by W. J. May
“Mad about each other?” he asked as casually as he could. Rae’s heart went out to him, but the adults weren’t fooled. “If you don’t mind me asking, when did you even see them together? I was under the impression that—”
“It’s best to leave the past in the past,” Tristan interrupted quietly. The room stiffened, and he flashed his son a tight smile. “Trust me. No point in rehashing old details.”
The four children fell silent, staring down at the useless tea cups in their hands. Never once would they have imagined that they would be trapped in the middle of such a surreal reunion. And never in a million years would they want to push things the wrong way.
But while everyone else took their cue and let the conversation lapse, Simon was unwilling to do so. Instead, he stared at Tristan appraisingly before speaking out again. “I only saw them together once.” He turned deliberately away from Tristan to offer a smile to Devon. “You were just learning to walk. Tristan was cooking breakfast—”
“Really?” Tristan leaned dangerously forward in his chair, tensing like a lion that had just spotted its next kill. “You’re really going to sit there and tell stories?”
Rae stiffened along with the rest of them, but Simon seemed completely unsurprised.
“Someone has to tell them what happened,” he countered quietly. “When I met him, he had no idea who I was—besides the infamous Simon Kerrigan.”
Tristan’s eyes flashed. “Maybe that’s because you are the infamous Simon Kerrigan.”
Simon ignored this, focused on what he deemed the bigger issue. “I think we both know there’s a bit more to it than that.” His hands twitched nervously, but he casually lowered them to his lap. “What about the years when—”
“What would you have me say, Simon?” Tristan leaned forward in his chair, looking as dangerous as Rae had ever seen him. “That you saw me cooking breakfast the day after I broke you out of prison? That every sickening thing you did from that day on is essentially my fault?”
Devon set down his glass, pale as a sheet. Beside him Julian reached out a discreet, steadying hand. Although he, too, was staring at the argument like a train wreck in progress.
Simon caught his breath, taking a moment to steady himself, before pressing forward. “All I’m saying is—”
Tristan set down his cup as well, assumedly before he cracked it in a rage. His voice was soft and quiet as could be, but that did nothing to hide the black fury beneath every word. “Enough. I will not…I will not do this with you.” His eyes swept pointedly over the children before returning with a chilling glare. “Not here. Not again.”
For the first time in her entire life, Rae saw her father back down. He opened his mouth to reply, but took one look at Tristan’s face and slowly closed it again. The two men locked eyes for the briefest of moments before he nodded once and lowered his gaze to the floor.
At this point Rae was at a total loss. Sitting beside her, Devon was in a similar state of shock. Even the little dog in his arms had the good sense to stay still and quiet.
Fortunately, Julian swept in for the rescue. “So Mr. Wardell, what do you think of the house?”
Julian had always had an innately calming way about him. A pacifying calm that the gang had relied upon to get them out of more than a few dicey situations.
Unfortunately, he seemed to have chosen exactly the wrong thing to say.
Tristan flinched, almost imperceptibly, as Simon leaned forward with a quiet chuckle.
“What about it, Tris?” he asked softly. “Do you like the house?”
A strange emotion swept through Rae, an unexpected protective urge to jump in between the two men. Maybe it was the fact that, while Simon had forced a hard life, she had never seen Tristan look more sad. She didn’t know if it was possible for anyone to look sadder.
Devon saw it, too, and flashed Simon a warning glance before turning to his father. “Dad…what’s he talking about?”
But Tristan couldn’t speak. It looked as though he didn’t even try. He simply lifted his eyes to the window and blankly stared outside—wishing that he was anywhere else in the entire world than sitting there in that living room.
“This was our house,” Simon interjected quietly. The children turned to him in shock, though he kept his eyes locked on Tristan, carefully measuring his response to every word that was said. “We moved in when we were first partnered up by the Privy Council. Lived together for the next few years.”
It was impossible to imagine, looking at them now. Impossible to imagine that there was ever a time when the two of them could be in the same room without one wanting to kill the other.
A strange, nostalgic smile pulled at the corners of Simon’s lips. “Almost burned it down the first night.”
Despite the mess of other emotions flying around, that still managed to grab their attention.
“You almost burned it down?” Angel asked inquisitively. It was one of the only times she had spoken to Simon directly—other than threatening to end his life—but the tension in the room had reached a breaking point, and she wanted to know. “How?”
Simon stared at her for a moment before glancing towards the kitchen. “We tried to cook dinner. Thought that we should christen the house with a home-cooked meal. Unfortunately, there were some beers left in the basement by the previous tenants. In our excitement, we proceeded to drink them all and then forget about the pasta burning on the stove.” His eyes twinkled with the ghost of a smile. “It was a tradition we decided to pass on. A few days later, we went out and bought some beer to leave for the next tenants. Whoever that might be…”
The room grew painfully silent as Julian and Devon exchanged a quick look. They used the gym in the basement all the time. Whatever Simon and Tristan had left, they’d obviously found it.
This time Angel turned her curious eyes to Julian. “That’s a hell of a coincidence,” she said plainly. “Did the Privy Council used to rent this place out, or—”
“You’re unbelievable,” Tristan interrupted softly. The rest of the conversation in the room came to a complete standstill as Simon turned to him, wary. “You’re only back a few weeks…and the first thing you do is tell Devon we were friends at Guilder.”
This time it was Simon’s turn to get mad. A flash of anger whipped across his face, and his hands tightened compulsively on the armrests of his chair. “Why?” He forced a tight smile. “Were you going to deny that we knew each other?”
The venom in his voice was enough to render the room shaken and quiet, but Tristan merely looked him up and down in a practiced sort of way. He was neither surprised nor troubled by the sudden outburst. He had seen it many times before.
“We didn’t know each other, Simon.” His voice was eerily calm, as if he was recounting a terrible dream—one he had never really woken up from. “I didn’t know you at all. I knew what you wanted me to know. I knew who I wanted you to be. But I never knew you. Not really.”
Simon sucked in a quick breath. His eyes tightened and his back stiffened defensively, but for one of the first times it was easy to see through the posturing to what lay below. To the feeling of profound hurt tearing him up just beneath the surface.
“You really think that?” he asked quietly. A feeling of dread colored the words, but when he forced his eyes back up to Tristan he was given no reprieve.
“How could I think anything differently?”
Simon’s face tightened before he dropped his gaze and nodded swiftly. “Then it’s like you said...” he replied through clenched teeth, “at this point, it’s probably best that we leave the past behind us.”
The room fell into silence once more. One that rang out with resounding finality as something passing between the men flickered and died.
Or at least…it should have.
“But how can we?” Simon’s eyes shot back to Tristan; the rest of the room turned with a feeling of dread. “When you’ve brought the past right back to our doorstep?”
; Chapter 10
For the first time in probably over half a decade, Devon slept under the same roof as his father. It hadn’t been presented to them as a choice. Tristan had given them no option. If Simon Kerrigan was staying the night at his son’s house, then he would be staying the night as well.
“I guess he placed a lot of faith in Beth protecting us,” Rae said. Devon looked up curiously as Rae pulled on her pajamas and climbed into bed. “You and Simon have been in close quarters for the last few weeks. Your dad’s never minded until now.”
Devon peeled off his shirt as a belated shudder ran through his shoulders. Like Rae, he was haunted by the look on his father’s face. It had been surreal. How viscerally protective he was of a son he’d never had much time for. How his every instinct was to shield and protect, when over the years it had been he who’d done the most damage.
He’d seated himself strategically between Devon and Simon at dinner. Shut down any conversation before it could begin. At one point, he even intercepted a passing bottle of wine to prevent Simon from getting anywhere near his son’s skin.
On each occasion, Devon had shut down. Freezing in place until the hands crossed in front of him. Shooting a sideways glance at his father once conversation had resumed.
“Yeah…I guess.” He avoided Rae’s eyes as he climbed into bed beside her, slipping beneath the covers. “It’s just strange, you know? For the first time in longer than I can remember, he’s acting like…a dad. And he doesn’t even know we’re getting married.”
Rae’s chest tightened as she reached out to take his hand. In the blur of chaotic happiness since announcing the engagement, it was easy to compartmentalize the huge problems that were still staring them in the face. “Not sure how any of the school staff would agree to it.” She cleared her throat. “Not that it matters right now. I don’t care. You don’t care. That’s what matters.” She pressed her teeth down on her lower lip.
Samantha was still out there somewhere, biding her time.
Simon Kerrigan was back from the dead, burrowing further into their lives by the minute.
And Devon’s father still didn’t know the two of them were getting married.
“Are you going to tell him?” she murmured, stroking the back of his hand. “Before he leaves in the morning?”
Devon hung his head, sighing. “I don’t know. I guess I should. I just…don’t even know where to start.” He looked up with sudden passion, locking onto Rae’s eyes. “He was against us for so long. Did everything he could to keep the two of us apart. And now, what? I’m supposed to invite him to the wedding?” A strangely petulant look shadowed across his face as he folded his arms.
Rae wanted to fix this, but she didn’t know how.
“I mean…we haven’t even talked in almost a year. The only time he tried to reach out was when we were all brainwashed by Samantha, and the only reason he’s here now is because he remembers how that feels.”
There was a hard bitterness to his voice. One that Rae didn’t hear often.
“Well, I know that’s terrible,” she began carefully, “but is the end result really such a bad thing?” He looked down sharply, and she hastened to explain. “I’m only saying he realized what it felt like to have a relationship with you, and he doesn’t want to give that up.”
“And that should be good enough for me?” he asked quietly. “The man threw me out of Guilder, tried to disown me, alienated me from my mom. Now that he finally comes back, I’m just supposed to welcome him with open arms?”
“He wants to be in your life. That means something.”
“He doesn’t want your dad to murder me,” he countered. “There’s a big difference.”
Rae dropped her eyes to the blanket. “You have a father who loves you, Devon. That’s a lot more than some people can say.”
His eyes flickered down thoughtfully before the two of them leaned back against the headboard. “Yeah…I guess.”
The two of them were quiet for a long time. Each one replaying the events of the day in their mind. Each one lost in thought. The hands on the clock wound slowly around the hour, and they might have stayed like that all night if little Annie hadn’t gotten her way.
With a cheerful yip she leapt onto the bed between them, thrashing her tail back and forth, and licking anyone who dared to get in her way. Rae scooted gleefully aside to make room, and Devon’s frown melted into an automatic smile as he opened his arms and the puppy crawled inside.
“You certainly earned your keep today,” he said affectionately, scooping her up so he could kiss her rounded belly. “Our little diplomat…”
It had only taken a single afternoon for the two of them to fall desperately in love, and he was right—of all the days for Rae to have brought home a puppy, this was the best one.
Throughout the course of the afternoon, she had provided a natural buffer as well as a vital distraction from the clashing personalities in the house. It helped that she seemed to think Tristan and Simon, and everyone else for that matter, had come to London simply to entertain her.
She bounded from one to the next. Expecting love. Demanding play. Giving whatever she got back again tenfold. Things had only gotten awkward in the evening after she’d wound herself up so much that she passed out cold right in the middle of the floor.
As it stood, she was the only thing that could bring a smile to Devon’s face.
“Rae, seriously, everything else aside…this?” He held her up with one hand, and put the other one over his heart. “There are no words.”
A wide grin stretched across Rae’s face as he slid down onto his back, and the boy and his dog started to play all over again. Biting and batting, kissing and cuddling, laughing and playfully growling as they shook the blankets between their teeth.
Truth be told, the little puppy was at a distinct disadvantage. She might be the only dog in the world who was supernaturally outmatched by her owner.
But Annie didn’t seem to mind. When Devon was too fast for her, she simply rolled over onto her back and yowled. When he was too strong, she giddily chewed on his hand.
Rae watched them going at it with a secret little smile, taking in every single detail as the dog unlocked a kind of levity in him she had never seen. The kind that made her suddenly wonder how he might look playing with a child.
WOW! Where the freakin’ heck did THAT come from?!
“Do you think she could sleep up here with us?” Rae jumped as Devon interrupted her guilty musings. A little dimple appeared at the corner of his lips as both he and Annie stared up at her with huge, begging eyes. “Just for one night. I promise.”
Rae caught her breath then shook her head with a grin, taking mental pictures of the adorable scene. “One night. Right.”
This was a pattern starting here. And they both knew it. So did Annie.
Devon and the dog shared a look of triumph before he flipped off the light and the three of them scooted under the covers. It was a good way to end a bad night. And Rae had to admit she was as glad for the momentary diversion as the rest of them.
Neither she nor Devon had spoken much after sitting through the most awkward dinner on the planet. It was a testament to how bizarre things had become that Angel was the most normal one at the table. Conversations were short and strained. Details were kept to a bare minimum.
But, oddly enough, it wasn’t the tension that had Rae so on edge. It wasn’t the awkward strain that had her heart pounding in her chest, even as she lay there in bed.
It was that, when she looked at Tristan and Simon, she was struck with the overwhelming feeling that she and her friends were just like them.
The raw sting of the emotions was nothing more than a measure of the depth of their original bond. No two people could have hurt each other so much without caring as deeply as they cut. It was as if Molly and Rae had said things that they could never take back. As if Devon and Julian had broken irrevocably apart, never to see each other again.
“You kn
ow,” she murmured, gazing up into the dark, “I’m not saying it’s right, but I kind of see where your dad is coming from.”
There was a shifting on the bed as Devon rolled over to look at her. Even in the dark she could see his bright eyes piercing through the shadows, zeroing in on her face. “You can’t mean that.”
“I’m not saying it was right,” she said again, carefully emphasizing every word. “But what if it was Jules? You would never get over it.”
There was a slight pause before Devon mounted a half-hearted defense. “That’s not the same thing.”
It was exactly the same thing. And they both knew it.
“What if it was Jules,” she repeated softly, “and you left him on his own? Left him teetering on the edge of a cliff. For me? For our family? What if you were forced to leave him to the darkest parts of himself, and then he went on to do unimaginable things?” She shook her head, still gazing up at the shadows on the ceiling. “It would change things, Dev. It would change you.”
There was a charged pause.
“You’re defending him.”
“I’m explaining him.”
They lapsed into silence once more. The kind of silence where Rae wished she could see his face, just to know if she’d pushed too hard. Crossed too far over the line.
But a second later he shifted Annie aside, and pulled Rae into his arms. She nestled into her usual spot, in the hollow of his shoulder, and finally allowed herself to close her eyes.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get to sleep…
* * *
The shouting started at about three o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t even shouting so much as a vicious, hissed argument. If Rae hadn’t already been awake, she would have never heard it.
Quiet as a mouse, she tiptoed down the stairs.
It was as if she was six years old again. Six years old, and sneaking to the end of the hall to watch as her parents started fighting. She was always afraid to see, but was more afraid not to. Even at such a young age she felt as though, if she wasn’t there, things might get even worse. If she wasn’t standing secret guard, who knew what might happen.
