shuffled around the front of her swing, anger simmering below the surface. I glared at her. “Fucking slow down.”
She laughed so loudly that her giggles reverberated around the small forest that surrounded us, and probably over the beach at the front. “You’re both too careful.”
“The fuck I am!” I yelled. She knew damn well how not careful I was, but being reckless with myself was different than being reckless with her, which I would not be.
P rolled her eyes and slowed the swing until it finally came to a stop. She took three steps forward until her little hand clasped over my clenched fist.
“King, you can’t always be angry at the world.” For a nine-year-old, she was too smart. Smarter than my eleven.
I brought my calloused knuckles up to her soft cheeks. “As long as you’re walking in it vulnerable, I fucking will.”
She leaned into my hand, just as her mom came rushing out onto the porch. “King, your mom and dad want you home for dinner.”
I left after that, and that was the final time I ever saw Persephone Hendry. It was the day I began to mourn her, only I was mourning the wrong sister. My world ended that day, my mind caving in, shutting everyone out. I’m fuckin’ reeling that she’s alive, but I know I’ve fucked up, and once she gains her memories back, I’m even more fucked, because she’s going to remember everything about us and be even more hurt by the shit I’ve put her through lately.
“I need to know what happened, Keaton,” I whisper softly. “I understand why you would lie and say that—”
“It wasn’t a lie.” He takes a seat beside me on the sofa, handing me a glass of something brown. “I’m your half-brother, Persephone.” I wince at that name. “Sorry, would you rather I call you Dove? Just feels weird calling you that now that I know you’re not her.” I pause, tilting my head and examining his features. I don’t think we look anything alike, but then again, he looks a lot like his father. Maybe our mother was like me. What a mess. Everything I thought I knew about my heritage, my family, was all an illusion. My mother wasn’t my real mother. It made sense with her detachment from me.
“What did she look like?” I ask, my eyes zeroing in on the lights that are illuminating near the pool outside.
“She’s still alive.”
My heart sinks.
“Listen, Persephone. Shit, is it okay to call you that?”
I shake my head, tipping my head back to take a sip. “No, it’s okay. It will take some getting used to, and I still don’t understand, but I think deep down, I always felt a disconnect to the name Dove. The name felt so—”
“—Placid?” Keaton chuckles, running his hand over his tattooed neck.
I snort. “Yeah, placid.”
“I’ll tell you everything.” He slams his whole drink in one go. “What do you remember about the day you moved?”
“I don’t remember anything about that day,” I whisper, shivering.
“That’s because they didn’t want you to remember,” Killian murmurs from the entry.
I stand, staring at him. “Why?”
His eyes stay on mine, but for the first time since I’ve known Killian and been caught up in this clusterfuck of a life, Kill looks normal. There’s no ulterior motive to his words or even a hidden smirk behind the easy smile.
Killian points to the sofa after looking over his shoulder briefly. “Sit down.”
I do.
Killian walks closer to me, running his hand through his dark hair. “You’ve been getting flashbacks, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, twisting my fingers together on my lap. “I mean, they’re not flashbacks. They’re more feelings and images. Like I remember feeling a certain way and a shed near an ocean. Stuff like that.”
“Good.” Killian’s fingers come to my chin. “When you kissed King, did you get anything else?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I remember dreaming, I think, after he left. Mainly, my flashbacks came whenever you were around.”
Killian smirks. “I figured.”
“You fucking knew?” King’s voice shocks me. I refuse to look at where he’s standing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my attention. “You knew who she was?”
Killian’s hand stills on my chin. I keep my eyes on Killian.
“Yes,” he answers, glaring over his shoulder. “But not right away. I saw it.”
“Saw fucking what?” King yells, though I still don’t understand his rage. He was about ready to dish me up to his father and mother as a fucking six-course meal.