Page 28 of Adam’s Rising (Midnight Sons #6)

C laire slammed to a stop right near the porch, flinging herself out of the Cherokee while it was still rocking to a halt.

She wasn’t late. Always running late, sure. But even if it meant skipping a hairbrush, she’d fly out of the house to make it somewhere on time.

She blamed her parents — mostly her father — for that quirk. He’d gotten so frustrated waiting for her mother to get ready that eventually, they agreed on one rule: A.I.S.

According to her dad, being on time meant you respected the people waiting on you. But sticking to their ass-in-seat rule also meant that he couldn’t fuss at her mother.

If he called A.I.S. for nineteen hundred hours, and she was buckled in at 18:59 and fifty-nine seconds, he wasn’t allowed to complain.

Turn beet-red, sure. But rules were rules — he had to bite his tongue.

Sometimes, Claire would catch her mom standing at the door, watching while her dad sat stewing in the truck.

Her mother would look at her watch, wink at Claire, then glide out the door.

Her mother had trained him just as well as he’d trained her.

More so, actually. Because while her dad still considered himself the head honcho, Claire knew who actually ruled the roost.

Claire slipped off her boots, then sprinted through the door. She needed to talk with Grams and get out of there before Duchess Lala exited her quarters.

“Grams!” She tossed the keys on the shelf, then took off for the kitchen.

Her grandmother woke up at four a.m., winter or summer. Didn’t matter if the sun was up or Claire had already taken over feeding the last of the animals.

Claire skidded on socked feet into the kitchen. “Grams!”

“ Hush , Claire-bear. Your grandfather is still sleeping.” Grams looked up from her morning crossword puzzle, traded her pencil for the still-steaming coffee mug in front of her, then gave Claire her full attention. “Yes, dear?”

Claire chose a ripe banana from the bowl, then plopped down across from her. “I need you to do me a huge favor.”

Grams nodded for her to continue. She was too reasonable to just say yes without hearing the rest.

“Remember the family who trained Buttercup?” Claire whispered.

Grams lifted her head, probably due to Claire’s hushed words. “Yes. Belgardes. Seems there was one your age you specifically cared about… Ad —”

Claire lifted a hand, stopping her, but then nodded. “You mean Peter…”

“Yes. Peter,” Grams agreed, furrowing her perfectly shaped brows.

Yeah, Grams was a country girl, but her grandmother had been a hottie back in the day, the reason she’d landed a man nearly twenty years her junior after losing her husband.

Claire had never minded calling the man who was practically the same age as her parents Gramps because he’d always been good to her.

Before Lala had moved up from the Lower 48, she’d never even considered that he was her step-grandfather.

Lala had been the one who’d pointed it out repeatedly anytime she felt Claire forgot it.

The realization stopped Claire in her tracks. She’d never reflected on that side of Lala. But now that she thought back, Lala would demand Gramps’s attention when he was talking with Claire.

Was Clara Mae right? Was Lala the type of girl who’d take such offense at a boy breaking up with her that she’d seek revenge?

“Claire-bear?”

Claire blinked. “Sorry! I got lost in my head. It’s a quick favor, and…” She cringed. Her grandmother was as honest as the day is long. And the day is really long in Alaska right now , Claire thought. “It’s not like dishonest, it’s just…”

“If you have to say something isn’t dishonest, child, it probably is.”

Claire gritted her teeth. She hated to pull the trust card, but she knew her grandmother trusted her.

“Please, Grams. I promise I’ll explain, but I need you to drive me to school today — before Lala comes out here.”

Grams stood. “I’ll go get dressed.”

She was dressed — technically. One of her many housecoats, as she called them. But Grams wouldn’t walk out of the house without pants, a proper shirt, and real shoes, a touch of powder on her nose, and at least a dab of lipstick.

Claire exhaled. “Thank you, Grams.”

Claire followed her out of the kitchen and darted into her bedroom, anxious to get ready and out the door before Lala showed.

For the first time in two years, Claire was thankful that Lala had never been taught the concept that it was rude to make others wait.

Claire had been late to school more times than she could count. It had gotten so bad that she’d made a habit of moving the clocks forward so Lala’s fashionably late ten minutes turned into Claire making it to homeroom by the skin of her teeth.

* * *

In the Cherokee, driving toward Clara Mae’s ranch, Claire tried to find a way to explain to Grams without revealing too much about Adam and Peter — and Thomas.

The vinyl seat crinkled when Grams turned sideways in the passenger seat. “Spill.”

Claire kept her eyes forward, but peeked at her grandmother. “Spill?”

“That’s the shortened version of Spill the Beans , Claire-bear.”

Claire laughed. “I’ve heard Spill . I’ve just never heard you say it. Sounds kinda trendy for my seventy-six-year-old grandmother.”

“ Old ?” Grams shrugged. “I’m not old — your parents were old. I’ve always been hip. It’s because I keep up with what the people are doing on my SOAPS.”

Claire could see that. But she decided to tease her, subtly reminding her that she had dirt on her. “You sure it wasn’t one of your True Confessions mags?”

“Claire Harper! Even though you’re driving, I can still say, turn this Jeep around , you know.”

Claire made a motion of zipping her lip. She wasn’t supposed to talk about the saucy mags stuffed in the side of Grams’s La-Z-Boy.

“So?” Grams pressed. She loved a good mystery almost as much as her SOAPS. While she said Jim Rockford was cute, she always ended with, but I wouldn’t lend him a dollar .

“I need you to help me enroll a boy in school,” Claire spat out the most honorable request first.

Unlike a lot of Alaskans, who treated their kids like hired help, requiring them to do chores sunup to sundown, preparing for the winter, Grams believed in education.

“How old is the boy?”

Bingo! Claire had her. She wouldn’t get involved with a child, but a teenager…

“He’s fourteen, the youngest Belgarde. His parents died, the same day mine did. How weird is that?”

“Very weird,” Grams agreed.

“Anyway…” She couldn’t talk about Thomas’s death, so she said, “His brother has to work and is only sixteen…”

Claire could see from the corner of her eye that she’d captured her grandmother’s complete attention again. “A sixteen-year-old is taking care of a fourteen-year-old?”

“Not really…” Claire faltered, then remembered, “Clara Mae was good friends with their parents, so she’s taken them in.” Which was the truth.

“Okay?”

“Still… You know how Clara Mae is.”

“I do.”

Claire didn’t have to see her grandmother roll her eyes. Grams had known Clara Mae since she was a child. Although Clara Mae had spent most of her life with her parents in Texas, she spent holidays and summers in Wasilla at her grandparents’ ranch.

“So, it’s not like we’re doing anything bad, but there’s no parent around to make certain the kid gets an education. His brother wants him to finish, but he knows if he shows up alone it will raise red flags. He doesn’t want the state to step in.”

Grams tapped her fingers on her leg. “I’m trying to find something wrong with this, but I agree. In this situation, the less said, the better. The school will just order his transcripts from Talkeetna.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

Grams patted her arm. “You’ve always been a thirty-year-old trapped in a teenager’s body.” The car was quiet for a second. “And how does Lala figure into this?”

Claire chewed on her bottom lip.

“Claire-bear? Why sneak out on Lala two days in a row? What aren’t you telling me?”

Grams wouldn’t breathe a word even to Gramps if Claire asked her, but would knowing something she shouldn’t cause her issues.

Claire definitely didn’t want to put her in harm’s way, but she couldn’t think of a believable lie.

Not that she liked to lie, but she believed that if a lie protected someone, it wasn’t really a lie — more like a misnomer.

“Again, I hate to ask this of you — because I know you do — but please trust me. I can’t — rather — I don’t want to bore you with details that don’t matter, so I’ll just say this, Lala’s confused about someone’s identity.

But you can’t ask Lala why she’s confused or tell Gramps — please.

Just trust me. Please don’t even mention helping out Peter. ”

Claire had said too much. But she trusted Grams to keep a secret. If she didn’t tell her not to say anything, she might slip, which could hurt Adam.

* * *

As planned, the moment the final bell rang, Claire raced to Grams’s Cherokee before Lala saw her, then circled back around for Peter.

Claire had waited in the hall while Grams walked Peter into the front office.

Grams said it was a piece of cake.

She’d taken Grams home afterward with a heartfelt thanks, then returned to school.

Claire pulled forward as each car moved.

When she was several car-lengths away, she spotted Peter.

He stood with his back to a wall, arms crossed.

He stood out in stark contrast to many of the students with his golden-brown skin and long, almost-black hair.

Most of the guys in school had short shag cuts.

“Hey!” Claire waved to Peter as she pulled up in the school line.

He didn’t wave or return her hello, just pushed himself off the wall and walked toward the Jeep.

As he walked around the front of the vehicle, Claire noticed a red gash just above his eyebrow.

Peter opened the door and crawled inside, dropping his books on the floorboard.

“Hello, Claire,” Claire attempted Peter’s low sullen voice. “It’s so nice to see you. Thank you for driving me home so I don’t have to take the bus.”

She pulled away, taking a moment to peek in his direction.

Peter had rolled up his jacket and had curled himself up against the door.

Claire took a sharp right, turning onto a side street. She squeaked to a stop.

“Hey, Peter? You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

She touched his arm. Although she’d known Adam better, she always liked his baby brother. In grade school, they even played together.

“Peter… Did someone?”

He flipped around, sitting upright. “I miss my home, okay? That’s it. I had friends there.”

She sighed. “I understand, Peter. I had to leave Talkeetna when I was your age, remember?”

He shook his head. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just…” He inhaled deeply, then dropped his chin to his chest. “It’s just not fair.”

Claire reached for his hand. “It’s not fair. I’m your friend, though. You can talk to me.”

He sniffed.

“Did someone hurt you?”

He shrugged, then his lips quirked up. “Tried.”

“Ahh… You showed them how tough Belgardes are?”

Peter looked up at her. “I didn’t start the fight — I never start the fight. But I finished it.”

Claire felt the same way. “Yeah, I had to defend myself Saturday night.”

He whipped his head up, similar to how Adam had the previous evening. “Who hit you?”

“My boyfriend — well, ex-boyfriend now.”

“Some guy hit you? Does Ad — Thomas know?”

Claire’s chest lifted with an emotional ache for the chivalrous Belgardes. Even Peter, two years younger than her, had a protective streak.

“He didn’t hit me,” Claire explained. “He tried to get fresh, though, so I used a climbing technique, then thrust my wooden heels into his ribs.”

Peter laughed almost as heartily as Adam had earlier. “Cool! I hope you broke several.” He sat back, his demeanor finally relaxing. “I didn’t know you climbed.”

“I have a rock wall in my barn. Do you like to climb?”

Peter’s head lifted quick and to the right, just like Buttercup when she was excited. “Yep! It’s the one thing I’m better at than most guys.”

Claire decided to share something she rarely did, but she felt Peter needed to confide in someone. So if she shared one of her secrets, maybe he’d feel comfortable to open up to her.

“I hope to work search and rescue one day. With my small frame, I think I can get to people others can’t.”

“That’s so cool! And exactly what Ad — damn.”

Claire touched his shoulder. “It’s okay, Peter. I know the truth.”

“It’s weird. I haven’t messed up once. But being here with you…”

“I get it,” Claire said. “We all spent a lot of time together in school.”

“He said you lost your parents, too.”

“Yeah, but my grandparents took me in.” Claire leaned back, looking at him. He looked better. “Hey, wanna come over to the house after school sometime? We can climb together.”

Peter nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Right now. Let’s get you home before your brother comes looking for you.”

Peter sighed. “Home. It’s a hole in the ground.”

Claire smiled. “Maybe not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your brother beat up one of the hands.”

“Adam beat up someone?”

“Yeah, Clara Mae was firing Frank…” Claire figured this was the time to head to the ranch.

Peter would be excited to talk with Adam about what happened, which hopefully would segue into how Peter got his scrape.

She shifted into drive. “It was the coolest thing ever. But I’ll let him tell you about it.

I was so shocked. I didn’t know he had it in him. ”

“Me neither,” Peter agreed with a snort.

Clara Mae’s ranch wasn’t far from the school, but Claire promised him she’d pick him up if Adam couldn’t take him. She’d never been keen on riding the bus, either.

Claire drove through the open gate and into the parking lot.

“Oh, damn… What the hell.”

Claire looked up, and it took every ounce of patience she had not to scream.

Lala !