She places a hand on my back and for the first time in days I feel a lot more grounded.
“I think I'm losing my mind,Mama,” I mumble softly.
“I think we all are, recently. Bit by bit.” She bites her lip. “Your father asked for you. He's meeting August to negotiate the return of the insignia.”
Father’s ring.
Yes, I can see why that would take priority. The insignia is the symbol of our power as a family. Having it taken is already a hard blow.
“Always such a pleasant start to the New Year,” I mutter as I turn away. “Ihope Father isn't underestimating August.” My eyes darken as I reach for a warm water bottle, “He hit us too deep, too fast. Until we figure out what he wants—” my words die when I remember the man I'm talking about.
“Right, Father would know that. He'd have taken enough men to start a shootout.”
“Aster is with him as well.”
August will learn the fear of god then, I suppose, if he gets on Aster’s bad side...
But I'm remembering Aster doesn't have a bad side.
Or a good side.
“If Christian wasn’t there, Aster would've shot me.” My eyes narrow.
“Aster would've never shot you, Reuben.”
“Then that means he counted on Christian trying to shield me,” I meet my mother's eyes, and I can feel the anger again burning inside me.
“What kind of sick fuck uses his brother to try to kill someone who’s trying to protect them?”
Mother's hand lashes out on instinct, I know. The slap she laces across my face splits my lip but at this point it's just our usual dance. I would've thought she'd use her fist this time.
We glare at each other silently, and I huff through my nose before a stark guilt takes over her energy. Her shoulders relax with a loud exhale.
“This is my fault. And your father's.” She folds her arms, not angrily but guardedly. “We should've been more open with you both. That way it would've never created such a rift between you.”
“What are you talking about—?”
“Aster was born with a deficiency.”
The words hover in the air.
I'm not... sure what they mean for a moment.
Until I do.
Until my heart is squeezing painfully in my chest.
“In his brain,” she says softly.
I shut my eyes tight.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck all fucker—
I turn away, beelining straight for the bar because suddenly I need a drink.
And maybe a coffin.
