Page 37 of Blood & Bond (The Bouchers #2)

Ambrose

“ W hen I suggested staying in bed for days, this wasn’t exactly what I meant,” I grumbled.

Charlie had carried over Zeke’s projector, and a film that wasn’t holding my attention played against the wall. Bags of junk food littered the comforter, and Lucy was currently bent nearly in half so that her head rested on my stomach. It would’ve been nice except for the extra person in our bed.

“I love this part,” Charlie said, pointing at the wall. “She doesn’t take his shit.”

“He says that,” Lucy joked. “But you should’ve seen him with Zeke. That guy could’ve told him his shirt was ugly, and he smelled like dog poo, and Charlie would’ve just smiled and nodded.”

“I would not,” Charlie retorted. “And Zeke would’ve never told me that, anyway.”

“True,” Lucy said, gently nudging her brother with her foot. “And I’d never let you smell like dog poo.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Charlie mused, his eyes on the movie.

“Really?” Lucy joked. “Let me know when you want to start.”

Charlie scoffed.

I would’ve loved some one-on-one time with Lucy, but I couldn’t be angry that she and Charlie wanted to spend time together after all that had happened.

My family had dealt with trauma on a smaller scale my entire life.

The males had gone on dangerous missions, fought in wars, and seen the worst of humanity firsthand.

My mother had lived through the Civil War, buried three children, and watched as her sons left to fight armies across the world—and even we were shaken.

They had come into our home. Our sanctuary. The one place in the world that should’ve been safe.

“I forgot how much I dislike the main characters in this,” Lucy said conversationally. “Neither of them is very bright.”

“They’re sweet,” Charlie countered.

“Whatever you say,” Lucy hedged.

“They overcome so many obstacles,” Charlie insisted, pointing.

“Obstacles of their own making,” Lucy shot back. “If they’d just talk to each other, half of their issues would be resolved.”

“You’re the worst person to watch a movie with,” Charlie grumbled, rolling off the opposite side of the bed with a thump. “I’m leaving.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Lucy argued, lifting her head. “I’ll pretend I like it.” She laughed. “Stay.”

“It’s two in the morning,” Charlie replied. “I’m going to bed.”

“Let’s watch a different one! Ambrose doesn’t mind,” she said, elbowing me in the gut as she boosted herself up. “Right?”

I just looked at her.

Charlie snorted. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Not too early.” He pointed at her. “I’m sleeping in.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Lucy replied, dropping back down with a sigh.

She paused the movie, and we lay there quietly, listening as Charlie left my room and shut the door behind him.

“Thanks for being such a good sport,” she said, carefully rolling to face me. “I think he needed some sister time.”

“I think you needed some brother time,” I countered, running my hand over her hip.

“That too.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Physically? Sore. The stitches on my ankle itch, and it feels like someone donkey kicked my thigh. Emotionally? It’s a crapshoot.”

My lips twitched.

“The overwhelming rage is gone,” she said with a shrug. “At least for the moment. That’s good, right?”

“It’ll come back.” I squeezed her hip. “All of it will come back. You’ll deal with it, and you’ll feel better for a while until it comes up again.”

“Oh, great,” she grumbled.

“You survived a traumatic thing,” I reminded her. “Give yourself time to sit with it.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry for what I said in the kitchen earlier. I wasn’t even mad at you .”

“It would be okay if you were.”

“It’s not like you knew it was going to happen.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

“Before or after I threatened to burn down your house?” she asked dryly. “I wasn’t exactly a pillar of logic at the time.”

“Finau was believable.” Just the thought of him made rage build in my chest. “He had to have a mate somewhere. That kind of thing is hard to fake.”

“Maybe they did take his mate,” Lucy said softly. “Maybe they told him that if he helped them, they’d give her back.”

My hand froze on her hip. “That would explain it.”

“I still hope he dies a horrendous death,” she said. “But it would make what he did understandable.”

“I’d do anything to get you back,” I confessed. “I’ll still kill him if we ever find him.”

Lucy smiled sadly. “I think you’d have to get in line. Your dad might beat you to it.”

“I could take him,” I boasted, completely full of shit.

“Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes and made a face.

“I thought you were calling them Mom and Dad now, not my mom and my dad.”

“Is that weird for you?” she asked, scooting up so she could lay on the pillow next to me.

“Not at all. Is it weird for you? You didn’t have to, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure your mom wasn’t taking no for an answer,” she replied wryly. She smiled. “It isn’t weird for me, which is weird. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Our parents weren’t terrible people or anything,” she said, tucking her hands beneath her cheek.

“They provided for us. We never went without, even when things were tight. They just…didn’t know how to be parents.

My dad grew up in a group home, so he really never had that kind of family life, you know?

And my mom’s wasn’t much better. I think my grandma tried, but she’d been through so much trauma in her life that she never really recovered. ”

“You don’t have to explain,” I assured her, cupping the side of her neck so I could feel her pulse against my fingers.

“My grandma on my mom’s side actually escaped Europe during the Second World War.”

“Oh?”

Lucy nodded. “She was only like thirteen or fourteen, and family lore says she went over the Alps to Switzerland and eventually made it to the United States. I don’t remember which country she left, but Charlie could probably tell you.

From what little my mom said, she wasn’t an easy woman to live with.

” She lifted her head. “Could you grab my bag?”

“Sure.”

I went and got her bag from the top of my dresser and set it next to her on the bed.

“So…remember when I told you I had to go back to Baltimore?”

“Hard to forget.”

“Well, this is why.” She unzipped her bag and pulled out a file folder, a binder, and a small cigar box and set them between us.

Opening the file folder, she shuffled through the papers.

“Birth certificates and my parents’ marriage certificate.

Both of our diplomas from high school and college. ” She neatly packed it away. “Boring.”

I smiled.

“This is the good stuff.” Sitting up cross-legged, she pulled off the rubber band that held the cigar box closed. Inside was an assortment of random tiny trinkets that she pulled out one by one.

“Are those teeth?” I asked, leaning to get a closer look.

Lucy laughed. “Yeah. The first one each of us lost. Actually, it’s my second one. I think I swallowed the first one.”

“You went back to Baltimore for your baby teeth?”

“Not just my baby teeth,” she replied loftily.

“This is the penny my dad wore around his neck. He said it was the first money he ever made, for pulling weeds, and he felt so rich that he couldn’t make himself spend it.

He carried it in his pocket for a long time, but eventually he just drilled a little hole in it so he could wear it around his neck. ”

She pulled out a gold ring with three diamond chips inlaid on the band. “My mom’s wedding ring. Dad didn’t wear one.

“This is a ticket for the first film festival Charlie and I ever went to. We thought we were so cool because we didn’t have to go with our parents.

” She waved a little ticket and placed it back inside.

“This is the only patch Charlie ever got in Boy Scouts. He only lasted a month before he lost interest. Between you and me, I think he didn’t like it because I couldn’t do it with him. ”

“Unsurprising.”

“Right?” She let out a little laugh. “This little guy sat on my parents’ nightstand. I have no idea why, since neither of them were Buddhist.”

Every small trinket had a story behind it, something that only she or Charlie would know or remember, and with each item she pulled out, her expression grew a little softer. As pragmatic as Lucy was, she’d still considered these bits and pieces of her past worth going back for.

“This,” she said, pulling the binder over. “Is everything else.”

Inside was a scrapbook of sorts. The front page was a photo of her and Charlie when they were around five or six years old.

Charlie was standing behind her, his little arms around her waist as he lifted her a couple of inches off the floor.

Lucy’s expression could’ve best been described as terrified as she stared at the camera.

“He did that for years,” she said with a snicker. “He thought it proved that he was stronger than me or something.” She flipped the page. “This is my parents on their wedding day.”

“They’re young.” Lucy’s parents didn’t have the glow that you’d normally see in a wedding photo. They were both smiling, but there was something about the way they held themselves, like they were uncomfortable in front of the camera or with each other.

“We got my dad’s eyes,” she said, looking a little closer. “Mom’s nose and hair, though.”

“You both have his eyebrows too,” I said, pointing.

“How can you tell?” she asked dryly. “My mom barely has eyebrows.”

She turned the page again, and there was a photo of what had to be her mother as a child, standing next to a woman who looked vaguely familiar. I leaned a little closer, trying to place her.

I let out a breath of surprise when recognition finally dawned.

Slowly, I pointed to the woman. “Your grandmother?”

“Yes. Her name was?—”

“Anna,” I said softly.

The memory of that same face, but smaller, softer, with wider eyes and a shy smile, made my chest ache.

“How did you know that?” Lucy asked, her brows pulled together in confusion.