Page 72 of Love Thy Brother
I twitched so hard my neck cracked. For the second time in ten minutes, River had snuck up on me. “Who?”
He held up my phone. On the screen was a photo of Liliana doodling on the one finger Cam had that remained un-inked. It was a psychedelic sprite with a beard longer than Father Christmas and a nose like Asterix. Tiny and intricate, it had no place in the bold daggers and skulls Cam had over the rest of his body, but somehow it worked. “She’s magical,” I told him honestly, before a flash in time jolted my brain. “Hang on, I’ll show you.”
I rolled from the bed and trundled downstairs, stamping into my boots by the front door.
Cam’s car keys had dried out enough overnight to activate the central locking. I folded myself into the passenger seat and dug around on the console before I remembered the glove box. Inside, I found the scrap of paper Embry had passed me before I’d left the compound, folded in half.
I took it back indoors.
River was at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide and panicked. “Where did you go?”
“To the car.”
“Why?”
“To get this.” I held the paper out. “Hey, what’s the matter?”
“Don’t leave.”
“I didn’t. Iwon’t, I promise.”
I reached for him, but he evaded and opened the kitchen door. The lights on the extractor fan were still on, casting the space in a warm glow that matched the heat pumping from the radiators. River slipped into the room, and I followed, still clutching the paper.
He turned the oven on and cast a droll glance at the abandoned dish on the side. “We should eat dinner.”
Worked for me. But the anxiety clouding his gaze kinda scared me. River had always been a riot of emotions that spilled out of him, uncontrolled and wild. But this? Nah. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
I watched him chuck the dish in the oven, then dismantled the distance between us, sliding my arms around him, still astounded that he let me. I rubbed my chin on his jaw. “You okay?”
“Yep.”
“Are you lying?”
“Little bit.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
That part wasn’t a lie, but I wasn’t going to force him. I gave him a hug, then held out the paper again, and this time, he took it.
He unfolded it and blinked. “Shit. Is this my Softail?”
I nodded and traced the fine pencil strokes. “She drew it when you were in the chapel. Embry gave it to me before I left.”
River studied the sketch, holding it beneath the extractor hood lights, turning it this way and that. “She’s ten?”
“Eleven, soon.”
“Fuck, she could be forty-five and this would still be amazing.”
“Bible. And this is nothing. Have you ever looked at the fairground ink on Embry?”
“What do you think?”
“That you should. Her and Mateo drew it before Em ever knew she existed. How crazy is that?”
“Compared to the story you told me last night?” River shook his head, blowing out the same dumbfounded breath I had last summer when Liliana had come into our lives. “Yeah, okay. You win this one.”
