Even if it saddened me.
I thought of him earlier, shooting the shit as he strolled into the cafeteria, two cronies of his at his back, had seen how every girl looked at him, how every guy wanted to be like him, and wondered how that had happened.
I mean, I’d been in school with him at the time.
I should have seen the evolution of his character. From the underdog twin, always in Cain’s shadow to, somehow, taking Cain’s place.
“You didn’t know Granddad was leaving me a trust fund?”
“No, I didn’t. How many damn times, Adam?” Robert groused. “If I’d known I’d—”
“What? Changed his mind?” Adam scoffed.
“Yeah, you know I would have. I don’t believe in giving you kids that kind of choice until you’re old enough to understand exactly what the fuck you’re going to be dealing with.”
“I know what I’m dealing with.”
“Bullshit,” he rasped. “I know you, Adam. I know you’ve never wanted college. I know the only reason you were going is because of the trust fund I set up for you. You’re a liar if you can’t tell me that, now, knowing this, you’ve changed your mind.”
My brows rose at that. Adam had never mentioned a trust fund to me. He’d only ever said that the only way he could get through college was if he earned himself a scholarship.
“You have to go to college,” Robert ground out.
“I don’t have to do shit anymore,” Adam retorted.
My brow puckered.
“What are you going to do? Waste it on parties?”
“You really don’t know me, do you?” he snapped. “I’m not Cain.”
Robert released a hissed out breath. “I know you’re not.”
“No, you don’t, not if you can accuse me of that.”
I peered through the door when I heard a heavy sigh, and saw Robert running a hand over his face. “Talk to me, son.”
“What’s there to say?”
“Plenty. You found out something that has changed your life. That’s a lot of money.”
“I didn’t get into Stanford.”
That revelation hit me and hurt me harder than it did Robert. “That’s a shame. I know you wanted to attend, but there are other options.”
“I got into Yale—”
“You did? That’s brilliant news!”
“No. It isn’t. I don’t want to go.”
Robert visibly cringed at his son’s words, and I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t sure where Adam’s head was at right now, so I knew his father had to be completely in the dark.
Though Robert and Adam were closer than Adam was to his mom, Robert had only changed this past eighteen months since Cain had been sent to prison.
That wasn’t a long time to make up for pretty much neglecting his son all his life.
Even though I got the feeling Robert was trying, I also knew it would never be enough. Not for Adam, at any rate.
“I want to do what I’ve always wanted.”
Robert sucked in a breath before slowly releasing it. “What’s that?”
“Flipping houses.”
My eyes widened, and Robert’s brows flatlined. “You want to flip houses? Since when?”
“Since always,” Adam rasped, and I heard the shrug in his voice. “I just never thought I’d be able to do it.”
“Flipping houses isn’t exactly something you can do with no experience,” he pointed out.
Adam’s flippant, “Can’t you? Don’t you learn as you go?” pissed his father off.
“You’re not a contractor, Adam,” Robert snarled. “You’re my son. You’re supposed to be taking over my position in the company.”
“Your company is real estate, Dad. I don’t see the difference. I’ve decided. I don’t want to go to college.”
“You got an offer for Yale, and you’re going to turn it down?” Robert spat. “Over my dead body!” he tacked on, before Adam could say another word.
“Thanks to Grandfather, I don’t care what you say, and considering you dumped this bitch of a wife on me, I don’t think I have to worry about your opinions anymore, seeing as you made me a man before I was ready—”
“Goddammit, son, you know why we had to do that.”
“To save Cain. Always to save Cain. Well, I saved his ass from being fucked. I saved him when he hurt the girl I loved—”
“Thea?” Robert breathed, sounding astonished, and I couldn’t blame him.
In all the days I’d spent with him, all the meals I’d eaten with him, and all the nights I’d slept under his roof, not once had I mentioned I had feelings for his son.
“I went against her, I married another woman to save that SOB of a brother, and for what? For him to call me now that he’s in jail, can’t graduate, and to finagle money from me? No thanks, no word of gratitude for raising his son? No. I’ve done my time. I’ve served the family, well, no more. I can do what I want to do—”
“You’ll change your mind. You’re too young to—”
“Too young?” Adam snapped back. “You can dare say that to me when, out of nowhere, I’m a husband and a father when I didn’t do a fucking thing wrong?”
Robert released a breath from between his teeth. “Adam.”
Just his name.
I wasn’t sure if he was saying sorry, or if he was asking for forgiveness.
Either way, I didn’t think he got it.
“I’ve made my mind up. Once I graduate, that’s it for me. I want to make my own path.” And with that, he cut the call.
For a second, I could only stare at Robert’s downturned head as he stared at his feet, his elbows on his knees, his body hunched over.
Was it horrible that I hoped he hurt?
Adam had been right.
He’d been sacrificed for his scumsucking brother. The honorable son had paid for the bastard’s misdeeds, and was now a boy’s father, had a wife on his arm who he hated...
If anyone had the right to make their own decisions about their future, it was Adam.
Before he saw me, I stepped away from the door and trudged past his office and back onto the landing where my bedroom was.
It was only dumb luck, or bad luck, that had me overhearing that conversation, but now that I had?
I couldn’t get it out of my mind.
My first instinct was to call him, but he hadn’t said anything about this during training.
If anything, he’d dived into the water and we’d raced, pushing each other past our limits until we were both shattered, exhausted as we flopped onto the side of the pool and got our breaths back.
That was as much as we hung out nowadays, and it was more than before, so I was happy, even though I craved more.
Once we left training, that was it. I went my way, he went his.
He ruled Rosemore’s halls, I just tried to hide in the corners to get through the days until I was free and out of that damn place where I’d never fit in. Where, even though Cain had wronged me, somehow, I was the villain.
I gnawed on my bottom lip, my hand tight around my cell phone, but as I stepped into my bedroom, I didn’t bother calling him or even texting him.
He’d have to talk to me about this. I couldn’t bring it up, not when I’d eavesdropped into a private conversation.
I stared at the notice board above my desk, which was pinned down with schedules and meets and ribbons and cutouts of me on podiums. I saw the letter from Stanford.
And suddenly, it felt farther than just across the country, but across the universe.
Like I was going to be moving, within the next couple of months, to another planet.
Even though I hadn’t truly spoken to Adam in the years since his marriage, he’d been there.
And when he’d told me he was trying to attend Stanford, and I hadn’t been certain if I could deal with that, suddenly, I knew.
Now, I could see him.
I could have talked to him if I’d wanted to. I’d had the choice.
When I left, I was going to be removing myself from his sphere, and by the sounds of it, he was removing himself from every sphere.
I tried to imagine Adam fixing up a house then flipping it, and because he was that way, I could see him doing it. Whatever he put his mind to, he achieved.
I knew swimming was a chore for him. I knew it, but you’d never tell when he was in the water. He trained harder than anyone on the team except for me, and until now, he’d dedicated hours to his sport, pushing himself because he’d thought that was the only way he’d get into college, had believed that was the only way he’d be able to make a future for himself.
Now, he had other options, and he was going to take them.
A little shaken, I plucked off the letter from Stanford and another from Southwall Correctional Facility.
Two invitations, two completely different paths I was going to be taken down.
There was no doubt in my mind that I’d be visiting both, but after, I’d reach a crossroads, one that might take me away from Adam, even more than I already was.
With a sigh, I sunk onto my bed and stared at both letters.
Today had been a reckoning, and tomorrow?
It felt like it was going to be one too.
THEA
The creaking of the bars, the clanging of the gates, the heavy clicks of the locks, the buzzers, and the footsteps of the guards...all of it was a cacophony of sound that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope with if I was my mom.
I remembered enough about her to recall that she loved wide, open spaces. She’d loved horses and being out in the fields. She’d loved being with animals, and felt cramped and crowded in our small caravan.
Weird things to remember from when I was so young, especially when I couldn’t recall being hit by my father, but I remembered Momma vividly.
She’d been everything I wasn’t.
Vinnie had called my grandmother Leggy, and that was my mom too. All curves and long chestnut curls that cascaded down her back. I’d seen pictures of her, only a few because Nanny hadn’t set that many out. But I knew enough to know I had her features—delicate lips, a fragile-looking nose, high cheekbones, and the same matching eyes. But otherwise, I was skin and bone, and she’d been voluptuous curves and sensuality.
Sure, it was unusual to think that about your mom, but hell, I had eyes.
I was bony and muscular. All harsh lines and strength. I’d never look like my mom. My body was trained to be this way now. Muscle memory would keep me slim long after I stopped the punishing workouts, and only dwindled it down until I was working out at a healthy, normal level.
I thought about how I expected her to look, but ever since I’d received the letter from the prison, inviting me to visit her, I’d never been able to picture her.
I’d been surprised. Had never anticipated that Mom would ask me to come along. I’d have been happy with being pen pals, but I’d never heard back from her, even though I’d sent a few letters since I’d gone to Fort Worth, and the invitation to visit was the only clue I had that she’d received my mail.
When I and a bunch of others followed a guard through a doorway that overlooked a small room, filled with concrete tables that were screwed down, and occupied by a single woman on each, I didn’t know which was my mother.
And that stung.
The morning had been long. It had taken me four buses to get here, and I’d set off at four AM so as not to miss the small time frame I had to get inside the prison.
Then, I’d had to wait outside, and there’d been a kind of siren that went off for a few minutes which had made me wonder if things would be called off, then a door had opened, and people who were more accustomed to visiting than me had climbed out of their cars, trudged over to the door, and lined up.
I followed.
I’d been patted down, checked over, sneered at, ignored by a few guards, and all to reach this moment.
A moment I’d never anticipated because how could you anticipate visiting your mother when you believed she was dead?
I hung back, purposely letting the other women, men, and kids reach their tables and their friend or family member, all while I went to the vending machine and grabbed some snacks.
I’d been reading up on the way prisons worked, and this food was sometimes the only treats prisoners got, so I’d brought enough change with me to make me worry someone would mug me every time I switched buses because I jangled so damn hard I sounded like I was a piggy bank, and I got to work.
I pretty much picked one of everything in the twenty-five item strong vending machine, and my arms were full as I headed over to the one table in the room where a guest wasn’t sitting.
She was still beautiful.
That was my first thought.
Her hair was long, but it was streaked with gray now, even though she was only thirty-four, and she wore it in a tight bun that pulled at her face. Her eyes were tired, and there was a bitter twist to her lips as she saw me looking at her.
She was, also, as thin as me. That came as a surprise. She looked sick, and I wasn’t sure if I could deal with that, not when Vinnie was sick too.
Hell, I’d only spoken to her yesterday, and we’d had to end the call because she couldn’t stop coughing.
But I had to take comfort in the fact that I couldn’t see her aura. Surely if she was sick, I’d have sensed it? I had to hope that was the case.
I dumped all the treats on the table, thinking I was glad I’d brought the change because she looked like she needed a good meal, and then I muttered, “Momma?”
She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth at that, and I saw her bite down for a second, just as she dipped her chin and burrowed it in her chest. A ragged sigh escaped her, and I watched as she tightened her hands, clawing them slightly, even as she tried to get control of herself.
That she was affected was clear, and I was starting to think I really was a horrible person, because I was glad.
Glad because she felt something for me.
Glad because she cared. Hell, that much was clear from the way she responded to my greeting.
So few people gave a shit about me that it was a relief to know there was someone here who cared if I lived or breathed.
I let her process, let her deal with my presence, and for a while, I was really happy just to look at her.
Just to sit and watch her mannerisms, to take in her appearance.
Then, she surprised me.
Her eyes no longer remained on the table, she moved to look at me, and she murmured, “You look like Nicodemus.”
Even though that shouldn’t hurt, that those were her first words to me stung.
Badly.
I flinched, and jerked back like she slapped me, but she shook her head at the sight, even as she reached up and tugged at her bottom lip again. “Nicodemus was the most beautiful man you could ever imagine.”
So there was a compliment in there?
If I was a boy.
Great.
“I loved him, you know,” she rasped. “He loved me.”
I had no idea what to say to that.
No idea whatsoever.
For a second, I felt like a goldfish, incapable of doing anything other than gaping at her, mouth opening and closing.
Whatever I’d expected her to say, whatever I’d expected her to do, this visit hadn’t started out as planned.
I mean, I knew she wouldn’t be able to hug me. While that sucked, I got it. But, from the way she was sitting there, I got the feeling she wouldn’t have hugged me anyway.
There was a distance I hadn’t expected.
Ever since I’d learned she was alive, I’d done everything in my power to find her, then to write to her with the vain hope I’d get to see her.
Today was the culmination of nearly six months of impatience.
Today was, also, not going how I’d predicted.
“What are your gifts?” She finally looked at me again, and I realized she kept dar
ting glances away. I twisted around, not seeing anything in particular that could hold her interest, and it took me a good few minutes to figure out she couldn’t look at me.
Great.
Because I looked like Nicodemus.
Who she’d just said she loved, and who loved her, and who she’d murdered.
While defending me.
What the fuck was going on here?
I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Auras, I guess. Healing. Although not so much healing.”
She narrowed her eyes at me at that, and I finally gained one hundred percent of her focus. It was weird. It reminded me of my nanny, but there was a sharpness to it I’d never seen from ‘Leggy.’
“You got my mother’s talents,” she whispered, and her gaze turned inward. “That’s unusual.”
“It is? Why?”
“Because gifts tend to avoid generations.”
I blinked—was that supposed to mean something?
Her brow puckered at my confusion, then she mumbled, “Where is Momma anyway?”
My mouth worked. “S-She died.”
Was I really having this conversation?
Genevieve’s nostrils flared at my words, but then she released a sigh. “Should have known when her letters stopped. Just thought she was ashamed of me. Being in here.” Then, after she released a sharp breath, she whispered, “Who looked after you? Nicodemus’s family?”
“No. I was put into state care. I-I just assumed he had no family, and that was why I was put into the foster system.”
Her jaw popped as she rocked it to one side then the other, making me wince at the noise. “Got into a fight,” she explained, seeing my flinch. “It dislocated. Ain’t never been the same since.”
“I-I’m sorry—” What did I call her? Momma? Mother? Mom?
“Don’t be.” Her nails tapped on the table, the dull sound resonating thanks to the concrete surface. “So, you know little of our heritage, not if you went into the system when I stopped getting letters from Momma.”
“I just know what she taught me.”
“And I’ll hazard a guess and say that wasn’t much.” Her lips twitched.
“She taught me about cleanliness,” I argued, a little pissed on Nanny’s behalf. “She taught me some of our ways.”
Above The Surface Page 24
