“We don’t have a choice.” Daddy’s voice was quiet. “And, Marilyn, you have to keep it together.”
“She’s going to know. As she gets older, she…”
The floor creaked under me, and Daddy whipped around. Daddy and Bruno looked a lot alike. They both had dark brown hair like Mommy. I didn’t have dark brown hair. Mine was almost black. Mommy said I looked more like my grandmother. She was an immigrant from Mexico. I didn’t know what immigrant meant, but I liked that I looked like her. I told people that whenever they asked. I looked like my grandma. I wished I’d gotten to meet her. She died before I was born.
Daddy pulled his hair out of his eyes, blinking down and looking at me. Hurriedly, he closed the door behind him, and I saw Mommy with her face in her hands.
She had been crying. She had her mouth in her hands before Daddy closed the door.
He squatted down to me.
“What are you doing, little punk?” he asked, tugging on my braid. He grinned, and I giggled. He tugged the other braid. “Playing spy on me and Mommy?”
He started to tickle me, and I couldn’t stop laughing. Daddy was always so funny. He tickled until I had tears in my eyes and was on the floor.
“Daddy, Daddy!” I laughed, squealing. “I wasn’t spying!”
“You sure?” He laughed too before tickling me again. “You know only spies get ice cream?”
“Ice cream?” I shot up, out of breath. “I’m a spy, then!”
Daddy chuckled, rubbing my head. He helped me up, then took my hand. “Come on. Let’s go see if your brother is up from his nap. I’m sure he’d like to come too.”
“Bru’s lame,” I mused, skipping down the hallway with him. “He always has to nap.”
“That’s because he’s younger than you. That doesn’t make him lame. It just means he’ll always need a little help from you since you’re his big sister.”
Picking me up, he gave me a piggyback ride. I held on real tight, but spun around when the door opened.
Mommy peeked outside the room, looking really sad. She leaned against the door, raising her hand at me. She waved, so small, and I did back.
“Can Mommy be a spy?” I asked Daddy when he took me downstairs.
Daddy gazed up at me. “Why, honey?”
He placed me down, and I shrugged. “She looks sad, and if spies get ice cream, I want her to be a spy too. Ice cream will make her happy.”
Ice cream always made me happy. Made sense.
Daddy started to say something, but then he put his hand over his mouth. He rubbed a second before taking my hand again.
“Let’s just go get Bru, huh?” He nodded. “Your mommy will be okay.”
I hoped she would. No one should be sad.
And Mommy was sad a lot.
Chapter Nine
Sloane - present
I washed my face long and hard that next morning after running into Ares, scrubbing it. I still couldn’t believe what had fucking happened.
This was hopeless.
This situation was hopeless, and once again, I found myself at the center of hate. Legacy hate.
Dorian’s hate.