Great and Precious Things

by Rebecca Yarros

  Someone save me—this was about to get ugly. I swallowed the broccoli, which slid down my throat as smooth as ash.

  “You took Camden Daniels into her apartment? Where Rose lives?” Dad growled.

  “What do you think he was going to do, Dad? Graffiti the place? Clog the drain and start a flood? He’s not a kid anymore,” I retorted. “Oscar Hudgens hit him with zero warning, and Tim Hall was coming at him, so I took him upstairs and got him out of the line of fire.”

  “And you thought the apartment was appropri—”

  “That’s my apartment,” Charity interjected, addressing Dad directly.

  Hell had officially frozen over. While she’d always brought Rose around and encouraged their relationship, she’d given up trying with Dad after Rose turned two and now spoke to Dad exactly three times a year.

  Happy birthday.

  Merry Christmas.

  Happy Father’s Day.

  It was March, and none of those applied.

  Mom’s fork hit the plate, but neither Charity nor Dad looked away from each other.

  “It’s my apartment,” she continued. “Mine. I own that whole building, and I get to say who goes into my bar. My home, for that matter, too. It’s mine. Just like Rose is mine.”

  Dad put his silverware down with care.

  Maybe now was a good time to stand up and twirl around in my super-short red skirt like a matador with an angry bull.

  “I’m sorry that it bothers you that Camden was in my home, but I trust him. I trust Willow.”

  “Well, I sure don’t trust Camden, and I’m not sure I can trust you, either,” Dad said, his gaze sliding to me. “Taking his side after everything that boy has done.”

  “I hardly think petty vandalism and a few fistfights make him untrustworthy.”

  “You call setting fire to the bunkhouse petty vandalism? That building survived a hundred and thirty years before Cam destroyed it.”

  “That fire was ruled accidental, and you know it,” I snapped.

  “You almost died.”

  Smoke filled my memories, acrid and harsh in my throat. “Cam saved my life.”

  “After he put it in danger in the first place. It may have been ruled accidental, but we all know what really happened. He set it on fire just because he could. That boy has always been destructive and dangerous.”

  “He was a kid, Dad. An entire decade has gone by, and he’s spent it serving his country and finishing his education. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” I searched my father’s face, looking for a drop of compassion, a crack in his steel-enforced moral code.

  “It means that the boy who was prone to violence went and found himself a career where he could continue that violence, and they decorated him as a hero for it. People change in very small ways, Willow. We change our decision-making and even our actions, but we don’t change who we are here.” He tapped his chest.

  “A career where he could continue that violence,” I repeated. “That’s not what you said when Sullivan enlisted. You told him how proud you were, how he was a man to admire for serving his country just like his father and brothers had. Why is Cam’s choice any less honorable?” They had made the same decision, so how was it that Sullivan was applauded while Cam had been sneered at?

  Dad sucked in a breath, his posture going straighter than the supports on the bench he loved to sit behind. “I thought the military was good for Camden and told Art exactly that. The boy needed some discipline.”

  “And he’s now an engineer, Dad. This town needs him, and yet you tried to run him off, not because it was the rule but because you don’t like him.” I shook my head. “I’ve never seen you step outside your little black-and-white code and bring your own bias into a decision like that.”

  “This town needed Sullivan more. You needed Sullivan more.” The skin between his brows wrinkled, and pain filled his eyes for a second before he blinked it away.

  I didn’t examine the truth or the lie in his statement.

  “It’s not Cam’s fault that Sullivan died.” The words fell from my lips as if they’d been doing it for the last six years, though they never had before. Not that I’d ever blamed Cam. I knew better than that. I’d simply never contradicted Dad because he’d never been bold enough to say it in front of me.

  There is more beauty in truth. Cam’s words from the library, reciting that book, settled on my chest with a warmth I didn’t deserve. Shame crept up my neck, hot and uncomfortable. I’d known what my father had thought all these years. I should have said it long before now.

  My silence may as well have been an endorsement of Dad’s preposterous thought. Of the entire town’s.

  “He was there. Did you know that?” Dad challenged.

  Charity reached into my lap and gripped my hand.

  “Yes.” It was well known that Cam’s unit had rushed to the firefight that took Sullivan.

  “He gave an order that got Sullivan killed.”

  I’d heard that rumor, too.

  “It wasn’t Cam’s bullet that hit Sullivan, Dad.”

  “He sure as hell didn’t save him, did he? If you were in battle with your sister, you would have been right by her side.” He left the damning accusation hanging there.

  Charity’s hand tightened around mine, and I squeezed back.

  “I can’t answer that, Dad. I’ve never been to war. Have you?”

  He pulled his napkin from his lap and flung it on the table. “Thank you for dinner, sweetheart. I’m going to start on the dishes.” He pushed back from the table and stood, taking his plate with him. He seemed to struggle with his thoughts, then brought his eyes to mine. “I saw what Sullivan’s death did to you. When you watch the person you love most lose what they love most, then you’ll understand. But I pray to God that never happens to you, Willow.”

  He left the room, taking some but not all of the tension with him.

  My eyes swung past Rose, who was chewing slowly with wide eyes, to my mother, who glared at both Charity and me.

  “I’m going to help Grandpa,” Rose announced, springing from the table, plate in hand.

  “Traitor,” Charity whispered at her daughter’s back with a little smirk.

  “Really, girls? You with the whole ‘my life, my rules’ thing.” She pointed at Charity. “And you with…”

  “The truth?” I offered.

  “You can’t make him accept Cam. The day he brought you home with that broken nose, your dad made up his mind about him.” Mom shook her head as the sound of the faucet running started from the kitchen. “The fire sealed the deal.”

  “I was nine and fell in the mine,” I argued. “Cam was the one who found me and brought me home after—” I dropped Charity’s hand and put my napkin on the table. It didn’t matter how many times I went over the events of that day; Dad would always side with Xander and against Cam. “And it was Cam who carried me out of that fire when I lost track of Sully. Cam, Mom, not Sullivan. And it was almost ten years ago!” Almost ten years since I left the white onyx bishop on Cam’s dashboard when he wouldn’t let me thank him.

  “I know how you feel about him,” Mom whispered.

  “Well, that makes one of us,” I muttered and stood.

  “For the love of God, Willow, that skirt can’t possibly pass the fingertip test.” Mom’s lips pursed.

  “It doesn’t,” I assured her, dropping my hands straight down my thighs to show her that it was a few inches shorter than her ridiculous mandate.

  “I had a child out of wedlock,” Charity blurted, standing next to me.

  Mom sighed, waving us off as she stood up. “This is not a competition. Now, both of you get home. The snow’s coming down heavy, and it looks like the wet stuff. I’ll handle the dishes…and your father.”

  We kissed her cheeks, and after Charity had Rose buttoned
up, we escaped out the garage door. One look at the accumulating snow and Rose’s dress shoes, and Charity hefted Rose into her arms.

  “Crap, she wasn’t kidding,” Charity groaned as she trekked through the water-laden snow. We were up to at least five inches already.

  “Here.” I scrambled, slipping twice as I got ahead of her to open Charity’s back door. “In you go, Rosie. Love you.” I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

  “Love you!” she called back.

  “I have to stop feeding you so much,” Charity complained with a grin as she lifted Rose into the SUV. “Buckle up, buttercup.” She shut the door, leaving us standing in the silence that only comes with snowfall. “It used to be easier to carry her.”

  “She used to be smaller.” A wave of gratitude hit me—I’d be around to see her grow again. She’d shot up in the four years I’d been gone. “You spoke to Dad.”

  “You defied him.”

  We both nodded and then hugged, holding each other tight.

  “I should have said something earlier, about Cam and Sully,” I admitted into my sister’s hair.

  She squeezed me closer. “You did what you could when you could.”

  “I should have said something earlier about you, too. About you and Rose. I never should have stayed quiet and let him shun you. I was just trying to keep the peace, but it was wrong.”

  She shook her head against mine. “No. No, Willow.” She pulled back, cupping my cheeks in her bare hands. “That was my fight. Not yours. Don’t you ever apologize for that. You have always shown up for me. For Rose. And you keeping that peace is what allowed me to bring her around those first years before you went to college. You laid the groundwork for it to keep going once you left. You’re the reason we can still have these dinners. The reason I know he loves Rose more than life. You’ve held your tongue in the moments I couldn’t, and that’s something to be proud of. Restraint can be so much harder.”

  I blinked furiously, keeping the burn at bay as snowflakes landed on my eyelashes and Charity’s.

  “I’m so scared that I let the silence speak for me,” I whispered.

  “Well, you seem to have found your voice now. Use it for good. You know, the whole ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ thing.”

  “I’m not Spider-Man.” I laughed.

  “You’ve survived more than anyone I know, then gotten on your feet and started going again. That makes you a hero in my book.”

  “You’ve raised a daughter on your own. That makes you mine.”

  She grinned and shrugged. “I just learned how to tell people no. Something tells me you did, too. Now, go back up the mountain before this gets any worse. The last thing you want is to call Dad to come rescue you if you get stuck. You’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Truth.” We gave each other another squeeze, then piled into our separate cars.

  Icy air blasted as I started the engine, and I quickly turned down the vents. After Charity pulled out of the drive, I did the same, following her for a couple hundred yards. The snow fell in thick curtains, working my wiper blades overtime. Visibility was pure crap.

  I turned up the road that led to my little outpost, then paused to put my car into four-wheel drive. Spring snow was nothing to mess with. It was heavy, wet, and slick. Great for snowballs and forts but horrible for driving.

  My car groaned as we made it up the first ridgeline, skimming the edge of Cam’s property at the hot springs. My toes tingled, reminding me that there was nothing hot about this ride. I slammed the heat to full now that the engine was good and warm and adjusted my defrost. I’d grown up on this mountain, and while this was definitely one of my more challenging drives home, it wasn’t the worst.

  Judah & the Lion came through my stereo, and I turned the volume down as I peaked, knowing that the downhill could be just as challenging with the already packed snow under this mess.

  I took it slowly, maintaining traction.

  “Shit!” I yelped as a doe ran out in front of me, followed by three of her friends. Fighting the instinct to slam the brakes, I pumped quickly and swerved at the last minute to avoid the fifth deer. Darn straggler.

  My back end came around, sending me down the path sideways.

  “A little help here,” I shouted to whoever might be listening, using every skill I had to get myself out of the slide.

  I slid right off the road, and the side of the mountain suddenly felt much more death trap and much less home. If I slid much farther, I’d fall a good three hundred feet and end up in Dad’s backyard.

  The tires gripped for a millisecond, and I took advantage, pulling the wheel hard, only to hit a set of boulders even harder.

  The impact jerked my entire body, but it was pretty anticlimactic as far as car accidents went.

  “Fantastic.” I let my head fall against the headrest for a second, hoping the adrenaline would cycle out and calm my racing heart.

  The headlights shone but only tracked the snow as it streaked from the sky. If I hadn’t known the terrain, I’d have no clue if I were in the field or on the edge of the drop-off before the switchbacks that led to the Rose Rowan Mine.

  I put the car into reverse and went nowhere, so I stopped before I spun myself even deeper.

  My cell phone had 70 percent battery, and my tank was half full, so at least I had that going for me. It took me a few minutes to get the canvas tow straps I kept in the back seat looped around my waist at one end and tied to my seat at the other. Once I was tethered to the car, I grabbed the bag Dad had preached about carrying since I was little and put on a thick winter hat and spare gloves.

  “Seriously, is this karma for sticking up for your brother?” I asked Sullivan. Naturally, he didn’t respond. I wasn’t nuts.

  I mentally prepared myself for this to suck, zipped my coat to my chin, then got out of the car, carrying the bulk of the strap with me and quickly shutting my door to keep the snow out. It was deeper up here, coming almost to the top of my boot.

  My very thin, not-snow-friendly boot.

  Ignoring the biting cold, I crouched and used my cell phone as a flashlight to inspect the damage.

  The front left had taken the impact, leaving me with a flat tire and a busted rim. I cursed softly. Without the snow, it would have been a hell of a spot to change a flat, but with the snow, it was impossible.

  I was so freaking screwed.

  Keeping one hand on the car, I walked toward the back. I was close to the drop-off. Another twenty feet and I would have seen Sullivan way sooner than I’d planned on.

  I checked to make sure the tailpipe was clear and dug out a space underneath it to keep snow from overtaking it. Then I opened the hatch and retrieved the snow boots I’d left there after taking Rosie sledding last week. I got back into the car and gritted my teeth against the pain that assaulted my feet as heat returned to my toes.

  There were not enough swear words in the English language for this moment.

  I could call Dad.

  He’d be pissed, but he’d come.

  As long as the deer didn’t ambush him, he’d probably make it. But the snow was deep and only coming faster.

  There was no way I was risking Charity up here or asking Pat to leave Thea and Jacob.

  I opened the contacts on my phone and scrolled slowly, then paused.

  Call him.

  I balked at my own inner voice.

  “He probably changed his number a dozen times over the years,” I muttered. Okay, maybe I was going a little nuts if I was responding to myself.

  I tapped his name before I could second-guess myself and prepared to hear the ear-blistering disconnected announcement.

  “Willow?” Cam answered.

  “Cam.” I sagged in my seat as relief hit me smack in the chest.

  “What’s going on?”

 
; I could almost see his puckered brow from here, that concerned look he got when things went wrong.

  “I seem to have gotten myself in a little situation,” I said as the wipers slowed. The snow was getting too heavy for them.

  “Of course you did. Where are you?”

  I cringed but forged ahead, because I didn’t want to end up as the headline tomorrow.

  “I got into an accident. Right after the first ridge. You know, where it curves instead of going to the springs? Right before the Rose Rowan turn?”

  “Send me a GPS pin. I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Camden

  I was going to throttle her. As soon as I found her.

  This storm wasn’t playing around.

  I paused at the ridgeline between our properties and checked the pin she’d sent me with her location against my own. Dropping another fifty feet of elevation should bring her into visibility.

  What the hell was she doing out in this? Okay, granted, the weatherman screwed up and said the storm was passing to the north of us, but then again, by saying we weren’t getting snow, they had a 50 percent shot at being right. Snow was accumulating fast, and even the Cat wasn’t going to be a sure thing pretty soon.

  “Just let her be okay,” I begged. I hadn’t asked if she was injured because it wouldn’t have made a difference. I could only get there as fast as possible, and I was already doing that.

  I zipped my phone into my pocket and turned the snowmobile down the ridge, giving the Cat some throttle. It was a damn good thing I knew this land like the back of my hand, because visibility was shit, and what I could see hid the dips and rises that could get me into some major trouble.

  Not that we weren’t already in trouble.

  I passed the grouping of pines that marked where the road turned, and a pair of streaming headlights came into view.

  “Thank you,” I whispered into the gator that covered my mouth, then carefully made my way down the slope.

  Damn, she was close to the cliff. I blocked out everything that could have happened and focused on what did as I left the engine to idle and climbed off.