Page 10 of The Golden Hour

“Please be home,” I mutter as I knock on the white door.

A few moments later, the door swings open on my aunt. Though it’s been eight years since I last saw her, time has barely touched her. Tall and sturdy, she has crazy brown curls and big blue eyes with only the faintest of lines around them. Her mouth drops open at the sight of me.

“Finnegan McCowen, what the holy hell are you doing here?”

A tired smile tugs my lips. “Nice to see you too, Aunt Molly. Can I come in?”

She glances over her shoulder, then darts onto the porch and pulls the door closed. “No, actually. I have company.”

“Ahh.” I smirk. “Good for you.”

“Not that kind of company, you dolt.” She grabs my arm and drags me to the bench beside the door, shoving me down. Exactly like I’m five years old again and about to be put in a time-out.

“You do know I’m an adult now, right?” I mutter.

She settles beside me, angled toward me so she can scan my tired features like an X-ray machine. “You look grown, but not like an adult. Adults don’t avoid their families for a decade.”

“Christ.” I drop my head into my hands. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Oh, don’t pout.” She gives my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here. You look like shit, though.”

I heave a self-deprecating laugh. “Thanks. I feel like shit.” Steeling myself, I meet her gaze. “I need your help.”

Before the sentence is out, Molly’s shaking her head. “Nuh-uh. I’m not mediating between you and your mother. That’s your business.”

My bubbling frustration boils over. “Please, Aunt Mol. This isn’t a game, or some family squabble. If we don’t stop them now—”

“I’m sorry, Finn,” she interjects gravely. “I know you’ve suffered at the hands of the Avellinos, but Meredith suffered, too. She lost your father, too. I had a front-row seat to the heartbreak almost killing her. It was for you—you and your sisters—that she let go of the hate and chose forgiveness. You can’t ask her to hate again.”

The words burn, swallowed by the dark fury I’ve carried since I was eleven and watched my father’s casket being lowered into the earth.

“He didn’t even serve the whole sentence,” I say, my gaze unfocused on the small, lovingly tended front yard.

“He’s dead,” my aunt says simply. “I’d say justice still found him.”

My fingers curl into fists. I don’t look at her, afraid the venom inside me will spill out, that she’ll never look at me the same way after knowing what lives inside me.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t want to see Vivian Avellino become the fucking Governor of California? She announced last week. It’s all over the news!”

“No, you’re not.” The soft, wavering voice comes from behind Molly, where the front door stands open.

Callisto steps onto the porch, hugging a thick sweater over her chest. The glasses are gone. Her hair is in a messy topknot, her face clean of makeup. Dark shadows ring her eyes. A shaft of sunlight finds her face, and gold flares in her irises.

I’m on my feet before my brain fully processes the movement. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Sit down,” snaps my aunt. “If you can’t behave yourself, Finnegan, you can leave. Calli is my guest.”

My rage funnels to a savage point, directed at my aunt. “You know who she is? You’ve been harboring her? For how long?”

Molly’s eyes narrow. “I’m not harboring anyone. She isn’t a criminal. Quite the opposite.”

“Bullshit,” I snarl, slicing my gaze to Callisto. “What about your high school boyfriend? David Whoever? I wonder if he’d counter your statement.”

The gold in her eyes dims. I feel a pinch in the vicinity of my conscience, right before I realize she isn’t hurt. She’s furious.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she seethes, her breath short, chest rising and falling in swift rhythm and momentarily distracting me. “Like I said last night—”

“Last night?” asks Molly, but Callisto’s on a roll and doesn’t hear her.

---