a single tear fall from his eye and travel down his dark, stubbled cheek. His face never moved. There was no indication he was even crying, breaking . . . but for that single telling tear.
That single tear shattered me.
That fallen tear came from the little boy who saw his mama die. It divulged the racking pain Styx lived with every day.
Reaching across to him, I covered his hand that rested on his knee with my own. He tensed at first, but then let it be. I hoped that somewhere, wherever she was, that our mama was looking down at us and smiling. Finally, her children had found each other.
“It would have been good,” I whispered, staring out at the forest. “The life she wanted for us.” I smiled, imagining the idyllic scene in my head. Of the three of us at the small farm, running in the fields, laughing and free. I squeezed Styx’s hand. “The farm. Us all together.” I looked up at his face. His skin was red, and he held such sadness and pain in his hazel eyes I couldn’t bear it. “You and me. Brother and sister.” I sighed. “It would have been lovely.” I thought of the cards we both had been dealt instead. Styx, under a father who hurt him; and me, with a father who kept me imprisoned, and wasn’t even my father at all.
Styx reached into his cut with his free hand and pulled out a photograph. My pulse raced, looking at the white back of the old picture, wondering what was on the front.
Styx took a deep breath, then swallowed several times before he opened his mouth. “I . . .” He paused and closed his eyes. His eyes twitched as struggled for words. The sight pulled at my heart. He was fighting to speak to me.
Me.
I knew he only spoke to a couple of people. And here he was, trying to speak to me.
“I f-f-found th-this . . . in her th-things.” Styx handed the picture to me. I took it and slowly turned it over. My soul shattered when staring back at me was a petite woman with dark hair, smiling widely at the camera . . . with an infant in her arms. Me, I realized. This was my mama and me.
She was holding me so closely. Her cheek pressed to mine. I was smiling too. The love held in this picture exuded from the image so strongly, so surely, no one could doubt how much she adored me. How much it meant to her, being my mama. I couldn’t breathe to speak . . . I couldn’t pull my eyes from her face. She was beautiful, so so beautiful.
“I b-b-believed she was . . . a wh-whore who d-d-didn’t . . . want m-me.” I closed my eyes as Styx’s words hit me. “Sh-she w-wasn’t.” Styx’s voice was gravel. He turned his head away.
I held his hand tighter. Minutes passed by in contemplative silence. I said, “We’ve found each other now, Styx.” Styx turned to face me, his expression unreadable. I smiled, though my lips trembled and my eyes misted with tears. “I have a big brother.”
Styx didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if he could. Instead, he pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I didn’t care that my injury hurt me as he tucked me into his side. My brother was embracing me. River Nash, president of the Hades Hangmen . . . my big brother.
We stayed that way on the porch swing for a while, until Styx got to his feet. I was sure it was a lot for him to deal with all at once. It was overwhelming for me. “Can I . . .” I asked. “Can I come and see you sometime? Talk to you more?” I saw Mae with Charon through the window. “Visit Charon?”
Styx rocked on his feet, and put his hands in his pockets. He nodded, then his lip kicked up at the side in a flicker of a smile. “H-he’s y-your n-nephew.”
He was my nephew. I had a nephew.
I laughed with pure happiness. “He is, isn’t he?” Styx nudged his head for me to follow him to his truck. He was silent as he drove me home. When the truck stopped, I hugged the journal and the picture to my chest. I would treasure them my entire life. I went to open the door, but before I did, I leaned across