Then I take my coffee and do exactly what he suggested.
Chapter Fourteen
Gabe
Pulling my bike up to my parents’ house gets weirder and weirder the longer I live at the Draven’s mansion.
It’s not home anymore.
I feel guilty even thinking that, because my parents did everything to give me the best possible childhood. You only have to look at half the kids around me in my classes at Draven to know that I’m lucky. Half of them were brought up by parents so traumatized by what happened in the riots that they became overprotective to the point of smothering.
Grey can barely breathe without his dad’s permission, even at twenty years old he lives under their rules.
My parents were protective but wanted me to experience a normal childhood. They took me to football games and let me go out with my friends. Once I shifted for the first time, they’d relaxed the rules even more, because they knew I could defend myself better than most.
They were great parents… until they weren’t.
Home, for me, is always going to be wherever Oli is.
I send a text to North to let him know that I’ve gotten here without incident and try not to feel like a child about it. I have to remind myself that we’re all checking in with him at the moment. He’s staying at the mansion, and everyone is answering to him so that we’re all accounted for, but it still prickles at my skin a little.
I have to remind myself that it’s for Oli, because that makes it worth it. She’s the reason we’re all staying close, staying connected, and staying vigilant, because there aren’t just people out there who could hurt her, there are people specifically targeting her, which is a whole different beast.
Losing her is not an option.
So I’ll toe all of the lines without question, the texting and checking in and all of the extra security shit, because if it’s keeping her safe, then it’s worth every fucking second.
The front garden of the house is perfectly manicured and maintained; the gardener is doing his usual exemplary job. There’s nothing out here that would suggest that anything had gone wrong inside over the last four years. There’s no sign of the breakdown I’m about to face head on and hope to come out without feeling like having one of my own.
I fuss around with my keys until I get the door unlocked, wiping my feet on the mat and glancing around as though there’s any chance of something being different here, as though maybe there was some life in the place again. Nothing. Of course.
I sigh and call out, “Mom? Are you home?”
It’s a stupid question. She never leaves the house now. The housekeeper, Nina, spends her time keeping my mom fed and alive more than she actually cleans anymore. There’s only really dusting to be done now that mom has taken to her bed.
I’m not being dramatic there. She’s literally taken to her fucking bed.
I grab the pile of mail in the basket where Nina leaves it for me. It’s tough to admit to myself that it’s the only real reason I came here today. If I don’t stay on top of shit around here, it’s not getting done.
There’s a fresh bunch of flowers in front of the family portrait in the foyer, the shrine that Nina keeps so that mom doesn’t lose her shit on the off chance she walks down here. It’s a good photo of the three of us, taken a few weeks before Oli’s disappearance, and we’re all genuinely happy in it. Fuck.
I let my eyes drop away and take the stairs two at a time, avoiding the creaks out of pure habit because there’s no real need to be sneaking my way up here. I did that enough as a stupid teenager, coming in from parties and football tailgates that went on a little too long. Back before this shit.
I knock softly on my parents’ bedroom door, pushing it open a little because there’s no chance of catching mom in an awkward situation. She’d have to exist for that to happen. “Mom? How are you feeling today?”
The curtains are pulled shut and the room is only lit up by a soft lamp. I’d guess Nina turned it on this morning to attempt to get her up, but even the tray of food at her side has barely been touched.
“Mom? It’s Gabriel. I’m home to see how you’re doing.”
There’s a sigh from the lump on the bed, and I try not to let it dig under my skin. That tiny sound makes my skin shrivel in shame, like I’m a burden to her for being here to see her. Like she just wants to be left here to waste away to nothing and I’m forcing her to stay.
Am I?
Probably.
“Gabe, Mommy is tired. I’ll come and play with you after a nap.”