Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(34)

Kol



Not you. Dex.





I glared at my phone as if I could make Kol feel my annoyance.

Me



She’s a good person.





Orion



No.





A wave of true anger surged.

Me



Fine. You guys are out, but I’m in. I’ll work this on my own.





It was stupid and goddamned risky, but damn it, I was going to help.





14





BRAEDYN





The door closed behind me with a soft snick. Logically, I knew the sound was quiet, barely audible, but it sounded like a cannon. Or a nail in a coffin full of hope.

I heard the sounds of a video game coming from the small living room to my left, Yeti’s bark in response to one of Owen’s cheers. But I couldn’t go in there. Not yet.

Instead, I leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor. Pulling my knees to my chest, I hugged them as tightly as I could, hoping that would keep all my grief, fear, and agony from spilling out over the worn hardwood.

I couldn’t break. Because if I broke now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pick up the pieces again.

The sound of the game cut off, and Owen’s curious face popped out from around the corner. I reached for reserves that were empty, trying to bring a smile to my face, but it wobbled around the edges.

Owen frowned and crossed to me, Yeti bounding over behind him. He slid to the floor, too, looping his arm through mine. “Are you sad?”

Yeti flopped on my lap, refusing to believe that her 142-pound self wasn’t a lap dog.

“Yeah, I’m sad.” The one thing I’d made damn sure to do raising Owen was let him know all feelings were valid in our house. And he was safe to talk about any and all of them. I didn’t want him to be raised like I was, where the only acceptable state of being was perfection, and emotions were seen as weaknesses.

Owen squeezed my arm tighter. “Did Mr. Dex not like your boobie cookies?”

One corner of my mouth kicked up. “No, I think he really liked them, actually.”

Owen’s head tipped back so he could study my face. “Then why are you sad?”

My throat suddenly felt painfully dry. Like I’d just taken a ten-mile trek through the Sahara without water. “I miss Nova.”

I was constantly walking a perilous tightrope when it came to Nova and Owen. For those first few months, I was so sure she’d be found at any time that I hadn’t wanted to lay that on my seven-year-old. And then the lie just grew. It weighed more and more the longer it went on. And now, I wasn’t sure if I was protecting Owen or myself.

Hurt flickered over his expression. “Does she not like us anymore?”

The words turned agonizing pain into something unbearable. My heart fractured into the sort of pieces you could never put back together again, and if by some miracle you did, it would never look the same. It would be misshapen with ragged edges and missing parts. Barely functioning anymore.

“She loves us more than anything,” I croaked and swallowed against my desert-dry throat. “Something’s keeping her from talking to or seeing us. It’s not her fault.”

Owen’s tiny brows pulled together. “Like she’s grounded?”

“Kind of.” I couldn’t think of any better way to explain it.

A scowl with more heat than I would’ve thought possible erupted on Owen’s face. “Whatever that thing is, it’s stupid.”

Normally, I didn’t allow that particular s-word in my house, but I couldn’t agree more in this case. “It really is.”

Owen laid his head on my shoulder. “I love you, Mom.”

A different sort of pain flared then. The beautiful kind. The staggering beauty of a real moment with the person you loved most in the world. “I love you, too.”

And that would keep me going. Because it had to.





I stared at the coffee machine, willing it to brew faster as Owen raced through the cabin in circles, Yeti barking at his heels.

Dear God, I needed caffeine—all the caffeine the world had to offer. I laid a hand on the top of the machine. “Please, don’t leave me hanging today. Give me all your beautiful life force.”

Because sleep had been fitful at best. Reopening my deepest wounds twice in one day was bound to bring out the demons, but they’d come full force. Nightmares where Nova called out for me, asking why I hadn’t found her, demanding to know why I’d abandoned her. I’d finally given up around four in the morning.

The sound of the doorbell rang through the cabin, sending Yeti barking and Owen changing directions. “I’ll get it!” he yelled.

“Owen, not yet,” I said, hurrying after him.

But it was too late. He yanked open the door, revealing six feet and four inches of towering muscle with a little more scruff than last night and dark circles under his eyes.

Owen’s hands went to his hips. “Did you not like my mom’s boobie cookies?”

I had the sudden urge to pull my sweatshirt up over my head and stay there.

A low chuckle slid through the air, hitting me with a wave of invisible vibrations.