It seemed kind of symbolic that Vishous was blocking the view of the presents under the tree, the Brother’s big body a physical manifestation of the reality that the gift of Bitty in their lives was being seriously road-blocked.
V continued after another swig from the bottle. “Who he says he is. Where he’s from. Who his parents were—Bitty’s grandparents—and the fact that they’re both dead. I also met with people at his household of employment—he’s worked there for decades, reliable, good employee, never a slacker. Lives alone on the estate, keeps to himself. Widely known in the community that his sister, Bitty’s mom, disappeared up North with a bad guy against the wishes of her family.” He glanced at Mary. “Nobody knew about Bitty’s existence until you posted what you did on Facebook, and it took time for word to filter to him because he’s not online at all.”
Rhage could feel the tension in Mary’s body increase with each sentence, sure as if she were being pounded on by fists. On his side, he wanted to roar, but who exactly was he going to yell at? V, the messenger? Bitty’s uncle?
Who had done nothing wrong except come forward when he learned his niece was out in the world alone as an orphan?
The Christmas tree?
Yeah, ’cuz all that tinsel was really going to give a shit.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
V sat forward and tapped his ash, his black-gloved hand a badass contrast to the delicate and lovely Hermès ashtray. “I asked Ruhn to come down to South Carolina and meet me late last night. He did. He took me personally to his house, even though his employer had already let me in. He was willing to introduce me to anybody and everyone. He’s well liked, if, again, a loner.”
“But is he ready to take care of her?” Mary blurted. “A child is …”
As she trailed off, she put her head in her hands. “Oh, what am I saying. Blood trumps everything.”
“I don’t know the answer to the fitness thing,” V said. “That’s way above my pay grade. So Marissa is—”
A knock on the library door made Rhage jump, but it was just Marissa coming in, the female walking over, hugging Mary, sitting with V, talking about some kind of plan for assessing something or another and deciding … whatever the fuck.
In Rhage’s mind, he retreated far, far away, his eyes shifting back over to the Christmas tree and lingering on the way the lights twinkled in the deep green branches, and how the shiny foil of some of the presents reflected the golden flicker of the fire.
“… Rhage?” Mary prompted.
He shook himself. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Are you okay with everything? That we go to the Audience House and meet him there?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Everybody stared at him.
“Do you have any questions?” Mary said gently.
Rhage refocused on the gifts. “Can I still give Bit what I got her for Christmas before she goes?”
One hour later, Mary and Rhage pulled into the Audience House’s driveway and eased on around to the back garages. As Mary tried to collect her thoughts, Rhage parked the GTO, turned off the powerful engine and the headlights … and then together they sat there, staring at the row of hedges that he had nosed the muscle car into.
I have no idea how to do this, Mary decided.
For the entire trip from the Brotherhood’s mountain to town, she had been searching for some emotional footing, some perspective, some … anything … to carry herself through looking Bitty’s rightful next of kin in the eye and not completely breaking down.
So far she had come up with nothing.
“Are you ready?” Rhage said.
There was the temptation to try to be strong for him because she knew he was hurting as much as she was. But honesty won out over a lie.
“No.” She looked across at him. “I’m not.”
“Me neither.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And that was the best and only foot forward there was, wasn’t it: The simple words they shared were a vow on both their parts to get through this together, a reaffirmation that just as they had been side by side going into the joy of having Bitty in their lives, they would likewise go through the pain of losing her side by side.
Together, they got out and shut the doors, and Mary lifted up the fleece she was wearing and retucked her turtleneck into her waistband. As if somehow having a smooth presentation would impact anything at all.
Hell, Ruhn didn’t have to like them or approve of them. The male wasn’t vetting them in any way.
No, he was just going to take their daughter away—
Mary stopped herself right there on that one.
As Rhage held open the back kitchen door, she walked in and reminded herself that Bitty only felt like their daughter. Legally, that was simply not the case. And in a classic head-wins-over-the-heart situation, reality wasn’t going to vote with emotion.
V had already dematerialized over and was waiting for them at the table Rhage had done such a number on. “Marissa’s in there with him right now.”
“Okay,” Mary said.
When Rhage faltered, she took his big hand. “We’re ready when he is.”
Vishous nodded and got to his feet. “I’ll come back when it’s time.”
Cue an awkward period of waiting … which Rhage spent prowling around from cupboard to cupboard, taking out bags of potato chips, boxes of cookies, loaves of bread, jars of pickles. He always ended up putting whatever it was back after an inspection, as if he wanted to nervous-eat, but his stomach wasn’t finding anything appealing.
Or even tolerable.
After God only knew how long, V put his head in through the flap door across the way. “They’re ready.”
Talk about the longest walk of her life. As she and Rhage went past the pantry, and out into the foyer, and then around the base of the stairs and down a little hall, it seemed to take forever—and Mary was good with that.
They were entering the new reality as soon as they saw that other male.
As they came up to the library doors, both sides were closed and V knocked once. When Marissa answered, the Brother opened things up … and Mary found herself blinking a lot and staring at the floor.
And then somehow, she was in the room.
As with the Brotherhood house, there was a fire crackling and first editions on the shelves … and nicely arranged furniture … even a plate of cookies and some tea sitting on a low coffee table. No Christmas tree, though. No hand-wrapped presents. No Bing Crosby playing.
And there he was.
Her first impression of Bitty’s uncle was that he was just as nervous as they were. His foot was tapping and his arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes bounced back and forth between her and Rhage.
Her second thought was that he was big. Much bigger than she would have imagined, given Bitty’s size and Annalye’s relatively delicate build. In his clean blue jeans and red and blue flannel shirt, he took up almost all of the sofa he was on, and not because he was fat. He was covered in muscle, clearly a field worker of some kind.
His hair was dark, just like Bitty’s. His eyes were some flavor of pale brown. Skin was the tone of Rhage’s. Face was … yes, there were clear echoes of Bitty’s features there.