Then he opens the door.
“Mom,” Everest says warmly, his voice steady and full of pride. “I want you to meet my girlfriend—” He steps aside, hand still looped with mine. “This is Cove.”
The glass she’s holding hits the floor before I understand what’s happening. Punch splashes and ice scatters on the hardwood floor.
I flinch, heart lurching as her face drains of color. Not just pale—white. Like every ounce of blood has abandoned ship.
Her mouth opens a maniacal laugh. “This isn’t funny,” she says. “Where is he? Where is that bastard?”
I freeze.
Everest turns to me, confused, then back to her. “Mom—what are you talking about?”
She staggers back like the question was a slap. “No,” she says, her voice thready. Then again, louder. “No. No. No no no?—”
I feel cold. Like the floor dropped out from under me.
Everest steps in. Instinctive. Protective. His arm slips around my waist, anchoring me. He presses a soft kiss to my temple, trying to keep me grounded.
“She’s not normally like this,” he whispers against my skin, but his voice trembles.
He’s scared too.
He turns back to her, jaw tight. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he says evenly, “but I’m with her. So whatever this is, can we please just?—”
That’s when she breaks.
“You can’t be together!” she screams. “That’s sick!”
Sick.
My stomach drops.
“What?” I whisper. “Why?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
EVEREST
She looksbetween us like she’s seeing ghosts. Like she’s trapped in some nightmare that won’t let her wake up.
“That’s your cousin,” my mom breathes, her voice cracking. “That’s my niece.”
The room tilts. Cove goes still beside me, her hand limp in mine.
“…What?” she whispers, voice like paper crumbling in a quiet room.
My brain can’t make sense of the words. Cousin? Niece? I squeeze her hand. I think I squeeze her hand. I’m not sure if I’m still breathing.
“My dad…” Cove starts, but then stops. Shakes her head like she’s trying to knock something loose. “He said he had a sister. But she died. I never knew her name.”
My mom flinches.
Punch is still dripping off the shattered glass on the hardwood floor. The scent of citrus and cranberry fills my nose. Everything feels like the air is vibrating with wrongness.
“Dead,” Mom whispers. “He told you I was dead?”
“Wait,” I manage to say. “Wait, Mom—what the fuck are you talking about?”
