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My mom smiled. “Your name hasn’t come up.”
Yet. But now that Blackwell had been shot down on the uneasy-peace front, I had no doubt he’d start in about Kaci. Calvin Malone was desperate to place her with a Pride that supported his bid for control of the council. His own Pride, if he could possibly swing it. In fact, Ethan had died defending Kaci from an attempt to forcibly remove her from our east Texas ranch.
And Kaci knew that.
“What’s going on, then? Is this about Ethan?” Her chin quivered as she spoke, her gaze flitting from face to solemn face in search of answers, and my heart broke all over again.
Kaci had been closer to Ethan and Jace than to any of the other toms, and though she’d known him less than three months, she was taking my brother’s death every bit as hard as the rest of us. Maybe worse. At thirteen, Kaci had already been tragically overexposed to death and underexposed to counseling. And in addition to the grief and anger the rest of us suffered, she felt guilty because Ethan had died defending her.
“Come on, Kaci, let’s get you something to eat.” My mother tried to herd her away from the office, but the tabby shrugged out from under her hand.
“I’m not hungry. And I’m tired of being left out. You keep me cooped up on the ranch, but won’t tell me what’s going on in my own home? How is that fair?”
I sighed and glanced around the office, loath to miss the rest of the discussion. But now that Ethan was gone, no one else could deal with Kaci as well as I could except Jace, and I wasn’t going to ask him to leave. The impending war had as much to do with him as it did with me; Calvin Malone was his stepfather, and Ethan was his lifelong best friend.
“Come on, Kace, why don’t we go kick the crap out of some hay bales in the barn?”
She looked at me like I’d just gone over to the dark side, but nodded reluctantly.
Marc took my hand, then let his fingers trail through mine as I stepped past him toward the door. Then I stopped and deliberately brushed a kiss on his rough cheek on the way, inhaling deeply to take in as much of his scent as possible, lingering for Blackwell’s benefit, as well as my own. To reiterate for the old coot that I would choose my own relationships.
But on my way into the hall, my gaze caught on Jace’s, and the tense line of his jaw betrayed his carefully blank expression. As did the flicker of heat in his eyes. We’d agreed not to talk about what happened between us the day Ethan died. There was really no other way to keep peace in the household, and keep everyone’s energy and attention focused on avenging my brother. And I’d sworn to myself that Marc would be the first to know. That I would tell him myself. He deserved that much, as badly as I dreaded it.
And there had been no good time for that yet. Not even an acceptable time. Every time was a rotten time, in fact, and each time Jace looked at me like that—each time I felt myself respond to the connection I wanted to deny—my internal pressure dialed up another notch.
If I didn’t break the tension soon, I was going to explode. Or do something we’d all regret.
I forced myself to walk past Jace with nothing more than a polite, sad nod—exactly what I would have given any of my other fellow enforcers—and closed the door as I stepped into the hall.
My mother was already standing there with my leather jacket and Kaci’s down ski coat. Sometimes I forgot she could move just as fast as the rest of us, if she chose.
Sometimes I forgot she had a mouth on her, too. Guess that’s where I got mine…
“Thanks.” I took the jacket and shrugged into it. “Mom, that was…awesome.” There was just no other way to describe it.
Her lips formed a straight, grim line. “It was the truth.” She pulled Kaci’s long chestnut waves from beneath her collar and forced a smile. “Come in and warm up in half an hour, and I’ll have hot chocolate.”
On the way down the hall, Kaci shoved her bare hands into her jeans pockets and glanced up at me, her frown almost as stern as the one my father typically wore. And in that instant, I wanted nothing more than to see her smile. To see her look—just for a moment—like any other thirteen-year-old. Like a teenager who knew nothing of violent death, and soul-shredding guilt, and spirit-crushing fear.
“What was awesome?” she asked, shoving the front door open.
I grinned, my mood momentarily brightened by the memory of my mother’s bad-ass monologue. “My mom just handed Blackwell his shriveled old balls in front of everyone.”
Kaci’s eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. “Seriously?” I nodded, and for a second, I caught a glimpse of what a happy Kaci could look like. “Cool.”
We stepped onto the porch and I had actually gone two steps before I realized we weren’t alone. Mercedes Carreño—Manx—sat in the wrought-iron love seat with my brother Owen. They both looked up as we approached, but their easy smiles said we hadn’t interrupted anything. No conversation, anyway. They were simply sitting together, enjoying the winter silence. And somehow their easy comfort seemed more intimate than many kisses I’d seen.
“Hey,” Kaci said, oblivious as I raised a curious brow at my brother. “Where’s Des?”
Manx shrugged deeper into her wool coat. “He is sleeping.”
My eyebrow went even higher, and Owen flushed, sliding his cowboy hat back and forth on his head. Manx never left Des. Never. The baby slept in her bed, and she sat with him when he napped. And she wouldn’t even go to the bathroom until she’d found someone she trusted to watch him while she was gone.
Yet. But now that Blackwell had been shot down on the uneasy-peace front, I had no doubt he’d start in about Kaci. Calvin Malone was desperate to place her with a Pride that supported his bid for control of the council. His own Pride, if he could possibly swing it. In fact, Ethan had died defending Kaci from an attempt to forcibly remove her from our east Texas ranch.
And Kaci knew that.
“What’s going on, then? Is this about Ethan?” Her chin quivered as she spoke, her gaze flitting from face to solemn face in search of answers, and my heart broke all over again.
Kaci had been closer to Ethan and Jace than to any of the other toms, and though she’d known him less than three months, she was taking my brother’s death every bit as hard as the rest of us. Maybe worse. At thirteen, Kaci had already been tragically overexposed to death and underexposed to counseling. And in addition to the grief and anger the rest of us suffered, she felt guilty because Ethan had died defending her.
“Come on, Kaci, let’s get you something to eat.” My mother tried to herd her away from the office, but the tabby shrugged out from under her hand.
“I’m not hungry. And I’m tired of being left out. You keep me cooped up on the ranch, but won’t tell me what’s going on in my own home? How is that fair?”
I sighed and glanced around the office, loath to miss the rest of the discussion. But now that Ethan was gone, no one else could deal with Kaci as well as I could except Jace, and I wasn’t going to ask him to leave. The impending war had as much to do with him as it did with me; Calvin Malone was his stepfather, and Ethan was his lifelong best friend.
“Come on, Kace, why don’t we go kick the crap out of some hay bales in the barn?”
She looked at me like I’d just gone over to the dark side, but nodded reluctantly.
Marc took my hand, then let his fingers trail through mine as I stepped past him toward the door. Then I stopped and deliberately brushed a kiss on his rough cheek on the way, inhaling deeply to take in as much of his scent as possible, lingering for Blackwell’s benefit, as well as my own. To reiterate for the old coot that I would choose my own relationships.
But on my way into the hall, my gaze caught on Jace’s, and the tense line of his jaw betrayed his carefully blank expression. As did the flicker of heat in his eyes. We’d agreed not to talk about what happened between us the day Ethan died. There was really no other way to keep peace in the household, and keep everyone’s energy and attention focused on avenging my brother. And I’d sworn to myself that Marc would be the first to know. That I would tell him myself. He deserved that much, as badly as I dreaded it.
And there had been no good time for that yet. Not even an acceptable time. Every time was a rotten time, in fact, and each time Jace looked at me like that—each time I felt myself respond to the connection I wanted to deny—my internal pressure dialed up another notch.
If I didn’t break the tension soon, I was going to explode. Or do something we’d all regret.
I forced myself to walk past Jace with nothing more than a polite, sad nod—exactly what I would have given any of my other fellow enforcers—and closed the door as I stepped into the hall.
My mother was already standing there with my leather jacket and Kaci’s down ski coat. Sometimes I forgot she could move just as fast as the rest of us, if she chose.
Sometimes I forgot she had a mouth on her, too. Guess that’s where I got mine…
“Thanks.” I took the jacket and shrugged into it. “Mom, that was…awesome.” There was just no other way to describe it.
Her lips formed a straight, grim line. “It was the truth.” She pulled Kaci’s long chestnut waves from beneath her collar and forced a smile. “Come in and warm up in half an hour, and I’ll have hot chocolate.”
On the way down the hall, Kaci shoved her bare hands into her jeans pockets and glanced up at me, her frown almost as stern as the one my father typically wore. And in that instant, I wanted nothing more than to see her smile. To see her look—just for a moment—like any other thirteen-year-old. Like a teenager who knew nothing of violent death, and soul-shredding guilt, and spirit-crushing fear.
“What was awesome?” she asked, shoving the front door open.
I grinned, my mood momentarily brightened by the memory of my mother’s bad-ass monologue. “My mom just handed Blackwell his shriveled old balls in front of everyone.”
Kaci’s eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. “Seriously?” I nodded, and for a second, I caught a glimpse of what a happy Kaci could look like. “Cool.”
We stepped onto the porch and I had actually gone two steps before I realized we weren’t alone. Mercedes Carreño—Manx—sat in the wrought-iron love seat with my brother Owen. They both looked up as we approached, but their easy smiles said we hadn’t interrupted anything. No conversation, anyway. They were simply sitting together, enjoying the winter silence. And somehow their easy comfort seemed more intimate than many kisses I’d seen.
“Hey,” Kaci said, oblivious as I raised a curious brow at my brother. “Where’s Des?”
Manx shrugged deeper into her wool coat. “He is sleeping.”
My eyebrow went even higher, and Owen flushed, sliding his cowboy hat back and forth on his head. Manx never left Des. Never. The baby slept in her bed, and she sat with him when he napped. And she wouldn’t even go to the bathroom until she’d found someone she trusted to watch him while she was gone.
