"Shut up," Kerrigan snaps.
"Very peaceful," he says, flames dancing in his eyes. "Sometimes I think I'm the only person in this family who cares about its future." He zeros in on me. "And then I receive confirmation that I'm right."
"I care about the future of our family, Duke."
"Sure you do," he says. "That's why you married someone none of us knew anything about." He stands up quickly, tossing his last sip of whiskey into the fire, and strides off to his tent.
CHAPTER 47
Dominic
Cecily wakesme at four in the morning.
"I can't sleep," she whispers.
"What's wrong?" I ask, reaching for the bottle of water on the nightstand. Cecily scoots aside so I can sit up and take a drink.
"Nothing." She falters. "Other than my grandma is dying, and every day I spend with her makes that reality come into sharper focus."
I recap the water bottle and set it aside. This whole thing, from accidentally marrying me in Vegas to facing her grandmother's imminent death, must be a mindfuck for her. I can't think of anything to say to make her feel better. Is feeling better the point? Maybe she just needs somebody to sit with her in the mess.
I place my hand on Cecily's knee, not for any reason other than to let her know I'm here for her. I'm listening.
Cecily looks outside, a swath of moonlight cutting across her face. We'd opted to open the blinds after turning off the lights at bedtime, readying ourselves for a spectacular Arizona sunrise. But now the moon glow on Cecily's features is giving the sunrise a run for its money.
"I was looking outside while you were sleeping and thinking about how pretty it is here, and how Sky Island is the perfect name for this place because it's like the sky goes on forever out there, nothing to halt the view. Then I thought about how Grandma brought us all on this road trip, planned it carefully and thoughtfully. We've been making an effort to get along to make her happy, and obviously that's great, but I think what would make her happiest is if we'd figure ourselves out." Cecily fingers the edge of the blanket. "She has been our common thread for so long. Once she's gone, what will keep us together?"
Cecily tucks her knees into herself and places her chin on her knees. Her dark hair spills down her back. "When I left Olive Township, I knew I was breaking ties with my family, but I still had my grandma. She was that connection to them, keeping me from truly being no contact. A passive string remained. Without her, it's going to take more effort on my part. And theirs, too. Do they even want that?" Her tone shrinks. "I hate that I have to wonder. It seems wrong for a person to ask themselves if their parents will want to put in the work to repair a relationship."
I move closer to her on the bed, pressing my lips to her shoulder. "It's wrong that so much has been broken."
Cecily's head turns toward me, her profile backlit by the cool light of the moon. My heart twists at her beauty. At the pain that tugs at her cheeks.
She shrugs. "All families are some degree dysfunctional."
"Just because it's normal, doesn't make it right."
I picture my therapist sitting across from me, saying those exact words. At the start of my sessions, I defaulted to defending my parents, even when I was in the middle of talking about what they had done.
"Did you learn that in therapy?"
I nod. "One of my biggest strides in therapy was learning how to let myself feel love for them while also feeling negative emotions."
"I think that's something I could stand to learn."
"If not for them, at least for you."
"Yeah." She snuggles down into the covers, and I follow, tucking her into my chest. "I wonder if there will be a time I help you with your parents. Or will it always be me needing your coaching?"
"If I need an ear when it comes to my parents, it'll mean my dad has been up to his old tricks."
"I want to meet them."
"Sure," I say, but the thought causes panic to rise in my throat. "We'll make it happen sometime."
Cecily drifts off to sleep, and I'm not too far behind her.
Early morning sun soaks our room, soft and warm and fuzzy. Cecily sleeps soundly, even breaths setting a rhythm in the rise and fall of her chest.
