“Oh God,” Fox said in a broken whisper.
“She wasn’t always like that. She would have long periods where she seemed quite normal. The mother we all grew up knowing, but then some switch would be flipped in her brain and she’d try to kill us all. It seemed worse when Aiden was around, so he was forced to leave us, keep a distance to protect us.”
“And he loved her?”
Something inside of Winter always broke when he thought of Aiden and his devotion to Julianna. “With his entire being. They had less than two years together, but he’s kept his promise. He’s always stayed close and watched over her children.”
Fox swallowed hard and shook his head. There was a sheen of tears in Fox’s eyes, and Winter could breathe a little easier. He didn’t want to cause Fox any grief, but he was touched by this man’s compassion and empathy.
“I didn’t see her for the first few years. Only Marcus. He was strong enough. And then Rafe and Bel helped him. I asked him to let me help, let me see her. He handed me my flute and said I could see her when I could play perfectly.”
Gasping, Fox bolted upright on the bed, looking as if he were about to march out of the loft and straight to his brother’s so he could rip his heart out with his bare hands. Winter was already shaking his head.
“He was protecting me. Music was the only thing that could reach her when she was in a dark mood. She calmed and became more like herself.”
Fox settled back on the bed, their shoulders brushing while Fox took Winter’s hand in both of his. He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe for a few seconds. “Winter…one of the guitars downstairs on the wall. It has blood on it.”
“It’s Rafe’s. From about ten years ago.” He stopped and tried to place the memory in the long timeline of his life. He huffed in surprise. “Maybe longer now. It was a bad night. I didn’t wash the blood off because I felt I needed the reminder that she was not my mom. She was just a creature in her body, and she was trying to kill us.”
“Do you hate her?”
A harsh bark of laughter jumped from Winter’s throat and once the laughter started, he couldn’t get it to stop. Fox was a fucking witch. He saw the one thing that no one ever had. The laughter kept coming until it fractured into an ugly sob. Fox pulled him in tight, and the sobs kept coming no matter how hard he tried to stop them.
“Yes! I hate her. I fucking hate her! I hate her so much!” he screamed between gasps. “They loved her, and she tried to kill them.”
It was like something had finally broken free inside of him, and he couldn’t pull all the painful emotions. He cried for the mother he was denied when his brothers were lucky enough to have more years with her. He cried for his brothers, who’d bled for that woman. He cried for the ugly, jealous guilt and hate that had lived inside of him for so many long years.
Winter didn’t know how much time passed or how long he cried in Fox’s arms. The man just kept holding him tight, one hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion, as if that touch helped to push out all the old anger and pain. Winter clung to him like a man clutching to his raft in the middle of a storm, waves of emotions battering him on all sides.
But the storm passed, and Fox’s arms were still there. Winter felt lighter than he’d ever felt before. All the old emotions hadn’t been completely purged, but they were smaller, tainting less of him now.
“I barely remember her, but my brothers do. They loved her. They were willing to give up their lives for her,” Winter said, his voice raw and ragged from crying.
“But you love your brothers. You were willing to give up your life to keep them safe,” Fox murmured in his ear.
Winter could only nod. He couldn’t talk to his brothers about his anger toward Julianna. He couldn’t even discuss it with Aiden. They all loved the woman so much, but he struggled. The good times were so much harder to remember when there had been so many years of blood and pain and fear.
Very slowly, Winter loosened his stranglehold on Fox, but the man didn’t let him go far. Fox turned sideways in the bed so that he was looking straight at Winter while he settled back against the pillows.
“Do you remember anything good from being a kid?”
Winter closed his sore eyes. His mind temporarily shied away from digging around in those old memories, but a few started to poke their heads up. “Her singing. She had the most beautiful voice. She’d make up silly songs to make me laugh. She’d play games with us. She always tried to tuck us in each night, even if she had a party to attend.”