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“You said you were at the funeral alone. Why wasn’t King there?”
Val tries to lift a shoulder, but I’m holding her too tightly. “Why would he be? I didn’t expect him and Aspen to actually come when I invited them. Their family didn’t exactly like my mom.”
“So fucking what? He’s your brother!”
She shakes her head. “No, Dominic, it’s okay.”
“It’s not fucking okay. Don’t make excuses for him. You told him your mom fucking died, and he left you to deal with her suicide alone.” I’m mad. I’m so fucking mad. My sweet, precious little Valentine didn’t have a single person to count on.
“Dom.” Her tone is soft as she tries to comfort me. “It wasn’t like that. I don’t even think he knew how she died.”
“You didn’t tell him when you told him about the funeral?”
“Well.” She dips her chin so she’s back to looking at my chest. “I left a message.”
“Say that again,” I growl.
“I only had his office number. I left a message with his assistant.”
“And he never called you back.” I don’t ask it. She, at nineteen, left a message for her brother telling him her final living parent had died, and he never even called her back.
He’s going to pay for that.
“Don’t be mad at him.” She tries to defend her piece-of-shit brother.
“None of that is okay, Valentine.” I don’t care if he has the power of the free world at his back. I’m going to hurt him.
“It’s in the past. We’re okay now.”
“If you were okay, tonight wouldn’t have been your first birthday party.” I stroke a hand up her back. “What happened after the funeral?”
“I came home and went back to school. And that next summer, King invited me over to have dinner with him and Aspen.”
“And you went?”
“I went.”
“Why?” I can’t imagine letting all that go.
“Because I wanted a family.”
My eyes close.
I fucking hate them all.
Valentine deserves a life full of gold, and all she got was ashes.
“Ask me about the third funeral I went to,” she whispers.
“I don’t want to,” I say truthfully.
Val moves her arm from between us so she can wrap it around my waist, hugging me back. “The third funeral I ever went to was for your cousin.”
I breathe through the ache behind my eyes.
And I hate myself the same way I hate King.
That funeral was the day she woke up with a tattooed finger.
