Page 48 of What Remains

His brows tighten as he scrutinizes me. He’s acting like he hasn’t known me for half my life. As if I didn’t have his six when he was seeking retribution for his first wife’s murder.

“I can’t say she’s like a daughter. That’d be awkward since we⁠—”

“Had to make out during that undercover dating game op, and she had a crush on you back then?” So I heard. Now excuse me while I upchuck in my mouth for having said those words.

That kiss was a couple years ago, and of course, before Diana. (Before I was in Gwen’s life, too.) I also know that even if Diana didn’t exist, Carter would never have let anything happen with Wyatt’s daughter. Just like I can’t ever be with her.

Carter scowls, and it’s not the most pleasant sight, but it’s deserved. “I care about you both, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

Instead of getting all weirdly emotional about this—which isn’t what either of us want—I, of course, make a sarcastic remark. “Look at you getting all red in the face throwing a big word like ‘care’ around.”

“Wiseass.” He shoots me a lopsided grin that’s partially terrifying.

“I already have a brother now, by the way. Constantine. Remember him? Yeah, he married into that spot.” I wink. “Jealous?” I can’t believe I’m managing to land on yet another joke. “I mean, I could date Camila, and then we’d be pretty much family. I know she’s not blood, but close enough.” Batting a motherfucking thousand now. Maybe I’m healing.

“At least your sense of humor is coming back, but not your will to live.”

Good luck to the man who ever dates Camila. Carter’s not the big brother you want breathing down your neck. Almost as bad as having, well . . . Wyatt as a father-in-law.

“But seriously, I’m good. Better than ever really.” The lies are thankfully rolling off my tongue with more ease. “And no taking off. I won’t do anything to hurt Gwen again,” I relent, saying what I should have five minutes ago. Then we could’ve skipped all this feelings talk.

“But are you sure you’re okay?”

This has to be coming from his wife. I can’t wrap my head around this entire conversation. What the hell is happening to the man? Don’t tell me he’s going soft on me like Constantine’s starting to do. You know, only bringing people just to the brink of death—well, for the most part. Depends on the occasion.

“If I’d seen someone almost do that to Diana . . .” Rage narrows his eyes into two dark bullets aimed at the ceiling. Better his death stare focused there than on me.

“I know,” is all I can manage, because Gwen doesn’t have to be my wife for me to feel the same. “Anyway. I’m good.” I wave him off. “So, enough of this.” I turn and go for the door before he can get in another word.

The second I fling it open, my shoulders collapse, because I’m about to get lectured by “brother” number two.

“Juliette wants a word.” Constantine looks around me at Carter. “You give him a phone?”

“I did.” Carter bumps into me as he maneuvers into the hall. Wedged between these two is not the ideal place to be. “Call Juliette, then join us in the cabin so we can talk about the case.”

The case. Right. How was Gwen taken in the first place? And how do we find the monsters who did it without having a damn clue of Jezebel’s real identity?

“And I expect you to listen this time,” he mutters before walking off.

I face my new problem, shaking my head. “I can’t talk to my sister.”

“I’m sorry”—Constantine juts his chin forward and tilts his head in mock confusion—“did that sound like a request?” His forehead creases. “My wife wants to talk to her brother, and⁠—”

“And what your wife wants, she gets, huh?”

“Of course.” The side of his lip lifts, and the tension breaks. “Now, uh, about you, you good?”

At the moment? No. Physically? My back hurts. Mentally? Everything up there is in crisis mode.

“I’m fine.” That lie tastes like someone dumped an ashtray in my mouth. And I’d know. That’s one thing Jezebel did to me during her first “interrogation” two weeks ago. “I’ll text, not call. Trust me when I say she’ll worry more if she hears me talking.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re fine, then.”

I fake a laugh, because— “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Blame my son and your sister.” He smirks, then gestures for me to get a move on.

I head back into the bedroom, then shut and lock the door so no one else can bother me. After programming Juliette’s number into the new phone, I sit and stare at it. I have no damn idea what to say, so I start with a partial truth that I couldn’t bring myself to tell Carter.