by Chloe Cox
One good thing: the weather meant he didn’t have to deal with anyone recognizing him. Last time he’d been back here he’d had to keep his head down.
The trouble was that Soren wasn’t totally sure what compelled him to come back. He doubted his mother would be happy to see him, so what the hell was the point? To make sure the bastard was really dead? For some kind of ‘closure?’ But ‘closure’ was a lie, and he knew that already. And expecting anything different out of his mother after all these years was the definition of insanity.
Had he come for Sonya?
Maybe. Soren might have liked to think he was still that hopeful kind of guy, willing to dole out forgiveness and all that crap, but he figured it was probably more selfish than that. As much as it troubled him not to know exactly what was going on his own head—disturbing for a Dom—he knew it had something to do with Julia.
No one knew Julia quite like Sonya had. The two of them had been best friends in high school, and when Sonya started going to college, Julia started going to Soren’s shows, and the rest…well… Did he think he could get some answers? There were never going to be answers. Julia had broken his heart and then she’d overdosed on freaking heroin. She’d been his first sub; she’d introduced him to BDSM. Soren had thought he was going to be with her for the rest of his life.
And then in the space of a week she’d broken his heart and died, and he learned he’d never known her at all. And what it had felt like—still felt like—was he hadn’t loved her well enough. And he hadn’t loved anyone since.
And now it was on the fucking news. Or about to be.
Cate was doing all she could, but hell, even Soren knew what it looked like. It looked bad. It looked predatory, monster-level bad.
And sweet Jesus, there was Cate.
How sick was it that he was almost grateful to his son-of-a-bitch stepfather for dying and distracting him from how he felt about Cate? About Cate running away from him, curling up into herself? It destroyed him, thinking about Cate hurting.
And every time he thought about Julia, he thought about Cate. No one else had ever…
Damn. That was a loaded thought right there. He had to be careful. So damn careful. He’d tried to love women for ten years after Julia, and he’d never gotten close. Never felt that thing inside him switch on, never felt his heart pump with it, never had it make him feel like he was in love with the whole world just because of it. But Cate…everything with Cate had happened out of order. He never felt the switch flip on because it had been on the whole time, that constant flow between them, that dizzying energy that just…distorted everything.
He saw into Cate. He saw when she hurt, he knew her, he appreciated the hell out of her mind. He could never, ever forgive himself if he led her on and broke her heart because he forgot what he was.
And he didn’t know what that meant. Especially because he could barely stop thinking about her long enough to remember he was here for a frigging funeral.
“Jesus,” he said to himself, and looked up to see his mother’s house looming over him.
He hated that house. That’s where he’d been the whipping boy. On the other hand, the basement was where he and Declan used to pretend to be rock stars back when Declan lived with them for a little while, before Soren’s stepfather got really bad. So: not all bad memories.
Soren gritted his teeth and knocked on the door.
Everything he thought he knew went out the window when his mother opened the door.
When Soren had left she was just an angry woman, drunk on white wine and woozy on pills, with a mean streak a mile wide. The last time he’d seen her had only been about five years ago, when he’d tried, for the last time, to have a nice family reconciliation. She’d told him not to come back, since it upset her husband Ted so much, and he hadn’t seen a problem with honoring that.
Now? Holy crap, his mother looked frail. Seeing her like that was like a kick to the gut.
She was still mean, though. And woozy.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said, squinting up at him.
“Almost didn’t,” Soren answered honestly.
His mother waved a dismissive hand. “Wouldn’t have made much difference to your stepfather.”
Soren sighed, and it turned into a laugh. She hadn’t even invited him in yet, and it had started. “Jesus, Mom,” he said, shaking his head.
“Well, I just wish you would have made more of an effort to get along with him, that’s all,” his mother said.
Soren took a deep breath. The man had made a game out of throwing lit cigarette butts at him when he was twelve. He’d been the one to break Soren’s nose. He’d run over Soren’s dog on fucking purpose while Soren was in the car, and then he’d gone inside and been sweet as pie to Sonya and their mother. It wasn’t really an issue of ‘getting along’ with him.
But then Soren looked up and took another look at his mother. She didn’t look like she was taking any joy in those barbed comments; she looked like she was barely standing up.
Ten years of being a Dom had taught Soren some things about observation. His mother wasn’t just barely standing up—she was barely holding on. She was lonely and terrified, the reality of her life encroaching on her alcoholic haze for the first time in years. And she was dealing with it the easiest way she knew how—by taking it out on her son.
Well, he was a fully grown man. He could take it now.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mom,” he said. And he meant it.
Maureen Andersson blinked up at her son for several seconds. Finally, she stepped back from the door.
“Well, thank you for coming,” she said.
It wasn’t long after that that Soren got the surprise of his life.
The wake wasn’t well attended, but Soren only knew his mother and Sonya. It reminded him how much he hadn’t been invited into his stepfather’s life. Sonya walked around shaking hands, thanking people. Soren stood there like a giant alien from another planet. It would have been funny if it weren’t for the circumstances.
What blew Soren’s mind, though, were Sonya’s kids. She had kids. He’d known that, obviously, but he’d never met them before. Twins, four years old, a boy and a girl. They were the spitting images of Sonya and himself when they were younger, and he couldn’t freaking believe it.
He kept staring at them. Somehow, those kids made him miss his own sister. He hadn’t thought anything in the world would have the power to do that, but the four-year-old terrors currently trying to steal the food off of people’s plates from beneath their chairs? Yeah. Powerful little rugrats.
“Tyler looks like you,” Sonya said, bringing him a plate of crackers.
“Madison looks like you,” he said. “They seem to get along, though.”
Sonya smiled ruefully. Crap. He hadn’t even meant it like that.
“Where’s Doug?” Soren asked.
“Doug and I split,” Sonya said, looking down at the carpet. She always did like to trace patterns in the shag carpeting with her feet.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Soren finally said. His sister looked hurt. He wasn’t used to seeing that. “Are you guys all set? The kids are provided for and everything?”
“We’re fine,” Sonya said, frowning. “You don’t have to…that’s not why I said it. We’re actually thinking of moving back here. Spend more time with Mom.”
Soren frowned at the thought.
“She’s good with them,” Sonya said quietly. “She’s different with you than she is with us.”
Soren looked at his sister’s serious face and burst out laughing, loudly enough that he got some ‘this is a wake’ looks, and he tried to cover it with a cough. “You don’t say?” he said, still laughing into his hand.
Sonya actually smiled. “Maybe a little bit.”
Soren cracked his neck, the humor leaving him suddenly, the absurdity giving way to anger. Every once in a while, something could send him right back to that place he remembered from his childh
ood, that place where he knew he’d get the shit end of the stick for no reason. He mostly had it under control, but every so often he’d feel it crawl up his spine.
And his sister might have contributed to all that, but she was still his sister. She still knew him.
“Soren, there’s something I have to tell you,” she said. “When this is over. It’s important.”
Soren didn’t say anything.
“Please?”
“No promises,” he said. Then he sighed. “Let me cool off, Sonya.”
Which was why when the doorbell rang, Soren was more than happy to go answer it.
Standing huddled on his mother’s porch were Declan, Molly, Brian, and, behind them all, Cate.
Cate.
“Holy crap,” Soren said.
“You fucking idiot,” Declan said, shaking his head. He clapped Soren on the shoulder while he walked past him, leaving Molly room to give him a fierce hug.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Molly said. Then she punched him lightly in the stomach and followed Declan inside.
Soren was still staring at Cate.
Brian looked between the two of them then looked inside.
“Right,” Brian said. “I belong at the kids’ table anyway. Soren, you ever pull something this dumb again, and I’m posting that song you wrote when you were seventeen online.”
Cate stared back at him.
“Are you listening to me?” Brian asked. “The one where you rhyme ‘love’ with ‘dove.’”
That got Cate’s attention. “Oh my God, I need to see that song.”
“Yeah, it’s not like it was Prince writing it, either,” Brian grinned. “It’s earnest.”
“Get your ass inside,” Soren said, pulling Brian into the house while the bassist tried to hide his laughter.
And then Soren stepped outside to be with Cate.
She was shivering. He wanted to hold her, keep her warm, but he remembered what she’d said—she couldn’t do that. Soren was afraid to touch her, like she might scatter, might run if he did. Like it might hurt her. She looked fragile, and it made him hurt inside, but it didn’t change the most important thing.
He was so fucking happy to see her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“You might suck at love, but I at least have remedial ability at it,” she burst out.
Soren’s brain locked up.
The wide-eyed silence between them was thick. Then Cate refused to look at him, and felt immediately farther away to him, like she was retreating inside herself. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes on the floor.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said. Then she looked up fiercely. “I don’t want you to say anything, not right now, at a freaking wake. There are no strings here, I promise, no strings at all.”
Soren’s brain started moving again, enough for him to know, right then and there, that he was an ass.
“Cate,” he started.
“I’m serious,” she said. “Don’t say anything. I just…I couldn’t let you hide away after what you did for me. So suck it up, tough guy. I’m not leaving.”
And then she shivered again.
“You’re cold,” Soren said gruffly, and stepped forward to engulf her in his arms.
And she fit. She fit something in him, that cavern that had opened up deep inside when he’d thought about the risk of hurting her, the crook of his shoulder, the perfect way she let him know that she saw through his crap. Because she’d been right: he had hidden this this all away, like a wounded animal hiding until it healed. Just reflex, just instinct at this point, and she’d seen through it and tracked him down.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.
“I call bullshit again,” she said. And then, softer: “I don’t know what this is.”
Soren heard the vulnerability in her voice and he reacted. Didn’t think, didn’t analyze, just reacted. He leaned down and kissed her hard, kissed her well, kissed her thoroughly. Kissed her until he could feel her warm under him, until she opened up and pressed into him, until he knew he could coax a moan from her mouth.
“Me neither,” he said. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Things seemed to warm up after that.
Well, not entirely. It was still a wake. And Soren could feel his presence wearing on his mother—he was like a constant reminder that things hadn’t been perfect. He’d burned some time checking up on what Declan had done about Desi—that dog would go nuts without someone he knew, so it was good that they’d gotten their drummer Gage to do it—and he’d managed to almost navigate the minefield that was introducing his mother to Cate.
His mother had taken one look at Cate and said, “This one of your women?”
Soren had introduced her as his lawyer, wanting to protect her from his mother. He thought Cate knew why, though she’d winced a little bit.
He was sure he’d find out later.
He’d needed a breather.
Which was why Sonya found him outside in the old yard, watching Brian and Cate play with the twins in what had become a light dusting of snow.
“You cooled off?” Sonya asked.
“About as cool as I’m gonna get,” Soren allowed.
“So I should just jump right in?”
Soren laughed again. “Sonya, you’re killing me.”
“It’s about Julia.”
There was a beat.
“Yeah, I figured.”
He looked at his sister, and she looked nervous again.
“I never told you that I knew,” she said.
Soren was still looking at her. His sister refused to look back, which he understood. She was looking at her kids, clenching her fists, her knuckles red and raw.
This was hard for her.
“You knew what?” Soren said quietly.
“That she had a drug thing,” Sonya said. “She had problems, Soren.”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t, because she hid them because she was in love with you. She was clean when she was with you, as far as I know,” Sonya added. “But she just…she always ran away from anything too intense, you know? And you wouldn’t know this, but after you’ve been clean for a while is when you’re most likely to screw up and OD. You lose your tolerance.”
Soren stared.
“Jesus Christ, you were a junkie, too?”
“I was never a junkie,” Sonya said sharply. “I dabbled. I partied. Lots of us did when we hung out with bands. You were all straight-edge because of Mom, but I never inherited that gene, I guess, so I didn’t get hooked on anything.”
“Holy…”
Soren didn’t fully have words for this particular revelation. He tried to hold on to the thing that mattered: Julia, using. Not using with him.
“You know why she dumped you?” Sonya asked.
“No,” Soren said. “Never did.”
“You scared the crap out of her, because it was like it was this forever thing. She didn’t know how to deal with it, but you did, and she just… She wasn’t deeply damaged or anything, Soren, she was just young and stupid and unlucky.” Sonya blew into her hands and smiled as both of her kids tackled Cate. “She would have been back with you in, like, a week, I’m sure of it.”
Soren sat down heavily.
He had never felt so stupid in his entire life.
He had carried Julia’s death with him for so long…and even now, that feeling didn’t go away. Hell, it had never really made sense, had it? That feeling that he just hadn’t loved her well enough, that he’d failed her somehow. No, it was always dumb as rocks. It was just that now it was perfectly clear exactly how dumb it was.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he said hoarsely.
Sonya sat down beside him, their legs hanging off the deck.
“Same reason Mom still treats you like she does, I guess,” Sonya said. “You know she’s never going to apologize, right? She can’t wrap her head around it, Soren. I mean, I can
barely wrap my head around it, and I have forty, fifty years to try to make up for it. And I’m just your sister. Mom’s head would explode if she was ever actually honest with herself about the stuff she let happen to you.”
“And now you’re all reformed?” he said. “That doesn’t fly, Sonya.”
“I know. I just had some of my own, and that makes you reevaluate things.” Sonya paused. “You know why we were like that, don’t you?”
Soren was silent.
“We were afraid of him, Soren. Ok, I was afraid that if he ever stopped going after you, he might come after me. I think Mom was the same. It was just easier to blame you for everything. And now he’s dead, and he’s not hating anyone anymore, and…”
“Jesus Christ, Sonya,” he muttered.
He knew that. Intellectually he had figured that out years ago, even if it never felt true. That’s what made it complicated. That’s what made him send Sonya money when she needed it, or get Uncle Jim to check in on his mother every once in a while. But that didn’t make any of it better.
What a goddamn trip.
“You know what else?” Sonya said.
“Sonya, my head can’t take any more.” Soren put up a pleading hand. “It’s like you’ve put it in a paint mixer.”
“You know, that is not the first time I’ve heard that,” she said.
“That is not even a little bit surprising.”
“I was going to ask you for a cigarette.”
“Don’t smoke, ask Brian,” Soren said. “Brian!”
Brian’s head popped up from beneath a pile of yellow-headed kids. He almost looked glad to be summoned, although Tyler—or Madison?—got one last kick to his shin as he got up.
He limped over, his expression alternating between a smile and a grimace.
“Lovely children, Sonya,” he said.
“Thanks for wearing them out,” she said. “They should go to sleep fine. Can I bum one?”
