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“We’ll talk about this another time.”
“You can’t leave me like this. I deserve to know.”
But he climbs the stairs while I walk toward the back porch and find a white pavilion. In the middle, a swing flutters in the wind and I plop on it.
What did Cameron mean? I remember my mother telling me we were going on a trip. That night before, when my dad came to tuck me in, I told him. His brow furrowed as I asked him where we were going. I shoved that fateful day so deep in my subconscious, I didn’t realize that it was me.Myfault.
What did I do?
I yell my brother’s name as I break into a run toward the house. My brother and Kieran round the corner. I drop to my knees in the hallway, my palms covering my face.
“I killed them.” Through a sob, I hiccup. “I told him we were going on a trip. They planned to go away with me.”
Through blurry eyes, I seek Kieran’s and then my brother’s gazes. There is no accusation, but sympathy.
“I killed them.”
“You didn’t, our father did.”
“I’m a murderer.”
Kieran lowers and grips my chin, his touch anchoring me. “Don’t say anything like that again. It was not your fault.”
“It was.” To Cameron, I say, “That’s why you wouldn’t even look at me at their funeral. That is why you let him ship me away. You blamed me.”
I scream, exhausted by the lies, by the secrets, but most of all, by the guilt.
I am sorry, Mom. I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.
Dashing off toward the stairs, I collapse on the bed, feeling like a ball thrown from corner to corner.
Tamara peeks inside and approaches me. She takes a seat on the duvet.
“It was my fault,” I say through hiccups, rivulets of tears streaking down my face.
“You were a child, darling. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I didn’t know,” I say, sounding how I feel—broken.
“Of course, you didn’t. It was adult business.”
I sob in her arms. When my tears subside, I curl back in bed. I fall asleep thinking I will be strong and brave, but I doubt I will ever be happy. It’s like we share the same destiny. Mom was never happy, except for the times we were alone. Every time my father would come around, she would stifle a smile and her entire body would tense up. How could I have forgotten that? The renewed grief and guilt choke me.
I lie in my bed, the moon peeking through the curtains. Kieran steps inside the room, a vision of rugged beauty and strength.
“Come on, sweetheart. Dinner is ready.” Softness threads through that cold exterior.
I turn my back to him, lifting my knees to my chin. He approaches the bed.
“Don’t cry,” he says and wraps his arms around me.
I soak in his warmth, his male scent and distinct cologne that drug my senses. I grip his suit jacket and peer up at him as Kieran strokes my back.
“I can’t take it when you cry.”
I calm down, hearing the same words he said to me when I was just a child, when he cared. Maybe he still does. My body’sreaction to him and his nearness wreak havoc on my already hypersensitive system, but I can’t allow myself to be vulnerable. Never again.
“You have to eat.”
