I push at it with the toe of my boot, the creak on the hinge loud enough to announce me. Not much bigger than a closet, she sees me the moment I enter, her soft, malicious laughter the first thing to greet me.
Chapter Sixteen
Camryn
“Dad!” I yell, moving through the front door and throwing my keys on the entryway table.
Brightly colored peonies fill the large vase on the table; pinks and purples, sunshine yellows and white, mahogany even. I step closer, dropping my face to inhale their scent. Intoxicating variations of citrus and spice, the delicate touch of a sweetness I can’t quite put my finger on dancing along my nostrils and making me smile.
“Stopping to smell the flowers. That’s a Camryn I haven’t seen in a long time.” My dad watches me from the entryway to our living room, his shoulder pressed lazily against the doorway. A fond smile greets me, as it always does, the love and affection in his face unmistakable.
I’ve always found it odd that people fear this man. My father. The man who taught me how to ride a bike. The man who searched for monsters under my bed to ensure I slept peacefully. To the outside world he’s formidable; a fierce and unrelenting leader. People cower under his demand. But at home, he’s just dad. A man I could never find it in myself to fear. The one parental figure I’ve always known I could count on. A man that loved me without condition.
“How very Codi of me,” I tease.
“On the contrary.” He lets me kiss his cheek, squeezing my waist in affection. “You were always the one who needed to smell every flower we wandered past. Codi only fell into the habit of idolizing her sister, as younger siblings do.”
I force a smile, refusing to let myself dwell on the sadness I search for in my father’s tone. His inadvertent reminder of how he misses the Camryn I used to be. He may love me without condition, but I’ve disappointed him. Whether he admits it to himself or not. He no longer understands me, this flawed version of the daughter he once knew.
I walk into his office without invitation, dropping onto his leather sectional on a loud sigh. “Where is everyone?”
“Around,” he offers loosely. “On assignment.”
“On assignment,” I bark out sarcastically. “Does that include our favorite psychotic Shay brother?”
“Being unkind for the purpose of being unkind is unbecoming, sweetheart,” he admonishes, eyeing me with reproach. “Yes, Rocco is on assignment for me.”
I pause my fidgeting, eyes slicing toward him in expectation.
Read: I’ve found your mother and I’ve sent the most unstable man I know to collect her.
I feel flooded by my own emotions, drowned by so many, I can’t tell them apart.
“Does Parker know his brother is working for you?” I scold.
“Does Codi know you’re spending time with Rocco?” he rebukes.
That makes me laugh. “You should really stop having me followed.”
“Do you really mind?”
I tip my bottom lip out in indifference. “No. Not particularly.”
“I wish you would stop calling the police, it causes an unnecessary amount of paperwork for me.”
He’s smiling, no anger in the way he chides me, just an exasperation at my childish games.
“Just trying to keep them on their toes. They should really learn to be more inconspicuous.”
“Hm,” he comments, checking the caller ID on his cell before silencing it.
“Rocco is teaching me to fight,” I offer. An explanation for my newfound friendship, not caring for him to read into something that isn’t there. “I was supposed to be there now, but he canceled. For you.” An accusation, one he takes comfortably.
“You can reschedule.”
I nod unenthusiastically. “Thought I’d see if you wanted to have lunch. Codi’s working.”
“Well.” He laughs. “With an invitation like that, how could I say no?”
I throw a cushion his way. “Not what I meant. You busy? There is a new Gyoza place in town, I’ve been wanting to check it out.”
His face lights up with an expected joy. “Never busy enough to stop me sharing a meal with my daughter. Let me make a phone call and then we’ll go.”
He expects me to leave, to offer him the privacy I’ve always given him when he works. But I don’t. I’m done hiding behind my own self-inflicted ignorance. This involves my mother, the woman who despises me more than any other human being on this planet for the greatest imposition of being born.
Accepting my newfound rebellion, my father has his phone against his ear. “Do you have an update?”
He listens carefully.
“Follow him in.”
The voice on the other end raises slightly, the muffled masculine tone drifting through the room.
“I don’t care if he throws an adult-sized tantrum. I don’t trust her. We’ve experienced enough unnecessary deaths by the hand of Marcus and Sarah, let’s not add any more.”
My body goes cold. My veins freezing over in dread at the thought of another death. Blood coating yet another floor, staining the world with the loss of another undeserving soul.
I should be ashamed that it isn’t my flesh and blood, my own mother that I’m concerned about. But I’m not. Possibly a little shocked at the intensity behind the feeling, but my fear is for Rocco and Rocco alone. The sheer thought of him leaving this earth hitting me heavier than I would ever care for it to.
“Ready?” He taps my knee.
“Who did you send with him? With Rocco?”
“He’s fine, Ryn.” He reads my concern easily, his features warming in understanding. “Tivoli is with him.”
“Parker and Codi will never forgive you if… if…” I stumble over what I’m trying to say.
He watches me carefully. “Parker and Codi or you?”
I stand, feigning a look of annoyance. “Wouldn’t cost me sleep at night,” I beguile, lifting my head in a false nonchalance that he sees straight through.
I walk from the room before he can call me out on my lie. “You can drive,” I tell him. “I did an overnight, status update, shattered.”
* * *
The small restaurant, aptly titled ‘Gyoza’ is bustling; small clusters of people pushed into the space comfortably. Conversation buzzes through the room; laughter and soft hushed tones a melody to the open layout of the loud kitchen.
Dad and I settle into a modest table toward the back, locked away in our very own cone of silence. Hidden from the bustle, I feel unfavorably exposed. Like with a simple look, my father could look into me and discover every dirty secret I have hidden in the darkest parts of my soul.
The waiter, barely giving us time to settle, approaches, ready to take our order.
Asshole. Give a girl a second to drool over the menu.
Before I can send him away, my dad nods, picking up the menu to peruse. I remain quiet while he orders, nodding along with his suggestions as he looks to me for confirmation.
“And Sake, please,” I add. “Times two.”
Drinks settled in front of us, I watch my dad lift his to his lips, sipping slowly.
We used to do this often when I was younger; when I was more of who he remembers and less of who he sees now. We’d escape the sunshine of Codi or the storm of my mother, hiding in plain sight at new restaurants and hole-in-the-wall cafes. Just the two of us caught up in ourselves. We’d share a meal, more often than not the food going cold as we talked for hours, too caught up in the topic at hand to remember to eat. Even at my youngest, our conversations were never surface, they never involved small talk. There was always depth. Philosophical discussions that tested our individual thoughts.
The meaning of life.
The injustices of the world.
Whether fate is real? And if so, does that remove our right to free will.
Will humans a species become extinct and if so, when?
We’d argue, we’d agree, we’d happily remain indifferent if we couldn’t find mutual ground. It was e
xciting. It was eye-opening. I felt challenged in the best possible ways, and I know he felt the same way.
Then it stopped.
I couldn’t tell you if that was through a fault of mine or his. Maybe it was us both. I returned from college, lost and broken and I couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting across from my dad discussing the world’s problems. I was too caught up in my own. He was likely scared of who college turned me into, clutching onto his memories of who we used to be rather than making damaged new ones.
I just know through it all, I hated him a little. He was my dad. Wasn’t he supposed to push past those barriers? Wasn’t he supposed to look into my eyes and just know? Or maybe he just didn’t care, maybe his love wasn’t as absolute as I believed it to be. Childish thoughts I’ve never been able to rid myself of.
“You found her,” I announce abruptly. “You found my mother. That’s where Rocco is, hunting Sarah.”
He coughs, the dryness of his Sake catching on his surprise at my forwardness.
“Yes.”
I appreciate his honesty, but it’s not as if he could deny it. I heard his phone conversation. Lying would only create a greater divide between us, one neither of us can afford.
“Why Rocco? Why send him?”
Placing his glass back on the table, he watches me with a depth that should make me shift in my seat. Dark eyebrows pulled together, he pulls at his shirt cuffs before laying his arms along his crossed legs.
He’s always so composed. I’ve never seen him lose his temper or break down. He’s impossible to read. Not unfeeling by any stretch, but someone who is rock solid in their ability to control their emotions. I envy and hate him all at once for that.
“Why not Rocco?”
“You trust him?” I question forcefully.
“You don’t?”
“Depends on the matter in which trust is required,” I murmur. “I guess I’d say he’s honest, in the limited interactions I’ve had with him. But do I trust that he won’t kill my mother? No.”
“Camryn, trust isn’t yielding. It’s absolute or it’s not there,” he scolds. “You can’t place your faith in someone only to take away without justification, giving it back only when it fits your plan. If you’re balancing your trust like that, you’re expecting a person to live to only your expectations.”
My confusion is painted openly on my face.
“What about their expectations?” he continues. “Rocco has assured me he won’t kill Sarah, that’s the expectation he’s set with me, so, yes, I trust him to follow through. If he had found her without me and we hadn’t discussed the situation I wouldn’t trust him not to kill her, but that’s because there wouldn’t have been any joint expectations set.”
I frown at his words, digging deep within myself to find my own belief in his.
“What about relationships?” I ask. “You fall in and love and the expectation is that you trust one another.”
He leans in closer. “Of course, but having fallen in love, you’ve spoken about what is important to you, about how you are. If you’re in a relationship with a man who tells you he wants to sleep with other women, do you trust him not to cheat?”
“No.”
“Exactly, because your expectations aren’t aligned. However, if you’re with a man who tells you that you’re his everything. That he wants you and only you, do you trust him not to cheat?”
I dip my chin in confirmation.
“My point. Your expectation is aligned with his, it’s out on the table.”
I consider his words as our food is delivered, leaving my dad to thank the waiter.
“Does it bother you?” he asks after the waiter has disappeared. “The potential death of your mother?”
“I guess it should.” I pick up a pork dumpling and shove it in my mouth with little finesse.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I chew my food. “Does it make me evil to say no?” I whisper, embarrassed to admit it out loud.
“No,” he answers without pause.
“How can you be sure?”
Dropping his chopsticks carefully to his plate, he reaches for my hand. “Do you wish her dead? Or do you just have no intense feelings about her dying?”
“I feel she deserves to be punished but if she was standing in front of me, would I kill her? No.” I shake my head. “Something inside of me tells me that we should be bothered by death and that goes directly against my lack of concern about my mother’s welfare.”
“Camryn,” he sighs. “We shouldn’t be forced to think in any particular way. You’ll find yourself constantly at war with yourself if that’s how you live your life. Your mind is yours just as mine is mine. We all have ill thoughts pass through us throughout our lives. Death is a given, being bothered by it will only make you scared of it and that’s no way to live.”
“I tell myself that there is enough evil in the world, I don’t need to add to it with thoughts of harm and retribution.”
“Drink. Eat,” my father encourages, doing the same. “I look at it in a different way,” he offers on a finished mouthful. “I’ve felt hate for myself, for others, I’ve also had it aimed my way. I lived with it for as long as your mother remained in my home. I’ve experienced great sadness at times and I’ve felt loss. But because I’ve felt all that, because I’ve lived through all the horrible emotions we attempt to ignore; I know what true happiness is, I know what real love feels like. The negative facets of life, both external,” he gestures around us, “and internal,” he points to his heart, “just let us appreciate the good in life. It’s all a balance, sweetheart. The sooner we all realize that, the more settled we’ll all be.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I combat. “About us being bothered by death.”
He watches me silently for a beat before shrugging. “We’re all wired differently, Camryn. Things that may sit on your conscience, likely won’t sit on mine. Who is to say who is right?”
“But we know what actions are fundamentally wrong as human beings. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if general fucking common sense prevailed? Don’t kill anyone. Don’t cheat, don’t steal, blah fucking blah. Shouldn’t we stick to that?” I argue.
“Maybe,” he concedes. “But the world isn’t that simple. Where is your moral compass?” he tests. “Is it aligned with mine? With Rocco’s? What about Codi’s?”
I don’t speak, too engrossed in his thought process to even mumble a syllable.
“Codi believes in second chances, in giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Rocco, on the other hand, believes in retribution. He believes in people paying for their sins, himself included. If you wrong an innocent, you pay with blood. I imagine you’d sit somewhere in between,” he shrugs, not waiting for me to confirm or deny his belief. “I don’t think any of you are necessarily wrong or right. We’re different, and that is where the world will always sit, Camryn, whether that makes sense to you or not.”
I sit back in my seat, letting everything he said settle within me.
“I enjoy talking to you,” I tell him quietly. “We don’t do it enough anymore.”
Sadness brushes through his eyes, dropping along his features as he blinks. “I lost you some time ago, beautiful. I don’t know why, but I wish you’d talk to me about it. I gave in to your wish and left you to find yourself. But it backfired on me, in the end, I feel as though you not only didn’t find yourself, you lost who you were.”
I drain my glass of Sake. “I just don’t know who I am anymore.” Not a lie, but also not the complete truth. “I haven’t for a long time. Everything I thought I knew seems lost.”
“Why do you have to decide who you are?”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re remembering you were, thinking that’s who you should be. Am I right?”
I shrug and nod at the same time.
“Why can’t you just be who you are? Life changes us all, Ryn. Stop looking backward. If your focus i
s behind you, you’ll find yourself tripping into your future, bruised and broken.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rocco
“Always thought Dominic would be the first to find me. Connected asshole that he is.”
I don’t answer, letting her believe what she will. That I’m alone, working without the help of her husband’s connections.
“What I don’t understand.” She edges away from me, feigning fear as she moves against the wall and closer to the single window in the airless dump she’s now calling home. It’d be humorous if it wasn’t so idiotic, moving toward a window she can’t escape from, pinning herself against a wall. “Is why you care if I live or die. What have I ever done to you?”
I scowl, taking two steps into the shithole she’s settled into. What a fucking fall from grace. Living in the warm contentment of the Rein mansion, only to find herself in this fucking squalor, begging for fucks from a teenager and scoring drugs off kids younger than her own.
“Are you following your father’s lead, relighting the Rein versus Shay vendetta? Killing me ain’t gonna pay you any dues.”
“Stop talking.”
Her feet falter at the stone in my voice. Her act of innocence wearing away with every second I’m forced to stand in her company.
“You had to know,” I threaten, letting my eyes drift over the ripped couch and stained carpet. “That your lies, your sins would come back to fuck you in the ass. That they’d make you bleed.” I kick at the trash by my feet, letting myself move closer.
Her feet stop, her fearful act dropping away altogether, the real Sarah Rein showing her face; horns and all.
“How did you find me?” she asks curiously, her head tipping to the side in contemplation. “You’ve been searching for that junkie ex-girlfriend of yours for years without success.” Her eyes widen in mockery, the malice in her irises spiking like wildfire.
I step forward in warning, unable to hide the shock on my face at the mention of Kendall.
“Oh, you didn’t think I knew about her,” she jibes, thoroughly enjoying herself. “I know a lot of things about you, Rocco Shay. Things that that last remaining little family member of yours doesn’t even know,” she sneers, a poisonous smile tracking over her red lips. “You have a thing for the broken ones, maybe it makes you feel like less of a fuck up. First, that street whore and now my defective daughter.”
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