Page 13

Chapter 13

Caspian

Kit pressed me and Frost into the back of the car for the evening, insisting that he could drive the damned thing himself.

Well actually, he called it a boat, and then gave Ember an ironic look, muttering something about how she needed to step outside the Moonstriker box sometime instead of buying “yet another of your mother’s ridiculous white land-tanks.”

She hadn’t even defended herself, just shrugged with no interest in the subject of cars, then given him a challenging half-smile. “She’s not my mother either, actually. I think we’re both well familiar with how that works.”

Kit snorted but didn’t respond, just climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the car on.

Part of me wanted to be worried. I rarely got into a car someone else was driving. Being out of control was . . . well, it was out of control. If someone tried to hit us, it would be down to Kit to save our lives.

Fortunately, he was still the scariest bastard I’d ever met, and I was pretty sure he was invested in seeing all of us to Verisa alive.

So we all piled into the car with the bags, and—had Kit managed to save all of them? That was fucking incredible. Admittedly, I still didn’t think we needed a bag of granola bars, but still. Other things had proven more useful than I’d thought. I imagined Ember had used some of that bag of money on the car, which had turned out to be completely necessary.

Things were silent in the car for a while as Kit navigated onto the nearby highway, but I wasn’t going to be the one to break it. I had no freaking clue what to say. We were in this whole mess because of my father being a disaster, after all. It wasn’t like anyone in the car was unaware.

“She is my mother,” Frost finally said. “I know she . . . she always treated me better than the two of you. I knew then, too. I didn’t know what to do about it. How to fix it.”

“It wasn’t your job to fix it,” Ember told him, reaching her hand back and patting his knee. “Besides, she didn’t treat you better , not really. Yeah, yeah, she treated you different. She treated you like she expected great things from you. But that’s not necessarily better. I got away with a lot of shit she’d have grounded you for months over, because she didn’t care what I did. I was a burden. You were burdened .”

Frost frowned at that, his eyebrows drawing together in the middle of his forehead.

It was hard to imagine what it was like, to find one’s mother a burden. Except . . . was it?

I reached across the space between us and took his hand, squeezing it. “My mother died when I was eleven. She was an addict, and it killed her. She spent the last few years mostly in bed, and I was the only one who tried to take care of her. To make her get up and eat and bathe.” I met Kit’s eye in the rearview mirror, and instead of damning awareness, all I could see in his expression was sympathy. “Dad kind of disappeared after she died. I mean, it’s not that he was there for us before. But before, he was working. Running the family. After, he was just drunk, or high, or both. Not gonna lie, I’ve tried to do the same sometimes, since it seemed to work for him. It’s just . . . it doesn’t work for me, for some reason.”

“Drugs aren’t how you escape,” Kit said, matter-of-fact, like he wasn’t guessing. Like he knew me so well that it was simple.

There wasn’t much I could say to that, because he was right.

“I became an asshole,” he said, his tone light, explanatory. “I knew I’d never be what Delta wanted from me, so I grew this asshole persona, to act like it didn’t bother me, even though it did.”

Frost squeezed my hand even tighter, and I could feel that he wanted to reach up and hug his brother.

“Then when I was ten or so, I overheard a conversation and realized I wasn’t her kid. And my father? He’s always been amazing to me. He loves me just as I am. So suddenly the asshole persona was just who I was. He’d always been fine with me acting like that, just like he’d always accepted everything about me. So why not keep right on pissing Delta off, when she’d never given me anything but grief?”

“I just avoided her whenever I could,” Ember said, sighing. “I tried for the first few years, because I was afraid if I wasn’t good enough, she’d send me to an orphanage. But when it became obvious that Rain was the only one who’d ever really satisfy her, I just started standing in his shadow as often as I could. Oh, I failed a test? But Mother, look at the amazing random thing Rain did. Isn’t he the best? How could I ever try to compete with him?”

Frost looked more and more perturbed as she spoke. “And she accepted that?”

“Of course she did. Sometimes you too, though usually that was stuff that quietly pissed her off. Like hey I heard that Frost surpassed your record for the highest GPA ever at the college you both went to, isn’t that great?” She looked like a little kid, or a goblin, the way she hunched into herself giggling at that. “Oh my fuck, that one was the best. I used it for a year after you graduated. She had to act proud because you did amazing, but she was fucking seething the whole time.”

Even Kit was smirking at that. “I’m sorry I missed it. Can’t say it surprises me, though. You’ve always been smarter than her.”

Already, Frost was shaking his head. “No. Not possible. I mean, maybe at . . . at physics or math or things like that, but I could never run a family.”

Ember turned and met my eye first, then scooted all the way around in her seat. “Neither does she, Frosty. Uncle Cove does that, remember? Oh sure, she’s been the power behind the throne as long as we’ve all been aware, but the actual work? That was all him. I don’t know what the hells she’s gonna do without him, because Rain isn’t going to put up with her doing none of the work and making all the decisions. Uncle Cove is a fucking saint.”

Frost was silent for a moment, absorbing that, before finally, he took a deep breath. “I . . . I hate her sometimes. Nothing I’ve ever done has been good enough. Nothing any of us has ever done. She chased Kit away, and . . . I didn’t know what to do, back then.”

“I thought you’d be okay,” Kit said, meeting Frost’s eye in the rearview mirror, looking downright sad. “I waited till you were about to go off to college, so you wouldn’t have to live with her alone.”

“Didn’t wait till I was going to college,” Ember grumped.

Kit snorted. “She’d have kicked me out long before that, Em. Three years was a long fucking time in Moonstriker Tower back then, and every night was another screaming match about how I was wasting my life and opportunities. Next you’ll say I should have waited till Rain went to college. She and I would have killed each other. News at eleven, Lord Moonstriker’s sister and eldest son fall off the top of the tower while grappling with each other. The peace garden walkway at the bottom of the tower will never be the same.”

Ember giggled some more at the gruesome thought, and Frost grimaced.

Then he looked at his siblings, as though surprised. “You don’t think I’m being ridiculous.”

They both turned and looked at him, and I tried not to cringe at Kit taking his eyes off the road. He turned back quickly, and I could breathe again.

“For what?” Ember asked, incredulous.

“For . . . for hating her. I was her son. Maybe she wasn’t always nice, but she was . . . she didn’t dismiss me the way she did you.”

Ember scoffed. “No, she expected you to be her pack mule. Do all the work I don’t feel like doing, Frost. Because unlike Rain, you were too nice to just tell her no. It’s why he’s going to be the next Moonstriker, you know. Winter—Kit, you told her ‘no’ all the time, but like, you just did it. Like hells no, you’re wrong and I don’t care what you think anyway. I avoided her at all costs. Frost buckled under and did whatever she demanded. Rain was the only one who came up with creative and reasonable explanations for why she needed to do things herself, that somehow made her and us all happy.”

“He’s a natural leader,” Frost said. “But it’s still . . . she’s given me everything. It’s irrational for me to?—”

“I hate my mother sometimes,” I said, cutting him off. “She was sick, I know that. Addiction is an illness, and she was sick. But sometimes it’s just . . . why couldn’t she overcome it? Some people do. They get better. They fight it. But she didn’t. She just fell right into it, over and over, every time temptation popped up. So I ended up being the one who fed her and clothed her and made her shower sometimes. Right up until she died. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but sometimes I think . . . didn’t I deserve to have a mother who was there for me? Who cared enough to fight back?”

He turned toward me, squeezing my hand tight, his face radiating sympathy, looking like nothing more than a puppy whose human was sad. “Caspian, that’s awful. Of course you did. None of that is your fault. You were a child. How were you supposed to take care of yourself and a grown woman as well? Why would anyone think you were the one who should take responsibility?”

“There wasn’t anyone else,” I answered simply. “But that’s not really the point. I’m saying my mother was sick. She needed help. Yours isn’t. You’re not sitting there staring at me in shock and horror for saying that sometimes I hated her. Why would you think you’re not allowed to hate your mother a little, for the things she’s done? You were all kids, taking care of each other because she wasn’t taking care of you. You’re all amazing, because you raised each other.”

“Uncle Cove helped,” Ember added. “He used to run interference for me after Kit left. Whenever I did something she was getting mad about, suddenly there he was, asking Mother’s attention on a problem. And fuck me, but she took it out on him. After all, she’d deigned to put him in charge, so why couldn’t he do the very simple job she’d assigned him without her help? But then I’d slip away, and he’d face her attitude alone.”

She ducked her head, but Kit took his hand off the wheel to reach over and pat hers. I winced again.

Two hands on the wheel. Always two hands, unless you were actively changing gears.

Kit, meanwhile, met my eye in the rearview mirror, and he looked like he was about to laugh. “This is actually killing you, isn’t it? Not driving?”

I winced. “I’m . . . fine. I’m just not used to being back here.”

“And you’re the most careful driver I’ve ever seen,” Frost added. “Anyone else must seem downright reckless to you.”

“Well sure,” Kit agreed. “He’s learned to be extra careful in every situation, because if he’s not, he’ll end up dead.”

For a moment, silence fell over the car, and I was afraid that once again, my presence had made things awkward. Well, and Kit pointing shit out, the asshole.

But then, he’d said quite unapologetically that he was an asshole, and I didn’t doubt him for a moment.

Ember was the one who finally broke the silence. “Kinda makes me want to kick your ass, Kit.” He turned and lifted a brow at her, and she shrugged. “You’re the only person in this car who has a living parent who’s worth a damn. I’m jealous.”

I couldn’t have said why exactly, but we all burst into laughter.