the city was leaving the pain, and hiding became part of who I was.” His thoughtful blue gaze drops from the painting to me, and he forcibly swallows. “I’m sorry, son.Sons. She would want me to be here with you. It’s where I want to be, too. I always did. It just…hurt.”
Well fuck.
Luca Butcher just said that.
Fuck.
Don’t cry.
I can’t even make eye contact with my brothers to see how they responded to Luca Butcher owning pain and loss, or my resolve will crumble. So, I inhale, pinch between my brows, and quickly wipe at my eyes.
I have no fucking idea what to say.
Konnor releases a hard breath, catching my attention. His eyes are glued to the image of the mother he never really knew. “She looks happy up there. Can I have a copy?”
“Of course. And I like to think shewashappy. I like to think I made her happy when I could,” Dad says, smiling. “Over in the cabinet. There are more. Go have a look, my boy.”
Konnor drops his hand. “Was losing anyway.” He walks to the other side of the room, retrieves a book from the wooden cabinet, and takes a seat on the leather couches that Kaya picked out for us.
Longing holds Dad’s gaze to the picture frame overhead. “I would have done anything for her. I was obsessed—amobsessed.”
“Speaking of obsessed,” Bronson clears his throat. Andhere we go…“Who remembers when this big dickhead”—he knocks Max on the shoulder— “fell madly in love with a sweet ballerina but pretended she annoyed him?”
I grin hard. “Yeah, he was like a dog with a bone,” I taunt. “No one was getting near that girl without losing a finger.”
Max hums, unimpressed. “Yeah, well, at least I didn’t have to kidnap her.” He smirks over at Bronson.
“Lady-nap,” Bronson, Clay, and I say in unison, and the entire table rumbles with laughter, the deep tone rolling around the new extension, filling it with warmth. I’m not sure I’ve heard them laugh like that…Fuck.I don’t know.
I pick up another card. A king. “So,” I begin, leading, “I’ll get to see a lot of you then, Dad. More of all of you?”
“Well, that depends on you, Xander.” Clay smiles smoothly at his cards, a message in his tone. He looks up at me, clear blue eyes like arrows fixed on my face. “When will you be back?”
I frown across the chips piled up around him, then over to Max and Bronson, who mirror a meaningful smile. “Huh? You having me committed? I haven’t lost my mind yet, arsehole.”
A chuckle leaves my brothers.
