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Tom nods. “I do, however, want you to explain to me why you thought it was okay to call in a debt on my niece, keep her here under your roof for six months, and then not tell me she was in trouble."
"We’re the Deana-dhe, we don't have to explain a thing to you," Arden replies coolly.
"Cut the shit!" Tom snaps, narrowing his eyes at Arden. "Haven't I been a good friend to you all? Haven't I welcomed you into my home countless times? I know exactly who you are, and out of respect I've stayed away this long. I did that for you, now I'd appreciate a fucking explanation. Cynthia ismyblood, and she has a family who love her and who are waiting to meet her properly. I have every right to be angry, so don't give me that 'we're the Deana-dhe' bullshit. It won't cut it this time."
"We did what we didbecausewe love her," Arden responds unapologetically.
"And you think that alone gives you the right to keep her from us? Feck, boy. That isn't love, that's ownership. There's a big difference."
Arden's teeth grind together and Carrick stiffens beside me, but it's Lorcan who speaks with a calm resolve, and I couldn’t love him any more for it.
"Cyn needed time to heal, and she needed us to help her to do that. Think of it from her point of view, Tom. She'd never met you before, and she'd been through something traumatic. She needed familiar faces. We were never going to keep you from her forever. We were just waiting for the moment when she was ready to take that step."
Tom considers Lorcan's words, taking a sip of his tea before focusing his attention back on me. "And have they taken care of you, Cynthia?"
"Yes."
"But not always?" he asks knowingly, a gleam of anger in his eyes.
Beast shrugs. "Youwerelittle shits to her."
"We all make mistakes," I say, cutting a look to Connall who shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "What I can tell you is that I am here with Arden, Lorcan and Carrick not just because they own me, but because I own them too. The past is in the past. We can't change what happened, but we can make sure we don't make the same mistakes again. I'm happy. I love them. There's no question that I want to be here with them. Will you respect that?"
"Aoife loved your father, and look where that got her," Tom counters. "Love isn't always enough."
"Love is more than enough," I argue.
"Yet your father's actions, out of so calledlove,killed her."
Connall clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak, but I shake my head. What's the point of him admitting what he did? Killing my mother has hurt us all so much already, what good would it do telling Tom the truth now?
"You know sometimes when I close my eyes and try to picture my mother, all I get is this grainy image, like a photograph that's faded in the sun. It hurts me that one day I might not remember what she looked like at all. That I won't see her smile as clearly as when my father made her laugh at something seemingly insignificant. That I won't remember how her eyes lit up when he entered the room and pressed a kiss against her forehead, not letting go for the longest time." I meet Tom's gaze. "He loved her, and she loved him, and whether you want to believe it or not, she was happy."
"You were a child, Cynthia. She died when you were four. How could you possibly know that what you saw was love?" Tom argues.
"Because when my father found her dead, he lost himself to a grief that he never recovered from. He loved her deeply, fiercely, and all the light she grew inside of him was snuffed out the minute her heart stopped beating."
"Your father is not a good man, Cyn," Tom adds, as if I don’t already know that.
"You’re right, he isn’t," I reply, heaving out a deep breath. "But he was a good man to her."
"He stole her from us," Connall says this time. "If he hadn't, she would still be alive today."
"If he hadn't,Iwouldn't be alive today. Everything happens for a reason, the good and the bad. We may not like it, but it’s the truth. I guessyoujust have to uncover the reason why things happened the way they did, to better understand the part you played in it," I say, hoping he understands my point without having to spell it out.
"So you believe in fate?" Tom asks.
"I believe that there are forces bigger than all of us. I believe that we're either here to learn a lesson or to teach one, even if we don’t like it."
Connall turns his face away, but not before I see the weight of his guilt. I understand the burden of it and can sympathise. In my mother's death there is a lesson for him, he's just got to figure out what that is, just like I had to do.
"That's an interesting view of the world," Tom replies, thoughtful.
"I don't know if Beast or Connall told you everything that happened recently,” I say, curling my fingers around Arden's hand, “But I lost a friend. Her name was Faith and she died in the most horrific way at the hands of Soren and his cruelty. I promised to keep her safe, I promised she’d have a life beyond that horrible place she survived for three years. But she died, and because of that I lost myself."
"So you're saying your friend died to learn a lesson? It seems impossibly cruel."
"Itisimpossibly cruel, and I hate that it happened to her. Do I wish every day that it hadn't? Of course. I believed so much that she would live.Ilearnt a hard lesson when she died. I learnt that I can't save everyone no matter how much I want to. I couldn't save my mother from dying any more than I could save Faith from bleeding out on that floor."
