The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,60

couldn’t make out his eyes. “She was the only mother I ever knew.”

Swallowing words of sympathy I knew he wouldn’t want to hear, I lifted my hand and kissed his stubborn jaw.

“Do you know there was a short period of time where I actually thought she was my mother?” Sandpaper coated his voice as he looked away, causing my hand to slip. “Before I could hone my ability to read minds, I didn’t know any better. I thought that woman was my mother.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, because if anyone knew how that felt, I did, and I knew there was little anyone could say in response to something like that. “How did you find out?”

“Archer.” He worked his head side to side as if he were working out a kink. “A few years older than I was, he was the only Origin left from the previous batch. Back then, we only knew what we only knew. The Daedalus was our home, for better or for worse.”

I couldn’t even imagine that.

“Even as a small child, I knew I was treated differently from the others. Given far more privileges. Better dinners and snacks. Candies. I was allowed to watch TV, and Nancy would often allow me to stay with her while she worked late in the labs. Jealousy drove Archer to reveal the truth. It was a … shock.”

“I’m sure it was.” I ran my thumb over his chest, above his heart. “I know it was.”

“You would,” he said softly. “But it was also eye-opening, and the only thing that matters now, when it comes to that woman, is that she’s dead. And not like Jason Dasher dead, but a hundred percent dead. It was a joint effort between Archer and me, but that woman is not coming back.” His gaze shifted back to mine. “She’s nothing but ash, fertilizing a patch of ground somewhere in Montana, and I cannot find a single ounce of regret in me for doing it. Does that disturb you?”

“No,” I said without a second of hesitation. “The ground deserves better than to be covered with her ashes, and I’m glad she’s no longer here. She sounds like a monster, worse than Dasher.”

“She was, but she’s gone and has absolutely no impact on my life today. That’s why I don’t talk about her. There’s no reason to give her any space in my mind or anyone’s, especially Kat’s and Daemon’s. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“I can agree with that, but—”

“No impact, Evie. I refused to allow that,” he cut me off. “I hope that tells you enough about her.”

“It does.” For now. There was way more than what he was sharing, but even I knew when to stop pushing.

“Good.” Luc shifted off me and onto his side of the bed, the one closest to the door. Always that side. “We should get to sleep. If we’re going to start working with the Source, you’re going to need all the rest you can get.”

“Okay.” Sitting up, I scooted over, tucking my legs under the covers as the flames from the candles flickered and then went out. The lanterns followed. I looked over at Luc. His back was to me.

His back was never to me.

Folding an arm over my waist, I stared at the outline of his body. I didn’t think he was mad. Irritated I’d brought up Nancy Husher? Perhaps. But I knew that whatever had him turning away from me had nothing to do with me.

Despite what Luc claimed, he wasn’t as apathetic to Nancy as he wanted to be. And who could blame him? No one. I wished there were something I could say other than what I already had. Then he could understand that it was okay to still be furious and sad over what this woman had done to him and others, just as it was okay that he was glad she was dead.

That he’d been the one to ensure it.

What disturbed me was that Luc wouldn’t let himself feel any of that, and that wasn’t something I could change in a few hours or one night. But what I could do was what I wanted to be able to do. I could just be there for him, even if he didn’t know why or didn’t want it.

Lying down beside him, I rolled onto my side and wiggled toward him until my chest was pressed against his back. I threw an arm around his waist. Luc didn’t move or respond, but I held him tightly.