Page 67 of Rule the Night (Blackwell Butchers #1)

MAEVE

It took me a minute to realize that the reason I felt shy around Poe’s grandma — a small, compact woman with long black hair and Poe’s dark blue eyes — was because I wanted her to like me.

Talk about trouble. It didn’t matter whether she liked me. I would be out of the Butchers’ lives in less than a month.

“You should sit,” she said. “Let me make you tea.”

“I’d prefer to help if that’s okay. I like to make food with my dad but I don’t get to do it very often anymore.”

She smiled. “Is he far away?”

I shook my head. “We’re just all… busy.”

“You can never be too busy for family.” She handed me a loaf of bread and a butter dish. “What is the point of life if not for them?”

It wasn’t meant to be an admonishment, but I couldn’t help feeling like she could see right through me, like she knew I’d been neglecting my family for the past couple of months. “You’re right.”

“Poe says you raised him and Whit?” I wanted to know more about Poe, about where he’d come from.

Jesus, M. You’re a goner.

I willed June to be quiet.

Poe’s gram looked over my shoulder to make sure I was buttering the bread correctly, then nodded with satisfaction. “After their mom — my daughter — disappeared.”

I froze in shock. “Your daughter disappeared?”

“Poe didn’t tell you?” she asked, picking up the pieces of bread I’d buttered.

I tried to remember Poe’s exact words. “He just said she hadn’t been around.”

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” she said, layering slices of roast chicken onto the bread.

I hesitated, trying to find the words to ask more questions without being disrespectful.

She gave me a sad smile. “Go ahead and ask.”

“Did she leave? Or did something happen to her?”

“The police wanted us to believe she left, but we know that’s not true. She wouldn’t have left her boys. But you know, the police…”

She trailed off, but I knew what she meant. I’d read the stories about Black and indigenous women, who went missing at a far greater rate than white women and never got widespread news coverage.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Me too. It was hard for the boys.”

“And for you, I’m sure.” I paused. “My sister was murdered last year.”

She looked up, her eyes wide. “Your sister…” She put down the piece of chicken she was holding and pulled me into a hug. “You know. You know.”

I nodded. “My mom is really having a hard time. I think it’s harder on her and my dad than the rest of us.”

It was difficult to imagine — June’s murder felt like it had changed me on a cellular level — but I knew it was true.

“Because it’s unnatural,” Poe’s gram said, pulling away to look at me. “Children are prepared to lose their parents. No parent is ever prepared to lose a child.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

She looked into my eyes. “We’re not alone in this loss, and so we’re never really alone.”

I didn’t know if it was true, but right then, it felt true.

It was something.