Still, he hadn’t moved.
“Go ahead,” Fran said. Her body shook with her fast breathing. “Apologize to her for what you did. For what you did to this whole family.”
Costello lifted his eyes just enough to watch his younger sister. Slowly, subtly, I scooted my chair away from him. It was as if the air was crackling around him. Was he going to flip out? Attack Fran? What the hell was happening?
His voice was a mere ghost of his emotions. “I’ve apologized before, it didn’t matter back then. Why would it now?”
In a flurry of orange sequins and too much boob, Francesca tried to leap over the whole damn table. Kain moved faster, knocking his chair upside down as he rushed to hook his arms around her middle. “Holy fuck, Fran! Relax!”
In a crescendo of voices, the table exploded. Everyone shouted at one another, hands waving or fingers jabbing in the air. Some of it was aimed at Costello, who, through it all, sat beside me in silence.
His hands were in his lap; I saw how bone-white his knuckles were. Who was his quiet fury aimed at?
Over all the mess, Lulabelle’s voice rang the truest. “This is exactly what I didn’t want. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back, I’ve made it all worse.” Wiping purple stains from her cheek, she jumped to her feet.
“Lula!” Maverick shouted.
She wiped her hands on a napkin, throwing it down. “Thanks for the food. I’m going to bed.” Sidestepping the table, she walked toward the mansion with her head held high.
It amazed me to see Maverick put his face in his hands, hang his chin, and go still.
Thorne was shielding his mother from Fran’s furiously flailing elbows. Kain was struggling to hold her back; she was intent on getting at Costello, who finally walked off in silence.
Across the table, Kain met my eyes. His lips parted, silently mouthing “Sorry” at me. I smiled partially, hoping he understood I didn’t blame him. He wasn’t responsible for this drama—I didn’t think so, anyway.
I did wonder, though, as I sat there among a broken family that was busy knocking over wineglasses and screaming instead of talking, if I would ever learn about their old secrets.
And if I even wanted to.
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE -
KAIN
My shoes brushed over the hallway rugs. Even with the mansion’s lights turned down low, it was easy to see all around. Besides, I’d walked this way a thousand and more times. I knew where Lula’s room was.
She just hadn’t been inside of it for ten years.
Tapping the door, I whispered, “You in there?”
“Yeah.” Her answer came fast; she must have been awake in spite of claiming she was going to bed a few hours ago. “Come in.”
Cracking the door, I leaned inside. Lula was sitting on the edge of her bed, half facing me. Her hand twirled; she wanted me to shut the door. I did it softly. “Hey,” I said, approaching slowly. “Are you okay?”
“Why are you here?” The haughtiness in her voice sent me reeling. Lula made me feel like I was a kid all over again, hanging around her room for advice on how to solve one of the many stupid problems I’d come up with.
Shrugging, I said, “I wanted to make sure everything was good. You left pretty quick earlier.”
“Can you blame me?” Leaning back on the bed, she looked as stiff as a board. None of her muscles seemed capable of relaxing. “Some family dinner. I thought it might get messy, but still . . . maybe I shouldn’t have come back.”
Taking a step forward, I almost sat on the bed—her energy warned me away, but it didn’t stop the question that had been burning in me. “Why did you?”
Her dark eyes floated to me like moths ready to dive into a fire. “Oh, little brother. Because I’m a sappy idiot who missed her family.”
She motioned for me to sit. My chuckle mixed with the squeak of the springs. “Even fuckups like me?”
“Please. You’re not the fuckup.” Lula managed a tiny smile. That gave me even worse nostalgia. “I’m the one who caused this family to fall apart.”
“We haven’t fallen apart.”
“I’m pretty sure your little friend out there would disagree.”
“Sammy?” I asked, thinking about her sitting in her room—her new room, one that wasn’t a prison. Had anyone told Lula about what was going on?
My sister eyed me closely, like she’d read my mind. “Fran told me what Father did to her. How could you let it happen?”
I went red at her implication. I’d never let anything happen. “I tried to stop it. Sammy insisted she stay in there. I don’t have a damn clue why.”
Covering her mouth couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re seriously that oblivious. Kain, she was doing it because she was worried about you.”
Knitting my eyebrows, I said, “You just got back home. How would you know anything that’s going on?” My words weren’t meant to hurt; I saw her flinch slightly and realized they had. “Lula—”
“It’s fine. You’re right.” Stretching back on her pillows, she stared around at the blue walls. I followed her eyes curiously, wondering what she was seeing. “But that girl . . . she’s still a person. I like to think I understand people, Kain. You broke her out to host Fran’s wedding recently, right?”
Unsure where she was going, I nodded. “Yeah. That was her idea.”
Lula brushed some of her hair from her cheek. Her eyes cut through me, like I could hide nothing from her. And maybe I couldn’t. “Escaping after that would have been easy, especially if she asked you for help. She didn’t, right?” She didn’t let me get a word in. “I don’t know Sammy, but she obviously cares about you. So she sat in that damn room like a good little pet, and she sits in another room now, doing as she’s told.”
She spit that last word out; a cold knife stabbed into my guts. “You came back because you missed us. Why did you run in the first place? Was it really because Dad tried to lock you in that room?”
She threw an arm over her face. “Of course not. You know it was more than that.”
Keeping my tone even, I said, “No. I don’t.”
Her arm fell away, showing me how wide her eyes were. “What? Of course you do. How would you . . .” She trailed off, and then she grinned, but it was a broken excuse for one. “No one ever told you why it happened. Amazing.”
I didn’t know how she could look so smug. Was it because she’d just realized that, once again, our family had done something fucked up? “I know some of it,” I said. “Clearly not enough to understand why you left for ten years.”