Page 24 of Thorns of Desire
“I know,” I murmured, quickly pushing the dark thoughts away. I couldn’t think about those now. Or ever, especially not with my mother.
“Expectations were put on my sister. She was too scared to go against them, so she married Lykos Costello, and it cost her everything, including her sanity.”
I startled, shooting her a surprised look. “You rarely talk about your sister.”
She shrugged. “I was much younger than her and we weren’t alike. She was shy, religious, and so reserved.” My mother was definitely nothing like that. “I thought she’d turn into a nun. She didn’t. She married a Greek mobster and went crazy.”
My mouth dropped. “Mom… what are you saying? Is she alive?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know.” A shadow passed her expression. “I heard she was committed to a psych ward, but then there are other stories that claim she died.”
“Didn’t you call her husband?” I asked, bewildered. “Your brother-in-law.”
She shot me a baffled look. “Why would I? They cut ties with me, not the other way around.”
I shook my head, perplexed. “What happened that made your only sister, my aunt, cut ties with us?” She opened her mouth, then paused. I couldn’t understand all the secrecy. “I would think you’d want your sister in your life, Mom. After all, you two grew up together.”
“We did, but she always stole the spotlight.”
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
She sighed with exasperation. “Everyone always loved her, and whenever she was around, I was the forgotten one. Then her marriage to the head of the Greek mafia was arranged, and she became unbearable. Nobody saw her flaws the way I did.”
Something about her comment left a sour taste in my mouth. I knew my mother had been hurt badly and, in turn, had hardened herself, but her sister had nothing to do with it.
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” I pointed out. “I mean, I’m not thrilled to pretend you aren’t my mother, but I deal with it. I’m certainly not shunning you, because I love you.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I told you it’s for our safety. I only insist on it because I love you.”
“I love you too, but it’d be nice if it wasn’t just the two of us.” She blinked, staring at me with an oblivious expression, and I explained. “Your sister is your family and so is her husband, their children. They areourfamily. Don’t you think it would have been nice for me to grow up with cousins?”
She shrugged. “My sister didn’t have children until much later. The age difference between you and your cousins is too big.” I rolled my eyes. She was missing my point. “Besides, you did meet your uncle.”
My brows furrowed. “I think I’d remember meeting my uncle.”
She paled slightly, then whispered, “Athena, he came to the hospital after… after the whole burning casket… incident.”
I froze as fear crept into the corners of my mind, crushing my windpipe.ThatI remembered vividly, although I wished I didn’t. My lungs tightened. The darkness from that day morphed into nightmares I’d re-live over and over again until I had to shove them all into a vault.
I hated how those memories could render me immobile so effortlessly. I was stronger than that, dammit. I fucking was.
“I don’t remember… him.” I curled my fingers, the nails digging into my palms. I couldn’t go there now. Not ever. I didn’t want to show my mom, or anyone, how badly the events eleven years ago had fucked me up. “Aren’t you worried about your sister?”
Mom shrugged. “We haven’t been on speaking terms for decades.” I narrowed my eyes and she shook her head. “I might have… made some mistakes.”
I waited for her to elaborate. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t. In fact, I was surprised she was willing to share this much at all. Butnow that she’d opened the door, I intended to learn as much as I could about my lineage—with or without her help.
“You’re human,” I pointed out. “To be human is to make mistakes. Like I said, we all make them, so I’m sure your sister and her husband have long since forgiven you.”
She sighed. “No, something like that they wouldn’t forgive.”
“Like what?”
She paused, pressing her lips together, her eyes searching mine. Whatever she saw in them had her sighing.
“You remember how we fled back to the States when you were twelve,” she stated, abruptly changing subjects. There was a hint of fear in her voice that she was trying to tamp down, but I knew it too well. “After the attack by the Triads.”
I winced at the memory of men barging into our little apartment in the middle of the night and hurting her, leaving her with bruises and unable to breathe. The men who almost burned me alive.
