Fire Night (Devil's Night 4.5)

For all I cared, I hoped they never found it. That boat was cursed.

“Has he talked about it?” Rika asked.

Who?

But then I realized, she was still eyeing Mads.

I sighed. “I doubt he will.”

Kai might’ve freaked out, but I wasn’t sure it registered with his son. Mads’s sense of empathy wasn’t like others.

At least that I’d seen.

I gazed out at the scene, gold and red paper scattered all over the floor, while flames flickered on the tree, the red ribbons hanging down and looking so beautiful against the snowfall still coming down outside.

Tomorrow there’d be food and sledding, and maybe some football in the snow, because if there was anything we knew now, it was that every moment with each other was exactly where we belonged.

Treats covered the dining table as a fire burned in the fireplace, and Emmy started a record. I smiled, tightening my hold on Rika and hoping we never had to go through again what we went through tonight.

And if we did, please let it be years from now. My heart still hadn’t slowed.

Athos tried to catch a peek at Mads’s drawing, but he just turned away as she ruffled the hair on his head. I watched her walk over and climb up onto the windowsill across the room, sipping her punch while she watched everyone.

My heart fluttered, and I almost choked on the words.

“I watched you watching us from that window so many years ago.” I pointed to where Athos now sat, remembering that Devil’s Night so long ago. “Trying to not feel you there, but needing you to stay.”

She leaned her head against my body.

“We were right about here when I sent you in blindfolded,” I pointed out.

“Pushed me, you mean.”

I chuckled. I was such a dick.

I was still a dick, but she loved me anyway.

She clasped my arms, hugging me back. “I wanted to feel everything, as long as I could feel it with you,” she told me. “All these years later, that hasn’t changed.”

Not even an inch.

The music played and the children laughed, most of them completely unaware of what had happened tonight, although Rika had filled Athos in.

We created our life here.

One life. One chance.

“No one stops us,” she whispered. “No one owns us.”

I held her tight. “And we’re not changing.”

I rubbed my ears, the friction filling my eardrums and making the noise of the party fade and seem farther away than it was. Over and over again, I drowned out the chatter, the dishes being cleared downstairs, the doors opening and closing….

I liked noise. Rain and birds and wind. I just didn’t like other peoples’ noise. It made the room feel small. Too small. I couldn’t think.

After presents and treats, I’d slipped into the upstairs bathroom, closed the door, and stood there for a couple minutes—maybe more—rubbing my ears as I closed my eyes. I hated that I did it.

I hated that it helped.

I hated that I had to hide to do it.

Because I hated the way Ivar looked at me years ago when he caught me doing it.

I could read the room by now. I knew I was never going to be him, and I knew what parts of me to keep quiet.

Sitting on the edge of the tub and holding my head in my hands, I listened to my breathing in my ears, hearing my pulse, and eventually felt everything slow. My heart. My breathing.

My thoughts.

I drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, feeling the steadiness and calm return.

Finally, I rose from my seat and turned to face the mirror, straightening my hair on both sides, and pushing the quarter of an inch growth behind my ears. I’d have my dad take me for a trim tomorrow. We usually went every other Saturday, but I didn’t want to wait.

Pumping some soap into my palm, I washed my hands again, dried them, and then brushed my fingers down my clean black suit and straightened my tie, the habit of feeling my clothes making me feel secure. Like armor.

I exited the bathroom and turned off the light, heading to the boys’ room we all shared when we stayed over at St. Killian’s.

But heels hit the floor behind me, and I heard my mom’s voice. “I have pajamas.”

I glanced over my shoulder, stopping and taking in her dress. I loved it when my mom dressed up. It was pretty.

“I’m okay,” I told her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you want to sleep in something more comfortable?”

“I am comfortable.”

I’d showered when we’d returned and changed into a fresh suit.

I started walking again, but I heard her step toward me. “Mads, I—”

I jerked my head. “No, don’t come,” I told her, turning to face her. “I want to be alone.”

“I want to sit with you tonight,” she told me.

My stomach knotted. That was the last thing I needed. I knew she was just trying to do what she thought parents should do, or she assumed I needed something that I didn’t know I needed—like a talk or a hug or something—but parents made everything worse. I didn’t need help.