Page 110 of Cruel Destinies

She smiled and nodded. “Of course. I knew that...it’s just different in person.” Then she laughed. That bell-ringing, heart-swelling laugh that had grown so precious to me. “You know what I mean.”

It was only then that I noticed her attire.

“You’re not...leaving, are you?” Panic flared in my chest at seeing her donned in her winter clothing, complete with gloves and a hat.

Her cheeks flushed as she swiftly unwrapped the scarf and shrugged off her coat.

“There’s snow!” she protested with another laugh and waved a still-gloved hand at the very real-looking fake snow. “What is it, anyway?”

“I dunno,” I said, a little embarrassed that Ididn’tknow. “Another of Mr. Inari’s creations, I’m sure.”

“Well, he should sell it on eBay or something. He’d make a fortune!”

That comment, so mundane and yet soArya, made me throw my head back in a booming laugh. “And he’d probably be offended that you even suggested it.”

She shrugged like she might suggest it anyway. But when she looked over my shoulder, glistening tears formed in her eyes. Tearing away from me, she took a few steps toward the grand, ten-foot evergreen decorated elegantly with expensive red andgreen balls—I knew the price tag because they were donated by my mother—LED lights, bells, tinsel and hundreds of tiny, intricately carved and hand-painted figurines.

Arya tentatively stepped toward the tree until she was within arms-length, then reached a hand out and gently touched a small silver bell with a red bow tying it to a low branch.

“We had these,” she said softly.

“Hmm?”

“We had these on our tree at home,” she clarified. “My mom and I.”

“Ah.” That was enough for me to walk up behind her and wrap both arms around her. I rested my chin on the top of her fruity-shampoo-scented, silky hair.

She leaned into me, her hand still cradling the bell, the other reaching up to grip my arm.

“I’m sure this one doesn’t even make it in your top five, but this is definitelymyfavorite Christmas to date,” I said softly into her hair.

She twisted in my arms until our noses met, resting her arms and hands against my chest. “But you’re stuck here. Don’t you miss your family?”

To Arya, it probably felt like an innocent and straightforward question. If my family was anything like Arya’s mother surely was, it would have been. But I also didn’t want to discount the fact that my family was alive while hers was either dead or unknown.

I pushed back a few inches so I could see her face.

“I miss my mom,” I said truthfully. “And my sister, Tamara, but she hasn’t come home for Christmas since she graduated from the academy, anyway.”

“But not your father?”

I dropped my arms, releasing her. “I respect my father in a lot of ways. But it’s hard to miss your warden once you’re finally free. Besides, Christmas was always an afterthought to him.”

She frowned, her blue eyes swimming with sympathetic understanding. “He still, like, bought you gifts and stuff, right?”

Yeah, like tutoring sessions at age six to push me to shift early, which was my present through age eleven. “Probably only when my mom nagged him about it. After a while, she just took over all of the shopping.”

She twisted her pouty lips. “Does he at least buy gifts for her?”

Bitterness and resentment stabbed at my chest. “He always gets her the same thing for every holiday—cheap perfume and a bouquet of roses. She’s allergic to roses.”

Her brow furrowed, either from my words or the anger in my tone, I wasn’t sure. “Damn. I was hoping what I’d seen on the Real Shifter Housewives was just dramatized for ratings.”

I scoffed and hung my head. “Oh no, you’ve watched that show?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” She grimaced and offered a shrug of apology. “Do you think he ever loved her?”

“He can’t,” I ground out, my fists clenching with hatred for my father over that fact.

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