We both spun around to see an older woman with graying blond hair and blue eyes . . . eyes exactly like Hush’s. And like Hush, one of them was ringed with a bruise.
“Hey, Mrs. Moreau,” I greeted. She spared me a glance, but her eyes only wanted Hush. I felt my brother tense, and I knew what he was seeing. He was seeing his mother, as she would have been when she was older. Mrs. Moreau came into the room. Her walk was laborious, the result of her stroke years ago. Her mouth on one side tilted slightly down. But that didn’t stop her from getting to her grandson.
Hush’s hand, still holding the gun, shook. Slowly, he lowered it. Just as he did so, Mrs. Moreau’s hand moved to her mouth and a weak sob escaped from her throat. She stopped at Hush’s feet, looking up at him. She was a small woman; he towered over her. Tears tracked down her cheeks. By Hush’s reaction, I didn’t think he was far from breaking down himself.
“Valan?” she whispered, her Swedish tongue effortlessly wrapping around the name.
Hush’s mouth parted. He nodded. I looked at her bare arm and saw bruise after faded bruise. Looked like Moreau was even more of a cunt than we knew.
Mrs. Moreau’s hand fell from her mouth and moved to Hush’s cheek. Her hand trembled, as did her voice when she said, “You look just like her.” Her fingers walked to the side of his bruised eye. She didn’t even mention that my friend was battered and bruised. All she could see was Hush, and through him, her daughter.
“He took her from me,” she whispered, her voice cutting out. “He never told me whether you were alive or dead.” Her eyes squeezed shut. When they opened, she said, “I never cared.” Hush’s gaze widened. “I didn’t care who she married . . . I just wanted her to be happy.” She sobbed and turned away. When she’d got her shit together, she said, “And I never got to meet my lovely grandson.” She smiled, her hand still on Hush’s face, like she couldn’t take it away.
Hush was as still as a statue, until he lifted his hand and gently held her wrist. “Nice to meet you . . . Mormor.”
Mrs. Moreau fell apart on hearing those words and wrapped her arms around Hush. She looked tiny clinging to Hush’s waist. Hush’s eyes closed, then he hugged her back. His cheeks twitched, his lips tightened . . . then I saw a tear fall down his cheek. He held her tighter, and I could see he was struggling not to break down completely.
I moved to stand by the wall, keeping eyes on any movement from the house. I only looked back when Mrs. Moreau said, “I knew you’d come back one day. It was fate. One cannot do something so heinous and not have it come back on them.” I got the impression she was talking about more than the fire. She looked at her husband, and an ice-cold expression came over her face. “But you must go.” She ran her hand down Hush’s face. “An intruder came in, trying to get into our safe.” She righted her hair. “I was upstairs when he shot him. I was hiding, then came down to find him here, dead.”
Hush took a few shaky breaths, then nodded his approval. “We’d better go,” I urged. Hush couldn’t take his eyes off his grandmother. He was locked in the moment. “Val?”
He finally looked at me and nodded. As he moved past his grandmother, she said, “When all of this has blown over . . . I would very much like to see you.”
Hush stopped dead, took a deep breath, then turned around. “I’d like that.” My chest fucking cracked for him.
“And you must come back and see your mother,” she said. Hush stilled. More tears spilled from Mrs. Moreau’s eyes. “She’s in our garden.” Hush nodded, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to speak, knowing he was walking on the same ground as his mamma. As if that wasn’t enough for the brother to hear, she said, “And I will also take you to see your father.”
Hush turned slowly. “What?” he whispered in disbelief.
His grandmother stepped toward him. “He never knew,” she said confidently, gesturing to Moreau slumped on the desk. “But I paid the coroner behind his back. I had some savings he never knew about.” She smiled a sad smile. “I was saving in secret to go back to Sweden . . . hoping to find Aia, your father, and you first and take you all with me. To start a new life away from him. But . . .” She trailed off. We all knew the end. “When his remains were recovered, and my husband refused to give him a grave, I paid for one in secret.” Her breathing hitched and her voice grew hoarse. “I knew my daughter, and I knew she loved that man more than life itself. They should have been laid to rest together, but I couldn’t . . . he would’ve . . .”
Her head dropped, no doubt in shame, but Hush was across the room in no time, hugging the old woman to his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered, then said something to her in Swedish I didn’t understand. Mrs. Moreau sobbed and held her grandson close. “I am so sorry, Valan,” she cried. “I am so sorry he did what he did. I miss my girl . . . I miss her so much. Like half of my heart has been taken.” She pulled back and smiled a weak smile. “But seeing you today . . . how much you look like her . . . has given life to my soul.” She laughed. “You are so beautiful, gullunge.”
Eventually Hush pulled away, placing a kiss on his grandmother’s forehead. She sighed. “Now go. Leave town to wherever you live now. Get far away and don’t look back. I will not let you be punished for something that was very much deserved.”
I took hold of Hush’s elbow and led him from the house. We ran, Hush looking back to see his grandmother on the porch watching us go. We got back in the truck, and I quickly pulled onto the drive. Hush watched the house and his grandmother until they both faded from view.
“You good?” I asked as we joined the road that would lead us back to Sia.
Hush released a long exhale. I’d always thought that Hush had taken a deep inhale when his parents died. I guess I didn’t realize that until now, with the heavy sigh slipping from his lips, he had never breathed out.
Hush turned to me, a road light illuminating his face. “Let’s go get our Sia.” He smiled as he sat back against the seat. He stared at the road ahead. “I wanna go home.” But then he frowned, something clearly still on his mind. “What about your folks?”
Hatred, thick and pure, ran through my blood. “They’re dead to me,” I said and saw Hush close his eyes for a brief moment. When they were open again, I gave him a wink and my trademark wide smile, tipped the front of my Stetson, and said, “Let’s get home, mon ami . . . let’s get the motherfuck home.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sia
I pulled my truck in front of Lilah and Ky’s cabin. My hands squeezed tightly on the wheel. I hadn’t spoken to my brother since Mexico. We hadn’t had a chance to talk at the Diablos’ place in Laredo, and then I came straight home with Hush and Cowboy and had been with them ever since.
I wasn’t sure if he was still pissed at me. But I needed to speak to him. After Louisiana. After seeing Hush so broken over his family, then so different . . . happy. As he told me about his grandmother, all I’d been able to think of was Ky.
He was my only family.
The door to the cabin opened. Lilah narrowed her eyes as she tried to see who was at her door. The second she saw me, a wide relieved smile pulled on her lips. Nerves swarming in my stomach, I got out of the truck. “Hey girl,” I said and waved. I walked to the cabin, immediately hearing the other old ladies inside. Lilah pulled me to her harder than ever before.
“Hey,” I said softly and kissed her cheek. “I’m okay.” Lilah drew back her head and looked me over. Then she turned me around, and my heart started slamming against my ribs. I closed my eyes, bracing myself. I had worn a low-backed top on purpose. I wouldn’t be ashamed of my back any longer. Of the carving that, to many, was a sign of inferiority. I decided to take ownership of that shit and wear it with pride. And I wasn’t ashamed of the acid burns. It was time to embrace them as being a fucking part of me.
“I am very proud of you,” Lilah whispered. I turned and saw the scar on her face. The one that had given her a sense of peace only she could truly understand.
“Thank you.”
I took Lilah’s outstretched hand, and she led me into the house.
I rounded the corner and saw her sisters and Beauty and Letti. I waved again. “Sia!” Old lady after old lady came up to me, hugging me. I hugged them back, a huge lump in my throat. I sat down and observed these women. All different, from different walks of life, all sweet. It was funny; I’d always wanted to stay away from this club, firmly believing it to be a toxic hedonistic hell. But with these women, or at home with Hush and Cowboy—in our bed, doing fucking mundane tasks like cooking, riding—I realized I’d just been plain wrong.
Like I’d overheard Crow say when I was listening from the motel bathroom in Louisiana, it was a family. One I had missed, been denied.
No matter what Ky said, I wouldn’t let that shit happen anymore.