Page 41 of Between Passion and Revenge, Part One (The Griot Chronicles #1)

STORM

M om sits on a stool at her easel in the converted garage, completely bathed in sunlight.

It’s bitterly cold and the heaters can only do so much in the dead of winter in Chicago.

But even bundled up in a soft, corded tan sweater and boots, her arms move elegantly along the canvas, painting a seascape.

A woman with rich, dark skin stands on top of the ocean, as if walking on water. She wears gauzy blue cloths around her waist, and gold draping around her chest. Behind her, the moon rises large in the sky, and in the distance, she’s drawn storm clouds and lightning.

It’s beautiful in a technical sense, but it’s the look in the woman’s eyes that’s breathtaking. There’s power, there’s sadness. There’s peace and worry.

The woman’s expression reminds me of Shae.

At that thought, I clear my throat, and Mom jumps, spinning sideways on her stool and pulling a white earbud out.

John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme plays from the tiny speaker.

“Jeez, you scared me!” she says, clasping a paint-flecked hand to her chest.

“Sorry, Ma,” I reply. “I’ve been standing here for like five minutes trying to get your attention, but you were in the zone, I guess.”

She gives me a sideways grin, twisting her lips. Rocking back on the stool, she hefts herself up and jumps to her feet.

“What’s got you so far from campus? I figured I wouldn’t see you again until someone’s funeral. Hopefully not my own.” She spins her brushes in murky water to clean them, putting her back to me.

“Wow, dark humor,” I drawl, and she shrugs, giving me a quick look before picking up a rag to wipe her hands with mineral spirits. “I’m going to come by on Christmas Day at least to say hey to you.”

At that, her expression brightens, but then she gets a far-off look, as if she’s worried about a million things.

Maybe she is. I know I fucking am.

Lakeland’s demands and my father’s weakness still tastes bitter, even separated by weeks since that damn Sunday dinner from Hell.

“Storm, I just…” She sighs and shakes her head as she stares at the floor. “Never mind all that. How are you, son? You’re obviously here for a reason. What’s up?”

She’s right. I am here for a reason: The reason being on top of the overwhelming need to see my mom and make sure she’s okay, I’m over my head with thoughts of Shae.

I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind.

How else can I explain the aggressive need to rush to her apartment and fuck her mindless until she forgets all the reasons why she thinks we shouldn’t be together?

I blow out a breath. Bringing the stuff about Dad and Lakeland to my mom will serve no purpose but to upset her. If my hands are tied with this mess, there’s certainly not much she can do.

“I need your advice,” I say, settling on a lighter topic. Mom’s eyes widen and her jaw drops.

“You? Need my advice? Well, hell, baby boy! Let’s sit and talk.” She gestures to the small sitting area in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, which let in all the sunlight on this rare cloudless day.

She settles on the ocean-blue loveseat and pats the armchair a foot across from her.

“Sit,” she commands.

I flop into the chair with a grunt and slide down, resting my head on the back.

“So, here’s what’s going on,” I start. Then, I find myself at a loss for what to say, so I stare at her.

Her brows come together.

“Storm? What is it, sweetie? You aren’t…you aren’t in any trouble, are you?”

I snap to at that question.

“Trouble? Like what?”

“Like…” She starts to flush. “Did you get someone pregnant? Or is someone claiming?—”

“Damn, Ma! No, I haven’t knocked anyone up, and there aren’t any kids running around claiming the Sandoval name.”

She slumps back into her seat.

“Good. Great.” She grabs her oversized stainless-steel water bottle and uncaps it, taking a large sip. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s about a girl,” I reply. There goes that look again.

“Oh? And does this girl have a name? Tell me about this girl.”

That’s easy.

“Her name is Shae. We had a class together this past semester and worked together on a project. She’s about the smartest damn person I know—she actually just got accepted to Harvard Business School.”

Mom makes an impressed face.

“Oh? That’s wonderful. Congratulations to her.”

“Yeah,” I grind out. “Except she doesn’t want to go, but I don’t think she’ll ever do what she wants for her, so….”

“Do you not want her to go? I know Cambridge is far away, but this is the 21 st Century. You can make it work if you want.”

I wave away her words.

“I get that, but that’s not what’s stressing me.”

She tilts her head.

“What is stressing you, then?”

Oh, if that isn’t the question of the fucking century.

“She’s back and forth on if she wants to be with me. I mean, I get it. She spent much of the first few weeks knowing me thinking I was with Bambi.”

Mom gives me a look that says something like, well yeah, do you blame her?

“I know you harbored some ideas with Ms. Lucielle about me and Bambina, but I can promise you that’s never gonna happen.”

She lifts her hands up, palms out.

“Heard, son. But now this Shae knows the deal but she’s still wary?”

I nod. “Pretty much. I’m not sure how to convince her how much she means to me. Because I feel… I feel a lot when it comes to her, and I don’t know how to handle it if she calls it quits.”

This is probably the deepest I’ve ever gone with anyone, especially my mother, about my emotions. It’s something that’s rarely discussed. Even after Rainn died, we went to individual grief counseling, but we never actually sat as a family and processed the loss.

Maybe that’s why we’re so fucked up now.

“Ah, I see. My boy is in love.” Mom’s words cause me to blink once…then again.

“I don’t know about all that,” I reply, even though the idea of love, the thought of loving Shae, feels right.

It just feels right.

After a moment of silence, Mom says, “Do you remember our trip to the Mississippi coast? You were maybe…seven? We hopped over to Biloxi after visiting your grandparents and rented this cute house right on the beach.”

I search my memories and come up blank.

“I don’t remember,” I say.

“It’s okay. The point is, the night before we were set to leave, we spent a little too long outside. You and Rainn were building the most elaborate sandcastle I’d ever seen, and you would not leave until you got the last turret just right.”

I close my eyes and try to remember, and I frown when I latch onto the memory.

“Rainn pushed me into the castle for some reason.”

Mom nods.

“Yes. You’d tripped over one of the lower towers he’d been working on. It was an accident, of course, but you two were so grumpy by that point, there was no reasoning with either of you about anything.”

I lift my shoulder. Sounds about right.

“Okay, so…is there a point to this little trip down memory lane?”

Mom smiles gently.

“Yes. Do you remember what happened after he pushed you?”

I think back.

“No. Should I?”

“Maybe. You almost drowned.”

My eyes bug out. “What?”

“It was the most terrifying thing to watch. Your dad had already gone inside to take a business call, so it was just me with you boys.” Her face hardens before she seems to deflate.

“You were so angry, you ran out into the damn ocean. The problem was that the tide was low, so you waded right into a rip current. It dragged you right out into the gulf.”

Her eyes slide closed, and her bottom lip trembles.

“I watched you struggle against the waves, but you were panicked. You knew how to swim by that point, but your anger and fear were literally dragging you under.”

I blow out a breath, running a hand over my mouth. I barely remember any of this, but as she recounts the incident, the sensation of the water pulling me farther from the shore unsettles me.

“How did I get out of it?”

Mom shakes herself a little and sits up straight.

“Your father. He heard me screaming and ran out to the beach to see what was going on. He kept calm and swam to the side of the rip. He told you to stop thrashing and swim toward him, parallel to the shore. Once you stopped fighting, you righted yourself and swam straight to him.”

I let that image settle before saying, “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

She releases a surprised laugh.

“You’re sorry? You didn’t really do anything wrong. You were panicked, so you just did whatever your emotions told you to do…even running out into the damn Gulf of Mexico.”

I twist my lips to the side.

“Here’s the thing, though. It sounds like you’re letting your emotions run you with this girl, too.”

I’m slow to nod at that. I’m all in with Shae. There’s no denying that at all.

“And just like when you got into that riptide, the more you fight, the more danger you put yourself in. Except this time, the danger is with your heart. And hers, too.”

Damn. That’s some straight Toni Morrison shit right there.

“Find peace within yourself. Allow yourself a moment to breathe and bare your heart to her. Don’t fight against her fears. Embrace them. And if she’s anywhere good enough for my boy or as smart as you say she is, she’ll see the right choice.”

A cloud rolls in front of the sun, causing the room to dim.

“Stop fighting and surrender to the waves, baby,” she finishes.

I pull my phone from my pocket when it buzzes and frown when Axel’s name appears.

Surrender to the waves… Maybe that means allowing myself to stop spinning around this shit with my father and focus on what really matters.

Shae.

I manage to make it a week before caving.

I’m surprised I make it that long. After leaving my mom, I spent another three days in my apartment. The only time I left was for a fight Riale tried to talk me out of.

I won, but not because of skill. My anger and aggression all channeled through my fists, and I didn’t stop until the promoter and four other fighters pulled me off my bloody opponent.

Otherwise, all I could do was sit with myself, and in the process, one thing became clear: this isn’t just about me, and it’s not just about Shae. It’s about us .